#i was begging for death by the middle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokissweater · 1 month

Text

“i would never lie to you.”

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: inumaki’s always coming home to you from missions coughing up mass amounts of blood and completely overdoing it while fighting curses with his cursed speech technique. and no matter how many times you tell him to be careful, he just doesn’t, arguing with him, giving him the cold shoulder, and completely unaware of the reason behind why he fights so hard when he’s out there— that reason being of course… because of you.

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, toge and reader have a lil argument but it’s more the aftermath, slight sexual mention but it’s literally once and nothing LOL, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not doing enough SNIFFF, angst with comfort, toge is DEVOTED to you, aged up characters, pet names, afab!reader.

word count: 2.3k

authors note: short n sweet one!! wanted to give you guys a break from my MLA format essays i always make y’all read LMFAOOO!! this one is SHO SOFT AHHHH :] i hope this keeps you guys fed in the meantime while i write the next one! i love you and i love you all ALWAYS MWAAHH <33

————————————————————————

toge inumaki hates it when you don’t talk to him.

as if he doesn’t do that enough already, toge absolutely despises when you both get into arguments or heated discussions and you turn a cold shoulder to him— needing space to unwind and prevent yourself from lashing out even more, to let the situation simmer down.

he understands it. believe him he does— you’re upset and angry and you need time to cool off… but toge is stubborn and needy and just doesn’t care, needing you and only you, him going absolutely crazy at the silence in your shared apartment that he was starting to hear random ringing in his ear drums.

so as he sat on the couch, eyes unblinking as they stared off into the darkness of the living room as the sun had already began to set, you upstairs locked away— he wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and let his cursed speech force you to come downstairs and talk to him.

but he didn’t, though the thought was definitely tempting, as toge vowed the day that he laid eyes on you to never ever use his cursed technique on you, even if it was harmless, an oath he wanted to carry with him until his very death bed and until he was six feet under.

his ears perked up then at the quiet sounds of the upstairs room door knob twisting and clicking open, soft padded footsteps making their way down the hall and closer to where he was, feet sticking against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

at the sight of you with your hair a little disheveled, your eyes so red and puffy, and an arm wrapped around yourself as you rummaged through the fridge looking for fuck knows what and not sparing a single glance at him— toge felt like a fifty pound gutting weight was resting on his chest and crushing his heart.

you had both argued about something you always seemed to circle back to almost every week. but this time, you were sick and tired and fed up, seeing as toge was never going to try and understand the situation at hand through your worried eyes.

every time toge was out for a mission, you would spend your days anxiously throwing yourself over the couch or trying to keep yourself busy with random activities like baking or scrapbooking (which you deemed later meaningless), all within the sole purpose of trying to get your mind off of your boyfriend and the recklessness he always seemed to pull while on missions, regardless of how much you begged and pleaded with him to be more careful and aware of his health.

toge inumaki had such a powerful and lethal cursed technique that frightened and astonished you all at the same time, a conflicting feeling to have when he had to leave you in the middle of the night or during the early hours of the morning to run around and fight curses… but always coming home to you warm and loving and safe.

but not right now.

not when toge had literally come home this morning with not even two steps in the door and he was already on his knees, coughing up strings and loads of crimson blood, it pooling on the floor as he had used his cursed speech to the highest degree today and had you a crying mess thinking he was dying.

and he always did that. always. today was just the worst of them all, him without a fault coming home with excruciating pain in his bruised and clawed up throat, the cough syrup medicine he usually downed like water having absolutely no effect anymore as you scrambled around every time trying to find a solution, toge brushing off your distressed and frightened rambling as if his health wasn’t a big deal, and as if how much it affected you wasn’t a big deal either.

upon you closing the fridge, toge slowly stood from the couch and carefully walked over to you, his throat still in pieces but his mind lurching and guilty over how upset you were at him.

he slowly raised a gentle hand and placed it on your shoulder, you shaking your head somberly in response— your back to him.

“i don’t wanna talk right now toge i’m sorry…” you mumbled, rubbing over your tired sore eyes.

he squeezed your shoulder, insisting.

but you only shook your head again.

toge huffed and placed both hands on your shoulders this time, physically turning you around to face him— his eyes soft and his eyebrows pinched together in pure concern for you.

you peeked up reluctantly, but the sight of his face and the events from earlier flashing through your mind only made your bottom lip wobble and the bottom of your palms shoot up to dig into your eyes, more stinging tears flooding in and slipping through the corners of your closed lids.

his heart fucking broke.

“why don’t you care toge?” you hiccuped. “i worry myself sick every time you leave for a mission and— and that’s fine because it’s what you do but you never take care of yourself!”

he gently pried your shaking hands away from your eyes and wiped your tears softly with his thumbs, caressing your cheeks after— wishing so badly, more than anything in this fucking world, to just be able to speak to you like a normal human being instead of resorting to words scrambled on a piece of paper or text messages on a screen.

he gently placed a little timid peck to your nose before releasing your face and fumbling around in his pockets for his phone, tapping it awake once he retrieved it and opening his notes app to write out a sentence.

he flipped and faced the screen towards you, the brightness making you squint a bit.

“i do care i swear. i just always forget when i’m in the middle of it and i’m sorry baby.”

“so you keep forgetting after what feels like the fifteenth time i’ve told you?” you wiped more tears from your cheeks. “how— how do you think it makes me feel when you come home and you’re coughing up blood all over your clothes and the furniture huh? all over me?”

he sighed softly through his nose and went to type again, but you continued.

“i get scared toge that one day you’ll push yourself way too far and then you just won’t come home. you scare me when you cough up so much blood like that!—”

toge tugged you in then with his unoccupied hand and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head in and stuffing your face against his chest— the scent of his freshly washed t-shirt filling your nose as you cried softly.

fuck he felt like such a douche.

he typed for a moment behind your head, a pit in his stomach that only grew in size the longer he heard your little sniffles.

toge pulled back a bit, his arms still keeping you in place but just enough so that he could lower his phone and show you his message.

“please please don’t cry. i’m really sorry okay i really am and honest to god this won’t happen again.”

you nodded meekly and he flipped his phone back, quickly typing again and showing you once he finished.

“i feel like you think i don’t care but that’s not true at all. part of the reason why i try so hard when i work is because the more curses i fuck up the safer you’ll be when you’re out there without me.”

you laughed a bit at his wording, and he beamed at that, typing.

“i love you pretty girl. and im sorry i always get blood everywhere.”

“oh i don’t care about the mess baby, i care about youu,” you whined lightly and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in tight.

“and i love you too, a lot… like an embarrassing amount that strips away my dignity.”

he chuckled boyishly and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his body stuttering slightly as a single thought grazed his mind— the same thought that’s been in the crevices of his brain since he asked you to be his.

you felt his tension and pulled back.

“what?”

toge bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, his weight shifting as he contemplated telling you something he didn’t want to burden or upset you with, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing over your chubby cheek.

you quirked an eyebrow. “what? are you cheating on me?”

he burst out laughing and shook his head, kissing your forehead before dropping his hand from your cheek and pulling out his phone again.

he typed for a minute then showed you.

“me not being able to speak to you like a normal boyfriend should or respond to you whenever makes me freaking useless. so i push myself out there to keep you safe because that’s literally the least i can do for you, since i can’t even do the bare minimum.”

you gasped softly. “toge huh? this is—”

he shook his head once more and you stopped as he typed again.

“i always try to make you laugh with the things that i do or whenever i text you because i’m afraid that one day you’ll get tired of me not being able to talk to you and you’ll leave. which is also something i would never blame you for and understand.”

your heart squeezed in the worst excruciatingly way possible, completely baffled and mortified to the fact that toge was thinking about things like this and wholeheartedly believing it without you noticing or him saying anything to you about it.

he typed again.

“that’s why i cosplay as gojo when i leave for missions and come back a dumbass with blood in my mouth. that’s why i forget when you tell me to be careful because the need to be something for you is way fucking greater.”

“togeee!” you sobbed, bursting out crying like a little baby as you were moved and haunted by his words simultaneously, your arms engulfing him as he desperately shot his hands out and quickly wiped your tears again, shaking his head frantically as if pleading with you not to cry.

“how could you ever believe that?” you nudged him away and hiccuped, your eyes serious. “why haven’t you told me about this? everything you just said is literally propaganda.”

he chuckled, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“toge, why do you think i’ve been with you for so long? do you think i’m just dicking around?”

“dicking around on my dick?”

you swatted his phone away. “no! not right now.”

you both shared a small giggle, twinkling eyes looking at each other.

“if i felt like you weren’t doing even the bare minimum, i would’ve been gone before you had the chance to put this ring on—”

his gaze drifted down to the black shiny heart promise ring on your ring finger that you held up for him, and he smiled softly.

“baby what you do for me everyday is above and beyond the bare minimum. i’m happy. i’m so happy to be with you that you not doing enough has never crossed my mind and it never will.”

you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him down a little, gently. “i’ve never cared about your ability to speak. i fell in love with you, who you are, and the fact that i did without you having to iterate words to me? olympic sport.”

toge rolled his eyes playfully at your comment, and you stood on your tippy toes and kissed the tip of his pretty nose then. “all men do when they talk is lie anyways…” you tilted your head. “but i know you’ll never lie to me.”

“never.” he mouthed silently.

he bundled you up in his arms and lifted you like you were nothing, him carefully leaning in and pressing his lips to yours as if you were a fragile little thing— kissing you so devotedly, warmly, his forehead resting against yours once he pulled apart after greedily getting his daily fix of you.

“i know your job as a jujutsu sorcerer pays the bills and comes with you putting yourself in difficult situations… and my job doesn’t even compare, but please don’t overdo it for my sake. i want you to come home, okay?”

you know it’s selfish… he should be saving lives no matter the cost.

but he was your man. was it so bad to just want to keep him for the rest of your days? to get the chance to grow old with him, and buy a little quiet house on the country side like you always joked about in the late hours of the night with him? drinking cool glasses of lemonade on the porch?

“please don’t always be the hero.” you whispered guiltily. “but if you must… just keep me in mind while you do it.”

you’re always on his mind. he hopes you know that.

toge breathed softly through his nose and smoothly set you back down, the pads of your feet making contact with the icy tile flooring as his hands dragged up from around your waist to the sides of your head, him pushing a hard kiss to your cheek as if to seal your request.

“do you promise?” you mumbled.

he pulled back and held his little pinky out for you, and you giggled, linking yours with his firmly.

“you can’t go back on it okay? you used your pinky it’s legally binding!” you warned, a silly smile on your face. “don’t lie to me and break it.”

toge grinned and leaned towards you as he bent down a bit— your gaze locking with his as he looked at you at eye level with his hands on his knees, him mouthing his next words, slowly.

words that made your cheeks buzz a cutesy pink, words that he took seriously, and words that tied you to him and the little house by the countryside he wanted so badly with you, as those words solidified how much he truly truly loved you— him hoping you always knew.

“i would never lie to you.” he mouthed.

taglist!! <33: @saebaey

3K notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 3 months

Text

TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody.

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away.

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all.

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…”

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

3K notes · View notes

esyra · 1 year

Text

Haven't heard from family in days. I feel like it's time to accept they're gone. I know in my heart Palestine will, one day, be free, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.

We feared another Nakba, and it happened. 700,000 pushed out of their homes in 1948 to 1 million being forced to leave their homes in 2023.

We thought it couldn't get worse or more deadly than the Israeli invasion in 2014, and it happened. We lost 2,251 people in 50 days then. Now we're past 2,300 in one week.

What I heard most from my grandmother the first days it's that "this time is different". And I feel like a rock is crushing my heart in pieces because i've been hoping that speaking out, teaching people about the historical oppresion of Palestine would help but it's not helping. Nothing is changing.

I feel like I'm screaming into a void. There's some sympathy from people online, until I see content documenting Palestinian oppresion being flagged as 'hate speech' or check the comments of any updates on Gaza and it's: "blame it on hamas", "tell them to give up hamas", "the hamas asked for it". They're not even among civilians!!!!!

My heart feels full seeing the manifestations in favor of Palestine, then I see police forces breaking protests apart and remember that the people that can actually save Gaza don't care.

If there's nothing left to do but to watch the extermination of my people, then I'm going to beg for anyone reading this to please don't forget. Please.

Israel is hiding behind Judaism to commit genocide against Gaza. Netanyahu supported the Hamas militant group to prevent the establishment of the Palestine State, and now he's using them to justify his agenda of ethnic cleansing. He abandoned Israelis and left them to die because he cares more about seeing Gazans dead!

Every single person and institution supporting and financing Israel is complicit. I hope the deaths of every Palestinian haunts you for the rest of your lives and that you never find an ounce of forgiveness, for you do not deserve it.

Just as in the Iraq War, the US government is financing and cheering for the slaughter of millions of innocent Arab lives. The media is complicit by engaging in biased propaganda and other nuclear powers, such as the UK and Germany, are complicit too. You are fascists and war criminals and every drop of Palestinian blood is in your hands. I hope every single day, for the rest of your lives, you look in the mirror and see nothing but the blood you've helped spill.

This serves as yet another proof that not a single Western in a position of power, be it in the media or in government, sees Arabs as humans beings.

For decades, the US has comitted terrorism and crimes against humanity in the Middle East and has NEVER been held accountable. Over one million in Iraq; over 150,000 in Afghanistan; and now they'll turn Gaza into a graveyard. Punishing selected soldiers over the years does not erase the fact that the American military and its government validates their crimes during execution and are never punished for it.

Please never forget: Joe Biden is a genocidal terrorist, Rishi Sunak is a genocidal terrorist, the American Democrat Party and UK's Labour Party are led by genocidal terrorists, the European Union is led by genocidal terrorists, fuckass Walt Disney Company is led by genocidal terrorists; every celebrity that called for Palestinian death or stood by silently while ignoring our suffering is a genocidal terrorist.

May Allah protect the people in Palestine and grant the martyrs the highest level of Jannah. Wallah what keeps me here is knowing that the Akhirah is theirs. May Almighty Allah grant us imaan and Taqwa as high as the people of Gaza. Ameen.

#palestine #free palestine #may Allah protect our brothers and sisters

13K notes · View notes

elexaria · 8 months

Text

simon’s that guy. “don’t want a cat, for fuck’s sake.” he grumbles as you plead and beg, using the ol’ reliable puppy dog eyes to try and egg him on. “no, love. ‘m allergic.” he blatantly lies, sniffing as he looks down at you, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“no you’re not, simon.” you huff, rolling your eyes as you purposely ruffle his hair. it makes him chuckle, how quick you were to call him out. “fairs.” he replies, leaning back against the headboard with a smug grin. “still not getting a cat, though.”

the day you bring home the bundle of fur and purrs back from the adoption centre, simon’s not impressed. he stands in the kitchen, eyebrows furrowed as he watches the tuxedo cat pad around the kitchen curiously. “look at it. ‘ts just a bag of fleas.” he grimaces, looking at you with a deadpan expression. he’s such a sour puss, it makes you giggle as you kneel down to croon at the kitty, baby talking to it— which makes si groan and roll his eyes. “can’t deal with this.” he grumbles out, leaving you to suck up to the new addition to the riley family.

he’s so adamant he doesn’t like the cat!! he gives it the stink eye, sticks his middle finger up at it whenever it stares at him and calls it fat. “need’t go to weight watchers, fatty.” he teases as he watches it chow down on some food. you playfully chide him by swatting his shoulder, eliciting a deep rumble of amusement. “what? not exactly lyin’, am i?” he replies, grinning as he pulls you in close against him, peppering kisses over your face childishly.

he’s not slick, though. you accidentally notice it one day when passing the kitchen. you halt in your tracks, stealthily peeking round the corner as you watch simon crouching low, baby talking to the cat as he puts out some treats for it to nibble at. “such a fat puddy tat, ain’t ya? oh my.” he croons down at the furry fiend, who’s purring up a storm as it rubs its scent against his legs.

and then you can’t not see it. the cat pawing at the bathroom door, mewling for attention from si as he takes a shower. or the time you came home, finding the two of them napping on the sofa. the cat chirping happily when you walk in, stretching and pawing his face, which elicits a gruff chuckle. “ey, stop it, you.” he affectionately says to the cat, his eyes still shut as he continues to blissfully nap with a purring weight nestled on his chest.

it finally comes to an end when the three of you are relaxing in bed, you’re nestled up to simon while the cat lays at your feet. it begins to playfully swat simon’s toes, making him yelp and laugh something fierce. “oi!” he chuckles, wiggling his toes at the cat. it makes you look up at simon, amused as you shake your head. “you and that bloody cat, get a room.” you tease, nudging him with a grin. he snorts, nudging you back with a grin to match. “someone’s jealous, eh? don’t worry, i don’t love the cat more than you.”

he shoots a wink at the cat, hiding his mouth with his hand as he whispers loudly, “don’t listen to that, i love you more than them. we’re for lifers, mate.” before looking over at you with an impish expression. this man’s gonna be the death of you.

#elexaria writes #cod x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod fluff #cod 141 #simon riley fluff

4K notes · View notes

rambling-at-midnight · 1 month

Text

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

#reader insert #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic

2K notes · View notes

ozzgin · 4 months

Note

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere vampire #vampire x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend

2K notes · View notes

cottagecore-moss-king · 1 month

Text

Not so Artificial Intelligence Part 2

When Bruce finally managed to get the time to look at the file Danny had added to the bat computer, it was almost patrol, and the rest of the family was filling in to get ready to head out. Even Jason had shown up, but that was probably just because he was bribed by Alfred with leftovers from dinner. Bruce couldn’t really blame him, Alfred’s food was the best in the world, but he does wish that he would show up more often just to hang out with him and his siblings.

Bruce sat in the bat-chair, graciously labeled with a sticker from a recent prank by Stephanie. She had gone around and labeled everything in the bat cave, but added the bat suffix in front. It had taken forever to find most of them, but he allowed some of them to remain.

Finding the new folder was easy, it was labeled FROM DANNY, and left in the middle of the screen. Clicking it open and sipping his fresh coffee he glanced at the first document. The folder was full of notes, pictures and videos, but all of the previews were white, green, or black.

Bruce started to read through the document, and chocked on his coffee at the contents.

Hello Batman and family, I hope this reached you before they do. I didn’t bring this up just incase you knew and were supportive, but how you act and how contaminated you are I will assume you do not. There is a Government Law that declares any being that has come into contact with enough or creates ectoplasm as non-sentient and non-sapient, but at the same time malicious {Abbreviated the AEA}. We are to be turned over to the GIW to be experiment upon and exterminated. This is literal torture, and I have gathered as much evidence as me and my friends could without being caught. I beg you, please be careful if you decide to take these people down. From what is on here, I think that Lazarus Water is a form of corrupted ectoplasm. Also, anyone who has died and come back to life no matter what are counted, and anyone with godly blood within them. Please Please, save us. My parents are the leading “scientists” which is bullshit, and they’ve already tied me down once. I can’t go through that again. Please, Amity and the Infinite Realms need help. If you don’t help us, I’m scared we may be forced to go to war, and I don’t think you can win against the godly dead.

Please, I’m begging you - Danny Fenton {King Phantom}

“You good B?” Nightwing asked strolling over casually. He didn’t know how to answer, how was he supposed to say ‘Oh yeah, just found out that the government calls us non-sentient\sapient, and we are to be experimented and slaughtered. Also if we don’t stop them our worlds probably going to fall and we’re all going to die a painful death.’ That’s a fun conversation to have.

Clearing his throat he finally spoke up.

“Red Robin, Oracle, I need you to help me sort through these, Nightwing, get the Justice league ready for an emergency meeting, call the Dark too. Look at this.”

“Are we sure it’s real though? It could be a prank,” muttered Oracle, though even she doubted her words.

“Even so, the threat is there and we should certainly look through this, and that means the League needs to know.”

Batman carefully mourned the loss of a peaceful evening, and his coffee, he was going to need to leave that at the cave, he had an image to keep.

Nightwing wasn’t smiling anymore, Robin looked concerned, and Red Hood was openly gawking at the screen.

“I’ve called the emergency meeting, you three sort these files out, I’m calling up the JLD now. Guess we should warn Constantine to bring a couple extra bottles huh.” His joke fell flat, but Bruce wonders if he should bring some alcohol and coffee with him, image be dammed.

“Wait a second, godly blood included? They fuckn’ shittin’ on Diana!”

“That’s what your concerned about Todd? Not that the we both fall under these parameters, along with Father and the rest of the collection? I will go fetch Thomas from his chambers, he will need to suit up to follow us to the watchtower.”

“Good idea Damian, tell him to hurry up. Everyone else, in the Zeta Tube, Alfred, you can stay here if you want.” Bruce gathered his laptop and moved the file over, copying and sending it to Tims laptop as well.

“Thank you master Bruce, I will wait for the younger masters then I will be up shortly. Run along now.” Alfred excused with a bow, but even his face was shadowed in worry and thinly veiled anger.

“See you in a bit Alf.” Dick replied, inputting directions to the watchtower in and doing a quick headcount.

With a flash, the dark gloomy cave was replaced by fluorescent lights and the steel infrastructure of the watchtower. Hopping off the platform another flash of light appeared, and Aquaman stepped out. The group filled out as Aquaman politely greeted them. Making their way to the nearest meeting room, Batman and Red Robin began to set things up as the gathered heroes began to sit.

“Hey Nightwing, what’s with the meeting, you never call for an emergency meeting, Blüd rarely has big threats.” Flash mentioned as he zoomed into the meeting room, last as always, and began to dig into his waffle plate. Where he got waffles from, Bruce didn’t want to know, they weren’t serving waffles in the cafeteria today, or yesterday from leftovers.

“This isn’t just Blüdhaven, it’s all of the united States.” He worried, checking over one final time to make sure everyone was here. A collection of the main heroes from the Justice League, they’d need to figure out who counted as ecto-contaminated before throwing people around, and Constantine, Zatanna, and Deadman were gathered to represent Justice League Dark. At least he assumed Deadman was there, as a chair was pulled out and labeled for him. At least they wouldn’t have to race to find him, they could tell him just to stay up in the watchtower if things got bad. Finally, Robin and Signal rushed in, signal tiredly rubbing his eyes and his helmet in Agent A’s hands.

“As some of you know, a person got stuck in the batcomputer a couple months ago. And was only recently released.” Murmurs and imputed questions rose around, and Nightwing promptly ignored them.

“They left behind a file for us, and we were looking through it and discovered many hidden crimes from the US government. They have taken and labeled a whole species and group of people as non-sentient and non-sapient, and have been experimenting and committing genocide on them.” Again, a chorus of questions and yelling went up, and Nightwing had to take a moment to pause. A glance at Martian Manhunter reviled a stone cold face, quietly waiting for more information.

“Oh god… what is this?”

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover #dcu #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #bruce wayne #batman #batfam #red robin #red hood #dc robin #justice league #jason todd #dick grayson

920 notes · View notes

icyminghao · 5 months

Text

why didn’t you tell me?

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: (some) angst, fluff, comfort, drabble, idol!minghao, established relationship warning(s): mentions of eating, fainting word count: 0.8k

summary: minghao sends you some alarming texts in the middle of the night, and you’re left to speculate the abundance of reasons why he would have sent them.

a/n: inspired by 21:20 of this video with minghao and park myungsoo! the ‘mala story’ segment really fueled my delusions omg

xu baobei ♡ [21:23]: We need to talk.

xu baobei ♡ [21:24]: Call me when you see this.

Those two text messages glare at you every time you pick up your phone, waves of dread coursing through your body as you start speculating the reason as to why your boyfriend had sent the texts so out of the blue.

Is he angry at you? For what reason? Is he going to break up with you? For what reason? You don’t think you’ve done anything to upset him lately, so what could be the issue?

Countless thoughts are flooding your mind as you pace around the living room of your apartment, debating whether to call him or not. If he really wanted to break up with you, wouldn’t you be sending yourself to death’s door by calling him?

Sighing, you bite your lip and decide to text him instead.

you [22:12]: talk about what?

Almost immediately, your ringtone blares through the speakers of your phone, and you nearly drop the phone in shock. Sure enough, the caller ID reads your boyfriend’s contact name, and you sigh in dread, taking a seat on the couch and mentally preparing yourself for what’s about to come.

“Hello?” you say as soon as you pick up, your heart rate picking up.

“y/n,” Minghao replies, his voice stern yet soft, like he can’t bring himself to be fully angry at you.

There’s silence for a short while, and you feel like you’re going to explode any second.

“Are you…” you break the silence, nearly trembling, “are you breaking up with me?”

On the other end of the line, you hear something drop. “What? No, y/n, I’m not breaking up with you. What made you think that way?”

“You- you sounded really scary in your texts,” you mumble, internally relieved that your boyfriend isn’t planning on breaking up with you.

“Text messages don’t carry tone in them, silly,” Minghao chuckles.

“I heard you went to the hospital. From Mingyu,” Minghao pipes up after a moment of silence, and everything clicks in your head.

You had indeed been to the hospital the day before upon suddenly passing out while hanging out with Mingyu’s sister, who’d sent you to the emergency room immediately out of fear that something serious had happened to you. Thankfully, the reason why you’d passed out had been due to fatigue, and you subsequently begged her not to tell anyone about it, despite her objections.

You’re guessing that she had told Mingyu about it, which you don’t blame her for, and that’s how you’ve ended up in this situation now.

“I did,” you reply simply, looking down at your feet.

“Are you feeling better now? What happened?” Minghao asks immediately after your reply.

“I’m okay now, it wasn’t serious,” you assure your boyfriend, “The doctor said it was due to fatigue.”

“Are you not eating and sleeping well?” Minghao replies with yet another question, worry laced in his voice. “Should I move back in?”

You start to panic a little at the idea of Minghao coming back to live in your shared home, seeing as to how he had moved to the dorm temporarily to prepare for their upcoming comeback, quickly refuting, “It’s okay, Hao, I’m okay! I think I just skipped a few meals because of work, I’ll make sure to have my meals regularly!”

Minghao pauses, then hums in response, seemingly not satisfied with your answer.

“Why… didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there,” Minghao’s voice becomes softer, and you sense a bit of hurt in his tone, breaking your heart a little.

“I— I didn’t want to worry you, Hao,” you began, eyes downturned, “You have a concert and a comeback coming up that’s more important.”

“Nothing’s more important than you, y/n.” Minghao replies without missing a beat, catching you by surprise. “I’m your boyfriend, y/n, you can talk to me if anything happens. What if- what if something serious had happened, and I wasn’t there?”

Minghao’s vulnerable tone breaks your heart, and you frown at his words. Throughout your relationship, such a situation had never happened before, and thinking in his perspective, you completely understand why he’s upset, making you all the more upset at your actions.

“I know, Hao, I- I would want you to let me know if anything happened to you, too. I’m really sorry.” you apologise, wishing he were physically beside you so you could hug him.

Minghao sighs, clearly not wanting to escalate the issue for no reason. “It’s okay, darling, just let me know in the future, hm? I love you.”

“I will, Hao. I love you too,” you reply like it’s second nature, because it is.

A comfortable silence ensues for a while, the two of you at ease knowing that your hearts beat for each other despite the physical distance.

“Also, I’m moving back in. Comeback preparations are more or less done, anyway, and I believe making sure a certain someone eats regularly is much more important,” Minghao jests, and you hear some rustling in the background. “I’m on the way.”

You chuckle. You really don’t know what you did to deserve this man, but you know you won’t be letting him go anytime soon.

a/n 2: i’ve come to a realisation that i’m an absolute horror at writing endings LOL

taglist (send an ask to be tagged!): @slytherinshua @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @leehanascent @nonononranghaee

masterlist

1K notes · View notes

mammonsrockstargf · 1 month

Text

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

contents: gn!reader, sfw, fluff, petnames (sweetheart, treasure)

Mammon watches you from the bar in the stuffy nightclub you’ve found yourselves in. He’s surprised you agreed to go. When Asmodeus initially proposed the idea (begged, with a pout on his lips and a pink glint in his eyes. “Please, sweetheart, it won’t be fun without you! Please, please, please–“) Mammon thought for sure that you were going to say no. He was already preparing to swoop in, say something about a private movie night, and steal you away to his room.

Instead, you’re here. The outfit Asmo picked out for you compliments your body perfectly. You look beautiful, but more so you look comfortable as well. Body effortlessly swaying to the music, a relaxed smile on your lips as Asmo puts his hands on your hips and pulls you close.

It’s all friendly. At least that’s what you think. But Mammon sees the glint in his brother’s eye, the subtle smile on his lips.

Of course, Mammon had to come too. How could he leave you here? He’s already spotted several demons looking at you for a little too long. He isn’t sure if they’re into you, or if they want to eat you. It’s probably both. But none of it matters. Mammon has already glared holes into their faces. None of them would dare touch you.

Besides that, you’re dancing with the Avatar of Lust. The demon might seem all sugar and body lotion, but no one would dare steal Asmo’s prey from him.

Yes, the real enemy here is Asmodeus. Sweet, lovely Asmo who definitely looks like he wants to devour you whole. Mammon loves his brother more than anything, but the yellow monster in the pit of his stomach is becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

Asmo leans down, whispering something in your ear. You gasp slightly, mouth falling agape, clearing feeling flustered.

Yeah, that’s enough.

Mammon walks away from the bar, making a beeline for you. Within seconds, he’s in front of you, pushing Asmo out of the way. The younger demon pouts, but nevertheless he gives your hand a kiss before slipping away to some other corner of the club. Presumably to find a succubus or incubi to spend the night with. (Or maybe both?)

You’re all smiles as you wrap your arms around Mammon’s neck, pulling him into you. Big hands settle on your hips as you nuzzle your nose into his neck, breathing in his cologne. “Hi, Mams,” you mutter.

It’s quiet, barely audible over the loud music blasting in the speakers, but Mammon hears it. He always hears you. Lips press against his skin, and Mammon feels a shudder run down his spine, his ears growing red.

“Hey, treasure,” he says, fondness laced into every word. “You havin’ fun?”

You hum, pulling him closer. It should be awkward, the way you’re embracing in the middle of the dance floor. Sweaty bodies everywhere, several pairs of demons shamelessly making out, fangs and forked tongues clashing against each other, but Mammon doesn’t take note of any of it, except from your warm body pressed against his. At this moment, he wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.

If home is where the heart is, then Mammon’s home is right here in this nightclub, with sticky floors and sweat in the air all included.

Mammon kisses the crown of your head, breathing in your smell. Shampoo, human, and so very you. It’s intoxicating.

“Are ya ready to go home?” he asks, and you nod.

“Yes, please,” you reply, voice groggy with sleep as you detach yourself from his neck and smile up at him.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Mammon thinks his heart almost stops. He swears you’re going to be the death of him one day.

“Yeah, s– sure. Just don’t go hoggin’ all the blankets, okay!”

703 notes · View notes

trulyumai · 3 months

Text

Blinded by the Flame

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler x Reader

Warnings: Blood, Death.

Synopsis: Left bloodied and blinded, Messmer searched. Not for revenge, but for his wife.

A/N: So, this fucking sunflower boss is kicking my ass. Im cooked.

Enjoy the story!

“Ah! Mother, please!” In the middle of the room, sat the legend of the flames.

He balled up in agony, his fingers covered his face— his eyes entirely.

Blood seeped between the crevices of his digits, his eyes burned with an itch, a feeling he wanted to tear out.

“For how could I— your spawn, be subjected to such a monstrosity of an ending?” The man cried out, his deep wails echoed throughout the chambers around his being.

Messmer mumbled incessantly, begging and twitching as his vision blackened.

He had to gain control— before the chaotic numb feeling goes too far, before his mind slips away completely.

Think of the throne

Think of the order

Think of…

“Wife,”

He called out, saliva dripped down in a reddened pace between his lips.

Messmer reached out to nothing, to the blackness that surrounded him.

“Wife!” He wailed

“Don’t— don’t leave me alone!”

The lanky man keeled over, his hands beat against the wooden floor with fury.

“A-Answer me! Your husband— your Lord demands it!”

With a slurred speech, he crawled, began to move toward where he thought the door might be.

His hand met with a stone wall, it stood firm against his blood covered palms.

He couldn’t think- couldn’t remember the size of the room, the chamber at all for that matter.

The pain was piercing his mind, it left fire in its wake.

“Augh—“

The knight continued his mission, persisted onto finding the exit, the way to his home- his love.

Knees now scratched and molded over with scabs, he stopped his movement, as something cold came into contact with his dirtied palm.

Shakily a pale arm reached down once more and with his posture bent, he leered over the object.

It was fleshy, wet with a warming substance and–

“No,”

Firm hands acted, looked for proof that could refuse the perverse thoughts invading his mind.

“No, no, no!”

Shaky fingers guided their way to a hand, it was soft, so small that he could cover it whole with his own.

He came into contact with a cold metal, a band that had been wrapped around the person's finger.

His darling wife’s finger.

“—Ah! No, this— this is a warning- a vision, it's a farce!”

Not bothering to stop the blood from pouring down his chin, it fell atop of the bloodied woman.

Her eyes remained closed, the middle of her person laid into a deep maroon color.

As best as the weakened knight could, the woman was pulled towards him. She rested upon his lap like a deity.

Her head was angled towards him, it sagged into the man’s chest instantly.

He smelled the apples— the Elder flowers that clung onto her stilled skin.

There was no denying, it was his love that lay crumpled in his arms like a wilted lily.

Only his cries were heard through the chamber, bouncing off the walls with ease as his wails got louder and louder.

The cries were wet, uneven hiccups accompanied the tears.

As if nature mourned her loss; thunder boomed, rain seeped down to drench the land and the wind howled beneath the winking stars.

The man’s shoulders shook, he howled— it was too much, too far beneath the golden rays he was promised.

Burying his head into her neck the man refused to move.

His kin could walk through the gates now— with a cure for his blindness yet he would say put.

For his protective reign is over.

Now that his purpose lay still and quiet.

His grip tightened, wide knuckles turned white with pressure.

“Thy will bury it all in flame,”

His voice but a whisper among the pelting rain.

“I will offer it all; and join thee with the heads of the filthy accusers, who dare put thy to rest.”

Biting down on his cheeks, more crimson seeped down with unwanted reign.

“Rest, my wife,” his forehead met with hers, the surface sticky and wet.

“My love will hold me here—“

“—nnnghh,”

Thin red brows raised, with his mouth agape he let out a noise like no other.

“Darling, love, please!” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but it came out in unseen repetition

Her mind was foggy, vision even more so as her arm raised above her being.

It felt as if daggers pierced through her chest, and needles laid about her arms like unseen birthmarks.

“–mer, Messm—“

“I’m here! Gods, I’m— lovely, hear thy cries, please!”

The voice sounded like it was under rubble, or even perhaps miles of sand and dirt.

She felt the light touches, how they guided their way on her cheeks, her jaw.

It was a loving, soft touch made by roughened hands.

Familiar hands.

Tears struck her bloodied cheeks, a sloppy smile graced her expression.

He hadn’t left her afterall— after the fall, the oncoming of soldiers, he was here, by her side.

Grunting out a low groan, words fled her cut lips in a rush.

The woman’s words slurred together, and the man tried to make sense of them.

“Slow down, my wife, slow—“

“Es, mess, yo— your eyes!”

On queue, the blackened holes throbbed. Dark pits of ash wobbled down the crevices and met the material of his armor.

“Shhh, Darling, it will be alright, it will be alright.”

Her lips shook with a new level of fear, of total shock.

“I will take care of it— mother will help. I— it will be alright.”

“She is the cause of such damnation, how will she help?” Taking her hand in his larger one, Messmer placed kisses upon each finger.

The woman gaped up at him.

“Why are you so calm, aren’t you angry— hurt?”

“I… was,” He replied. Still distracted by the kisses he laid upon her skin.

“But thy are here to calm such a flame, hm?”

The red knight pushed his woman closer, till the cheek of her face mushed against his dirtied armor.

“Let us get fixed, then such a discussion can be demanded.”

Ignoring the woman's constant worried touches, a smile adorned his face.

He wasn't alone, his wife lay huddled between his arms. The unspoken horror lay hushed beneath his heel, stomped and winded.

Although he was blinded, left to die on his own, he could continue his push to the capital.

For the prophecy has already been foretold.

The kingdom will be left in ash; with only his wife and him to huddle in the flames of ambition.

#messmer x reader #messmer the impaler #messmer elden ring #elden ring x you #elden ring x reader #elden ring dlc #Messmer the impaler x reader #video game x reader #Spotify

810 notes · View notes

mingigoo · 7 months

Text

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls.

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing.

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on, bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone.

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you.

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one.

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled.

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine.

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended.

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you.

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew.

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web.

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door.

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside.

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck.

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze.

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really.

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now.

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face.

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him.

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature.

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated.

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you.

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more.

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?”

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass.

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help, struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox.

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really.

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't.

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful.

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you.

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together.

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated.

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first.

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before.

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles, but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared.

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him.

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.”

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more.

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in.

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital.

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you.

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor.

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more.

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self.

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore.

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude.

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful.

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either.

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm.

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired.

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display.

“Mhm,” you swallowed.

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised.

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare.

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him, his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg.

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath.

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either.

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see.

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub.

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin. He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated.

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks.

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear.

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see.

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous.

You breathed out, “No.”

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways.

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face.

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking.

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious.

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you.

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed.

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

1K notes · View notes

imtryingbuck · 1 month

Text

Welcome To The Gang

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: mechanic!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n leaves her hometown after her heart is broken by betrayal, she has no destination in sight but when she meets a brunette she finally finds happiness.

Word count: 5,853

Warnings: angst. past cheating (ex and sister). swearing. fluff.

Masterlist

“Mom what am I going to do?”

“You need to tell her, it will break her heart but she needs to know.”

Y/n stood behind the living room wall pressing her hand to her mouth in hopes her mom and sister couldn’t hear her muffled sobs. She had just heard that her boyfriend of five years had been cheating on her with her very own sister for the past four months. Betrayed by the two people who she loved more than anything in the world other than her parents.

“She won’t want to talk to me anymore” She felt sick to her stomach at hearing her sisters voice laced in distress. Not once since she confessed has she once said she regretted it or that it meant nothing, no it was all about her.

“Do you blame her? You’ve been fucking her boyfriend.”

“I know mom!”

“And now you’re pregnant by your sisters boyfriend, don’t you dare try and act like a victim.”

Her heart broke even more. Her sister knew full well that they had been trying to get pregnant for the past two years and yet here she is, pregnant with her own sisters boyfriends baby. Before her sister could speak Y/n stepped around the wall, both mom and daughter gasping at seeing her, seeing the tears they knew she had heard everything.

“Why? Why would you do this to me? Doing it to your best friend wasn’t enough?”

“Y/n!” her mom scolded. “You know that she regretted doing that.”

“But it didn’t stop her from sleeping with her best friends husband when she was grieving her mom’s death, did it now? Oh and then carried on once her best friend found out and divorced his sorry arse.” Looking at her older sister, the one person she looked up to since they were children. “Can’t you find your own boyfriend that you have to fuck everyone else’s?”

“I-I’m sorry, p-please don’t be mad”

“You two deserve each other. I hope you both have the worst life-“

“Y/n please don’t talk to your sister like that!”

“Sister?” she let out a low chuckle with a shake of her head. “I have no sister.”

Walking out of her parents’ house, the very same one she grew up in, she got in her car ignoring her mom and sister begging her to stay and that everything will be okay, and drove back to her apartment that she shared with her now ex-boyfriend. Thankfully he wasn’t there which meant leaving with her things would be easier. Not an hour later her car was packed full with her things, with one last look at the place she had been calling home for three years a stray tear dropped from her eyes, a shudder rolled down her spine at the thought of her own sister and her now ex fucking each other in the apartment. Closing the door she locked it and slid the key through the letter box and got into her car, with no destination in sight she drove away.

“No no no NO! God damnit!” Smacking the steering wheel harshly then wincing at the pain shooting through her hands, she managed to get the car to pull up to the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere. “Great. Just great.”

Stranded in the middle of nowhere, no signs of life other than a few birds flying around in the air, she began crying. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to go like. It was meant to be her carrying her boyfriends’ child, not her sister. She was meant to be at home probably curled up on the couch with her cheating scumbag of a boyfriend watching some crappy show on the tv. But no, she’s currently in the middle of nowhere with a broken down car and no cell service whilst her sister is probably curled up on the couch with the cheating scumbag she happily opened her legs for.

It wasn’t fair.

An hour passed and not even a single car went pass. Then another hour went by, this time she kept her mind occupied by kicking the crap out of her car. The next hour that slowly trickled by Y/n walked around her car over and over again, then across the street and back again, even having a race with a snail in which she won against. Finding a stone she practiced her football skills, then she lost the stone. And then she began kicking her car again but this time imagining her sister and boyfriends faces - her car now sporting a huge dent.

The sun began going down being quickly replaced by the crescent moon, climbing on top of her car with her legs dangling against the door she laid back staring up at the sky. It couldn’t have been long when she heard a noise that she had never been more grateful to hear.

“Yes! Oh thank fuck!” she waved her arms in the air in hopes that the driver would stop and not ignore her, whilst also hoping that the driver wasn’t some crazed maniac.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” jumping off the car she went up to the truck as it pulled to a stop. “Hi, c-can you help me?”

“Of course we can help. My names Wanda and this is Vis, what’s yours?”

“Thank you, I’m Y/n. My car broke down and I have no cell service.”

“Oh, well we can actually help you with that” Wanda got out of the truck whilst Vis pulled the truck in front of her car. “He works at the garage not that far from here.”

“Really? You two are life savers”

“Yeah it’s half an hour away… wait, how long have you been out here for?”

“Half an hour?” Wanda nodded with a soft smile on her plumb lips. “Oh my God.” Y/n cried out. “I’ve been out here for like four hours!” Wanda’s eyes went wide, her lips pressing together tightly in a straight line. “You can laugh.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh along with the green eyed woman, she felt so stupid for not thinking about wondering off to find help instead of staying by her car. “You’re not from around here are you?”

“Leave me alone” she giggled.

“I’m sorry!”

“Is that why you are laughing?”

“… No”

Vis informs the two women that everything was set up and ready to go, in the truck with two strangers that seemed really nice Wanda asked her about herself which she answered carefully and selectively, Wanda told her that she and Vis were married and then told her about the people she would most likely meet at the garage. Vis chimed in telling her that one of them called Bucky would most likely be standoffish with her but it was just who he was.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, his middle name is Buchanan so he goes by Bucky.” Wanda informs.

Not even half an hour later they pulled up to the garage named The Avengers Garage. Wanda and Y/n got out so that Vis could pull the truck and car inside. “Come on, let me introduce you to the gang.”

Gaining the attention of the people that was sat/stood around, the first person to greet her was a beautiful red head named Natasha, then a very happy Sam introduced himself – going straight in for a hug. Then Clint – Wanda informed her that he and Nat were dating, then she was introduced to Steve. Everyone was so nice and warm to her, they were probably like that to everyone but that didn’t matter to her.

“This car is completely fucked.” She heard a deep yet soft voice come from behind her car. “Steve I’m going… h-hi.” He started then cut himself off when he laid eyes on her.

“Hi” she smiled at the gorgeous man in front of her.

The group all watched silently with amused looks on their faces as they watch Bucky standing there with a tint of red hue on his cheeks, a sweet smile on his lips and this woman that they had only just met doing the same thing.

“Bucky this is Y/n, Y/n this is Bucky” Wanda’s soft voice snapped them both out of their trances.

“Hi” they both repeated, the groups eyes rolling in unison.

“So Buck, what’s wrong with the car?” Steve then asked snapping them both out of their love sickening eye contact again.

Bucky's eyes find Steve’s and begins explaining the problems with the car, to Y/n it sounded like he was talking mumbo jumbo – having never paid any attention to what her dad would tell her when he tried showing her the ins and outs of a car. “And there’s a big dent in the side”

“Yeah… about that, uhm… that was me, I kind of kicked the damn thing.”

“Why?” Bucky chuckled. Everyone beside Y/n looking shocked at hearing the sound coming from him. It had been so long since any of them had heard anything other than a grumble fall from his lips.

“I was angry.” She shrugged with a small smile.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled once again. “I’ll be able to get the dents out.”

“H-How much would it all come to?” When Bucky tells her the amount he noticed the grimace flash across her face, asking him about the price without the dents being taken out – hating the way she stutters, and the way her cheeks heated up with embarrassment. “C-Can you just leave the dents? I’ll get it fixed at a later date”

“Of course” Bucky smiles in understanding. “It will take about two days to fix”

“O-Oh okay, thank you.”

Steve rolls his eyes at once again the love struck look in Bucky’s eyes, clapping his best friends shoulder motioning towards her car Bucky smiles once more at Y/n before following Steve. Once it was just Wanda and Y/n after Nat and Clint left to go and get some food and Vis doing something in the back Y/n asked Wanda where the nearest motel was.

“It’s not that far from here, it’s a bit rundown though.”

“That’s fine, I need a place to sleep until my car is fixed and then I can be on my way again.”

“I can take you there if you want?”

“I would really like that, thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem. I’m just going to get the keys from Vis.” Leaving her on her own, Y/n went to her car to get a few things from the back, apologising to the two men as she interrupted their conversation.

Thanking Wanda once again for everything that she had done for her, she walked up to the room that she had paid for. It was small and had a weird odour lingering in the air but it didn’t bother her, much. Climbing into the uncomfortable bed after changing into something comfy and doing her night routine, she fell asleep with the image of a certain brunette with piercing blue eyes.

Bucky just wanted to go home to Alpine – his precious white ball of fluff that he had found abounded on the side of the road when she was only six weeks old. He’d probably order some pizza and sit to watch some crappy show on the tv whilst having his little baby curled up next to him eating her treats. But no here he was still at work being told a new car was just brought in.

It wasn’t fair.

“This car is completely fucked.” He mumbled. “Steve I’m going… h-hi.” He started but finding himself cutting his words off when he laid eyes on her.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hi” her smile was just as gorgeous as the rest of her face and her voice.

He knew that the group was all watching as his cheeks heated up, and he knew for a fact that they were going to tease him later for it.

“Bucky this is Y/n, Y/n this is Bucky” Wanda’s voice snapped them both out of their trances.

“Hi” they both repeated, the groups eyes rolling in unison.

“So Buck, what’s wrong with the car?” Steve asked him making him reluctantly pull his eyes away from her.

He couldn’t help the chuckle leave his lips when she explained that the huge dents in the side of her car was due to her kicking it, god he loved her smile. He didn’t judge her for wanting the dents to be left in, seeing all the things in the car it looked to him like she had just upped and left wherever it was she came from, and he understood that money was probably tight, hell they had all been in that position before so therefore none of them was going to judge her.

The second Steve got him away from Y/n he just stood there and smirked. “What?”

“Nothing. Okay well there is something.”

“And that is?”

“’Hi I’m Bucky and I’m so in love with you Y/n, please marry me and have my babies’” Steve mocked before letting out a surprised yelp and ducking just in time as the tool that Bucky throws at him, hit him.

“You’re not funny.”

“What do you mean? I’m hilarious.” The dirt blond gasped dramatically. “What was all that back there?”

“What do you mean? I was just being polite to a customer”

“That’s the thing Buck, you’re never polite to customers.”

“Yes I am!”

“Liar. Okay, can I ask you another question?”

“You’re going to ask anyway”

“When is the wedding?” Steve chuckled then let out a pained groan as Bucky throws something at him, hitting him in his stomach. “You can’t keep throwing things at me!”

“I can if you keep being a dick. Now shut up and help me.”

“I thought she said to leave the dents?”

“I know but I can’t just leave them.” Bucky shrugs. “And don’t say anything!”

Both worked tirelessly until it got too late and fatigue and hunger started to set in. Since Steve lived across the road from Bucky they always drove to work together, Steve pulled up to his drive, saying his goodbyes to his best friend – not before he tormented him about his new girlfriend Y/n.

“She is not my girlfriend!” the brunette practically growled as he stomped over to his house. Instantly being greeted by Alpine, Bucky stood there imagining Y/n sitting on his couch in his shirt with a smile on her face, opening her arms for him to crawl into and complain about his day, running her fingers through his hair-

Alpine’s meow snapped him out of his thoughts, shaking his head. “She is not my girlfriend.”

“Please be Y/n’s room” Y/n heard a soft voice come from behind her door, just before a knock came.

“Hi Wanda” she smiled at the woman as she opened the door.

“Oh thank god! I’ve been knocking on all the doors to find your room”

Chuckling, she offered for her to come inside. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, how are you?”

“I’m good. How come you’re here? Is my car fixed already?”

“Well I came to see if you wanted to hang out? I could show you around town? And for your car, it isn’t done yet but I know Bucky's been working on it since seven this morning”

Seeing the hopeful look in her eyes, Y/n couldn’t find it in herself to say no so with a smile and a nod she grabbed her jacket and put her shoes on, making sure she grabbed her bag she locked the door and slid the key into her pocket. Wanda linked her arm with hers as they made their way down to Wanda’s car.

The town was small and it seemed like everyone knew everyone and knew that Y/n wasn’t from around there, they made it obvious by staring at her. Wanda showed her all the places her and the gang – as she kept calling them – had grown up, hung out and even showed her the alleyways that Steve use to get beat up in.

“Steve? The blond one, right?”

“Yep, he wasn’t always that big and muscly, Bucky would always find him and fight the bullies.”

Then Wanda showed her their former principles house that they covered in toilet roll. “Why would you do that?” Y/n chuckled.

“Sam dared Steve to do it, Steve passed the dare on to Clint who passed it to Nat who then passed it on to Bucky, and Bucky passed said dare back to Sam. Anyway, we all then agreed to do it so… we did”

“A dare?”

“Yeah, but to be fair we were drunk.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah it was only last year that we did it.” Wanda says. Y/n sat in the passenger seat looking at the woman waiting for her to say that she was joking. “I’m not joking either, we didn’t exactly grow up after leaving school.”

Half an hour later Wanda pulled up to a cute café that was on Main Street, promising her that they did the best hot chocolate in the world. Which she wasn’t wrong about.

“So” Wanda started, leaving the whipped cream moustache she was now sporting. “Where are you going?”

“Sorry?”

“Your car was packed full of things so I assume you’re going somewhere?”

“Oh, oh I uhm… I left my hometown. And now I’m trying to find somewhere else to call home”

“How come?”

“M-My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend cheated on me”

“The bastard! I hate him!”

“You don’t know him” Y/n laughed.

“I know I don’t but I hate him for hurting you like that, do you know who the bitch was? I’ll fight her if you want me too?”

Shaking her head. “It was with my sister, and no I don’t want you to fight her.”

“Your sister? Like half-sister?” Y/n shakes her head. “No? Step?” another head shake. “Jesus Y/n! That bitch! I hate her too!”

“She’s also pregnant with his baby” she smiled sadly at Wanda.

“Oh Y/n I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay I guess, it just hurts you know? I always wanted to have children with him but it wasn’t meant to be.”

“The way I see it is that she did you a favour, I know it hurts. My ex cheated on me but honestly it was the biggest blessing because Vis then gained the courage to tell me he was in love with me.”

“And you’ve been together ever since?”

“Yeah” Wanda smiled at her. “We dated for like six months before he proposed to me and then we got married on our one year anniversary, everyone kept telling us that we were mad and marrying to soon, aside from the gang they were the only ones who were supportive, but anyway here we are, four years into marriage and happier than ever.”

“I love that.” Wanda smiled, taking a gulp of her drink as they both settled into comfortable silence.

That was until a brilliant idea came to Wanda’s head. “Fuck Y/n! You should move here! The house down the street from mine is for sale, and it’s nice, me and Vis had a look around just because we wanted to see how different their house was to ours but anyway it’s for sale and it’s cute and most importantly it’s only down the road from me” she rambled with a huge smile on her face.

“I-I don’t know, I don’t exactly have a lot of money and with my car, you know?”

“I know someone is looking for a receptionist, I can get you a job there?”

“Who?”

“Me! I own a tattoo shop with Nat, and it’s just us two and Clint that works there and we really need a receptionist to take calls and all that shit”

“You’re really offering a stranger a job?”

“Well yeah, if you think about it every person I would have to interview is a stranger…”

“You got me there.”

“Do you know how to answer a phone?”

“Of course I do”

“Do you know how to use a pen? And how to write?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

“Well congratulations Y/n, you’ve got the job” Wanda beamed before she asked Mary for two more hot chocolates.

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not”

“As serious as a heart attack. When can you start?”

“Wanda, dead serious?”

“Dead, dead, dead serious! So when can you?”

“Straight away! Thank you Wanda, thank you”

“We’re friends so you don’t need to thank me. Now we just need to think of a place for you to live.”

“I can just stay in the motel until I’ve saved enough money” she shrugs.

“Leave it with me, I’ll think of something better.”

After discussing more about what the job will entail and her wages Wanda dragged Y/n out of the café, she explained that Nat’s sister was the owner so therefore they never had to pay for their things. Dropping Y/n off at the motel with the promise that she would come back later, Wanda headed straight for the garage.

Bucky was in the backroom looking for the part he needed to fix Y/n’s car when he heard Wanda loudly ask where he was, grabbing what he needed he went out to where Wanda was. “What’s up?”

“You said you wanted a roommate, right?”

“That was ages ago?”

“Yeah and? Do you still want one or not?”

“I mean I wouldn’t be against it, just as long as they don’t hurt Alpine, why?”

Wanda grabs a hold of Sam’s arm and began jumping up and down, with a huge smile on her face. “I think I’ve found you a roommate!”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Y/n” Bucky’s face dropped. “I’ve given her a job at the shop and now I’m trying to find her a place to live and not her staying at that crappy motel like she wants.”

“I-no. Thanks Wanda but no”

“Why not?” she frowned.

“Because he’s in love with her” Steve laughed as he spun in circles on his chair.

“No I’m not!”

“She’s single.”

“Is she?” Steve and Sam burst out laughing at hearing the excited tone of his words. “She can’t live with me Wands, I don’t know her.”

“Her name is Y/n, she’s single, she’s really nice, what more do you want to know about her?”

“Oh wow, it’s like I’ve known her my whole entire life!”

“Exactly!”

“Wands, he’s being sarcastic.” Sam informed her, Steve nodding to confirm it. She had never really been able to pick up on sarcasm.

“Oh… right well I guess I have to find her somewhere else. Bye guys.”

Bucky instantly felt bad for his best friend, hating the way her whole behaviour changed along with her voice, handing over the items over to Steve he ran after Wanda. “I’m sorry Wands, I know you’re trying to help her and I didn’t mean to be sarcastic.”

“It’s okay. It’s just- I don’t know I just want to help her and she seems so nice and she’s been hurt and I don’t like that.”

“Who hurt her?”

“It’s not my place to say Buck”

“I understand. Hey why don’t you take me to her and I can ask her if she wants to move in with me?”

“Yes! I promise Bucky she won’t murder you in your sleep. Well… I hope she doesn’t.” Bucky chuckles at her words, getting into the car with her, she takes off.

Standing outside Y/n’s motel door they both looked at each other worriedly as they heard Y/n arguing with someone, who they assumed was on the phone as they couldn’t hear anyone else’s voice. Bucky gave her a questioning look when they heard her say about her own sister betraying her, he soon understood what she meant when Y/n shouted what she had told Wanda earlier that day.

“I’ve already told you mom that I don’t want anything to do with her, or that child. And as for her wanting my blessing to date him she didn’t ask me if she could fuck him when she was- no I don’t care- she isn’t my sister- they both can rot in hell for all I care, no, no you don’t get to interrupt me anymore, you want to stand by her then do it but don’t expect me to come back and ever forgive her. I’m done.” They flinch when they hear a bang against the door, Wanda instantly knocking on the door.

“Y/n, it’s Wanda!”

Hearing the locks unlock Wanda rushed straight in with Bucky following his brunette best friend who had the heart of gold, watching as she wrapped her arms around Y/n’s shaking form. He noticed a phone on the floor, the screen lighting up with ‘Mom’ on the call screen, he also noticed her phone screen cracked.

“I’m okay. I just got angry.”

“What happened?”

“My mom rang, she wants my blessing to date him.” She scoffs, leaning into Wanda’s hand as she wipes the fallen tears. “Oh, hi Bucky.”

“Hi.” Looking around the small room Bucky picks up her phone and declines the call from her mom, again. “Come on, lets’ get you packed up.”

“What?”

“Wait, do you like cats? She’s a complete softy.”

“I-I do, but what is happening?”

“Wanda said you need a place to live, I’ve got a house with two spare bedrooms so… you can live with me.”

“I feel like you two are pranking me.”

“Nope, come on.”

Not even ten minutes later was he sitting back in the car but this time with Y/n sitting in the back, and then twenty minutes later Wanda was pulling up outside his home. Alpine ran straight for Bucky, and then Wanda before sniffing Y/n’s leg, a happy purr was heard from the ball of fluff. As the women were distracted by his precious baby, he was looking around making sure his house was clean, thankfully the only mess around was Alpine’s toys laying around. Giving her a tour of the house, he showed her the room she would be taking, Bucky told them he needed to go back to work.

“Oh Y/n, welcome home.” He smiled warmly at her.

It had been six months to the day since Wanda and Vis found Y/n on the side of the road, she had become great friends with the gang - all welcoming her with open arms. Working at the tattoo shop that Nat and Wanda owned had been great fun, Nat had even showed her how to tattoo… which wasn’t so fun. The two women comforted her when she was tagged in an instagram post that her sister had put up announcing she was having a girl, both of them even commenting on the post – Nat’s comment was ‘really classy having a baby with your own sisters ex’, Wanda’s was ‘imagine sleeping with your own sisters boyfriend and getting knocked up by him and then tagging her in this photo.’ Both comments got way more likes then the actual post did. Her mom rang her telling her to tell them to delete the comments, Y/n laughed and put the phone down on her and finally blocked her parents, sister and ex’s numbers.

At first she thought she was overstepping by living with him but he kept waving her worries off. “I like having someone else to talk to.” He told her once. There was a few awkward moments they both shared since living together such as walking in on each other in the shower, or bath, or the time that Bucky had a woman over and the woman walked into Y/n’s room thinking it was the bathroom, the woman instantly hurling insults at the brunette accusing him of cheating, by the time either one of them got a chance to speak the woman was already on her way out of the house.

“I’m so sorry Bucky.”

“Why? I’ve never seen a woman move so fast before.” He burst out laughing, prompting her to join in.

But overall it had been great, the two learnt so much about the other, whenever they had a bad day at work the other would lend a sympathetic ear, they had grown close which terrified the both of them due to having been hurt in the past. She had found out that his ex-girlfriend had cheated on him after he had his accident which left him with his arm being amputated, he had only told her about this after she saw the scars he tried so hard to keep hidden from her.

“Are you coming tonight?” Bucky asked her as he came into the kitchen.

“Wanda’s asked me to and Nat said if I don’t she’ll beat me up.”

“Well you can’t come.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because only cool people are invited.”

“So why are you going?”

Gasping dramatically he squinted his eyes at her, he grabs his phone off the side. A few seconds later her phone pings.

Bucky: u r so rude.

“Really? Why did you just text me?”

Bucky: cus I’m no longer talking to u.

“Well technically you’re still talking to me.”

Bucky: from now on I’m not talking to u.

“You are so dramatic, isn’t he Alp, yes he is” she cooed at the fluff ball as she jumped onto Y/n’s lap.

Bucky: don’t bring our daughter into this!

Bucky: my daughter.

Bucky: don’t look at me like that!

Bucky: I meant MY daughter!

“But that isn’t what you said Jamie. It looks like OUR daughter loves me.” She taunted him, giggling at his death stare.

Bucky: fine.

Bucky: you gave birth to a cat.

“She got her hairiness from you.”

“No she didn’t!”

“I thought you wasn’t going to speak to me?”

“I- shut up and go and get dressed.” She let out loud laugh at his failed attempts at defending himself, even as she made her way to her room she couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky didn’t care that he had a huge smile on his face at hearing his favourite sound.

Bucky drove the two of them to the garage, it was relatively quiet aside from the radio quietly playing 80’s rock in the background. He couldn’t help but take small glances at her from the corner of his eye, her perfume was intoxicating as the smell filled his truck and his nostrils.

Tonight the gang was having a BBQ at the garage for some reason unknown to Y/n, she did ask Bucky why it wasn’t being held at one of their houses but he just shrugged his shoulders. Wanda instantly pulling her into a hug and handing her a nice cold beer. “How are you?”

“I’m good, though Bucky no longer speaks to me.”

“What! Why?”

“Because our daughter loves me more.”

“Wait… what?”

“She’s my daughter!” Bucky shouts from the boot of the car.

“Nope, you said ours so therefore I’m her mother.” Wanda watches the scene with a confused yet amused expression on her face.

Before long their bellies were warm, their laughter filling the air as they retold stories of their childhood, Bucky’s arm was wrapped around Y/n’s shoulder as her hand was on his thigh – if anyone saw them they would think they are a couple, especially with the way Bucky stared at her when her attention was elsewhere. She didn’t see them all share a look between them all, because when Bucky stood she nearly fell.

“The time is nigh, let us begin the ceremony.” Wanda says in an ominous voice. The hair on the back of Y/n’s neck stand up.

“Please stand Y/n L/n.” Steve then spoke.

Staring wide eyed with a hint of fear and panic behind them, she stood up on wobbly legs. “W-What’s going on?”

“You’ll find out in due time.” Bucky said from the side of her.

Wanda told Bucky and Steve to take her hands and to follow her. They led her further away from the garage and towards an old railway track that hadn’t been used in nearly fifty years, as Wanda had told her before, the panic began to rise more and more with each passing step. Her new friends were crazy and are going to murder her.

“We are gathered here on a dark night.” Nat started.

“We have an offer.” Sam went next.

Bucky and Steve let go of her hands and stood by the rest, once Wanda said ‘now’ they got down on their knees. “Will you be our friend?” Steve asked.

“Join our gang.” Wanda spoke.

“Be one of us.” Bucky smiled.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I thought you was going to kill me!” she shouted.

“No? Why would we kill you?” Bucky asked puzzled by her words.

“You all act weird and take me to an old railway track, I mean come on!”

“Oh yeah… it does seem a bit murdery feely.”

“Exactly!”

“Okay, not to get off topic, Y/n what do you say? Be an official member of our gang?” Wanda questions. “My knees are starting to hurt.”

“Do I get a cool jacket?”

“No but you do get a cool bracelet that we’ve made.”

Mulling the offer over, Y/n smiled and nodded. “Yes I’ll join your gang even though I thought you was going to kill me.”

Bucky had the honour of putting on the bracelet on her wrist, it was the exact same one that all of them wore on their own wrists. “Welcome to our crazy family.” He whispered.

Each of them hugging her before going back to the garage to carry on drinking. Y/n was about to follow until Bucky’s hand slipped into hers and tugged making her stop. He watched as the others got further away from them.

“Bucky?”

“I- I just want a few minutes alone, j-just the two of us.”

“Oh okay.” She noticed that he was still holding her hand, she was glad because she loved the warmth radiating off him.

“I really like you Y/n.” Bucky speaks after a few minutes of silence.

“I really like you too.”

“No, not like that. I mean... I mean I love you, I’m so fucking in love with you it’s crazy, you’re all I think about with your perfect smile and perfect laugh, man I really love your laugh! And you’re so perfect and honestly it drives me insane because you’re everything-“

Y/n cuts him off by pressing her lips to his.

“I love you-“

Bucky cuts her off by grabbing the back of her head, bringing her closer to him so he can carry on kissing her.

By the time they get back to the rest of them both of their lips were swollen and their cheeks were tinted red. Bucky sits in the seat and instantly pulls her on to his lap, both of them ignoring the cheering coming from their friends.

“It was about time you asked her out!” Steve cheered.

“Oh… shit yeah, Y/n will you be my girlfriend?”

They all burst out laughing a she nods. “Yes I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

552 notes · View notes