#so i had to stay and call security to bring emts and then call my manager who of course had left to go see his baby (mama 🙄)

[lyekisses]

having one one of those days where the least bizarre thing that happened to me was seeing josh peck

[kaunis-sielu]

Lady Death

“Baby I’m fine.” Is the first thing that he says. It’s one of the worst things that he could say when you answer the phone.

“Steve?”
“I’m at Memorial.”

“What?” Memorial Hospital? He and Bucky were just going to go and do some check ins with the clubs in the area and hearing that he’s at the hospital is absolutely not what you wanted to hear. 

“I got hit, I’m fine okay? I’m fine but I do need you to come and pick me up.” You hear a slight tussle and suddenly Bucky’s voice is filling your ear. 

“He has a concussion so he doesn’t really remember the hit. It wasn’t an accident Doll.”

“What exactly does that mean?” You ask as you grab a sweatshirt, hospitals are always freezing, then grab your purse and hurry out the door.

“It means that I saw the whole thing and I know who was driving.” 
“Does he know?” You ask as you get into your SUV. 

“I don’t think so. I’m in the hallways, I don’t want him to know because I don’t need him doing something stupid.”
“Who was it Buck?”
“Hydra.” You figured. Your phone connects to your car as you start to back out of the driveway. 

“I’m on my way.” You tell him, “Stay with him? We’ll talk when I get there.” You tell Bucky who will follow your orders as if they were Steve’s, any of the Howlies will.

“I have Nat outside waiting for you. I don’t want you walking around without protection, not with Hydra lurking and apparently a hit out on Steve.” 

“You think it’s that bad?”
“I don’t know and I don’t like that.” Bucky tells you and you’re instantly more on alert. “You want me to stay on the phone?”
“Can you go back into his room and put the phone on speaker?” You just need to hear his voice, to know that Steve is okay, to know that he’s alive. 

“Of course.” You hear him moving before he says, “Steve, your woman is on the phone.”
“Baby!” Steve says happily, “Why am I here?”
“You were in an accident Punk.” Bucky says patiently, you wonder how many times he’s had to remind Steve that he’s been in an accident. 

“I’m on my way Honey.” You tell him, 

“Oh good. I miss you.” You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips, your husband can be so soft for you sometimes that it almost hurts. 

“I miss you too, about five minutes.” You tell Bucky who you hear hum softly, “Steve? What do you remember?”
“Leaving you and goin’ with Buck to check on some of groups.”
“He didn’t know what year it was or who the President was so the EMT’s made him come to the hospital.” Bucky informs you, you’re not surprised that the EMT’s would make him go to the hospital, those are pretty basic questions, “He didn’t forget about you though. Kept tellin’ everyone that he needed to call his girl.” God you love him.

“That’s good. I don’t think that I’d be okay if he ever forgot me.” You admit as you turn onto the street that the hospital is on, “I can see the hospital.” 

“I’ll let you go and let Nat know that you’re here.”

“Thank you.” You tell him hanging up then hop out of your car. You know that Bucky, and Steve if he wasn’t concussed, would have wanted you to stay in your car until Nat met you there but you just want to get to Steve. 

“You should be in the car.” Nat’s smoky voice says quietly from a few feet away and you pull your gun on her faster than she can blink. 

“I think I’ll manage.” You tell her coolly and she smiles a slow, deadly smile at you. 

“Well done. You’re not supposed to bring guns inside a hospital.”
“You’re also not supposed to fall in love with the leader of a biker gang when your father is a pastor but I did that too.” You tell her and Natasha laughs. 

“Touche.” You tuck the gun back into your bag and hurry into the hospital Natasha close on your heels. Bucky is waiting in the waiting room his helmet in his hands and when he sees you he looks over at the nurse, 

“This is Rogers’ wife.” He says and she gives you a nod then pushes a button to open a secure door. You follow Bucky into the ER and down a short hallway then to a room where Steve is sitting on a bed. When he goes to stand you hold out a hand to him

“Don’t you dare Steven Grant Rogers.” The nurse in the room gives a startled laugh and when you look over at her in surprise she says, 

“He’s stubborn, where were you this whole time? I could’ve used you.” 

“Steve, let the woman do her job.” You scold as Steve pouts over at you.

“Then come hold my hand Baby.” Steve flirts so you make your way to the opposite side of his bed and take his hand. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand while the nurse checks his eyes again, 

“Your pupils are looking better but we’re going to do one more CT scan before you can go. You have to stay completely still this time Mr. Rogers.”
“He was being stubborn.” Bucky tells you with an eye roll. 

“Steve, please behave so that we can go home okay?” You tell him softly and he sighs before you press a soft kiss to his jaw, “I’m going to have to keep you up tonight.” You whisper into his ear and he smirks over at you.

“You’ll still be here when I get back right?”
“Yea. I won’t go anywhere without you.” You promise, at least not until he can sleep then you’re going to take care of whoever went after your husband. Steve follows the nurse out of the room and you look over at Bucky. 

“Tell me that you’ve got them.”
“Sam’s got them.”
“Good.”
“You want Sam to take care of them?”
“No.” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, 

“No?”
“No. They’re mine.” You tell him fury evident in your voice and he gives you a little smirk. 

“I’ll let Sam know to keep him comfortable until you can sneak away from your very possessive and protective husband.” 

“As soon as he can sleep I want to take care of it.” You tell Bucky who nods then slips out of the room, his phone to his ear. 

When Steve comes back he pulls you to him and kisses you soundly. 

“I feel like you and Buck are plotting something.” Steve says softly when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, “You are up to something.” He whispers. 

“There’s nothing you need to worry about,” You assure him, your hand carding through his hair at the back of his head, “I’ve got this my Love.” 

“What do you have?” He asks, 

“This.” You tell him, “You don’t have to worry about it okay?” 

“Baby?”
“No.” You whisper before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “No, Steve.” The nurse comes back into the room followed by a man in a white coat. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Johnson. I took a look at the scans, the concussion is minor. Here’s a sheet of instructions and you’re free to go.” He says passing you a couple of papers. 

“Wonderful. Thank you.” You tell him and he nods before moving back out of the room. The nurse passes you a sheet on a clipboard and you sign it before handing it back. Then you take Steve’s hand and leave the hospital with him. 

“You’re packing right?” He murmurs into your ear and you nod, 

“But Nat is outside.”
“Good. Where the hell did Bucky go?”
“He’s doing me a favor. Don’t worry.” You tell him as Nat falls into step with you on Steve’s other side. 

“They’re letting you out?” She asks coolly but you know that she’s just as relieved as you are that he’s okay and they’re letting him go. 

“Don’t be too disappointed Natasha.” Steve snarks and she laughs, 

“You’re following us home correct?” Natasha nods as you make your way to the car, you usher Steve into the passenger seat before you round the front of the car.

“Bucky said you’re going to take care of it yourself. You sure you want to do that?”
“Yes. You won’t change my mind.” 

“Okay. I am coming with you.” She says and you nod once before joining Steve in the car. 
“Now Natasha is in on your secret?” He asks and you start the car before looking over at him. You need to give Nat time to get on her bike, 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about right now Steve.”
“You’ll tell me later?”

“Yes, once you’re not concussed.” You promise him as Nat starts her bike. You ease out of the parking space and make your way home. 

The paper the doctor had given you said that he could sleep. Just to wake him every so often so after Steve falls asleep you slip out of bed, put on some clothes and head back out into the night with Natasha on your six.

The docks are cold and quiet at this time of the night. The lack of sound should be eerie but you just find it comforting. When you make your way into the basement of the large warehouse you’re pleased to see Sam and Bucky there with a man changed to the ceiling, his arms over his head while his feet touch the floor. 

“Hood off.” You command, your mask covering the lower half of your face. When the hood is removed the man blinks at you. Then he registers what he’s looking at, the mask across your nose and mouth looks like a skeleton’s, your hair is pulled back and covered by a black hood and he pales. 

“No.”
“Yes.”

“You’re Lady Death?”
“Yes.” You tell him calmly, “And you came for the only thing that I love. You tried to make me a widow, a life for your attempt at his death.”
“I’ll tell you who sent me!” The man pleads, “If you don’t kill me I’ll tell you.”
“You’ll tell me either way.” You assure him, “They always do.” 

And he does. 

Then you kill him. 

If he’d had his way, if Hydra had had their way Steve would be dead right now and you won’t let that happen. 

“Get rid of him.” You tell Bucky and Sam who nod before you go back out into the night. 

When you get home Steve is still asleep, thank god. You get ready for bed and slip into your bed next to him. 

“He dead?” Steve asks sleepily from next to you. 

“Yes.” You don’t bother lying. While he might be the leader of the Howlies you’re his left hand, the one that holds the gun. The police would never look at Steve’s sweet innocent little wife when they’re looking for a killer.

“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I protect what’s mine, just as much as you protect what’s yours.” You remind him cupping his face in your hand. 

“I love you.”

“And I love you. Now get some more sleep.” 

“Getting awful bossy on me Baby.” He teases and you laugh before kissing him again, 

“Don’t worry, I like it when you’re the boss better. I’m only stepping up because you were almost killed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Now. You are my love and my life and no one will take you from me. And anyone who tries won’t get a second chance.”
“You are my love and my life.” He tells you before curling his arm around you, “And if you think you’re sneaking off on me again you’ve lost your pretty little mind.” 

“I love you.”
“I love you.”

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @annielr @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @patzammit @abschaffer2 @capsiclesdoll @killcomet @sass-masterkittenmama

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi, it’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. Brigitte was just the gift that kept on giving these last few weeks, I’m going to be so sad now that it’s over for a bit. This one is inspired by something she said on 12 coups de midi. Hope you all enjoy. (EMT, I saw your request for a messy Emmanuel in the kitchen - it’s next on my list. I just had this one done before I saw your request.)

She had stayed home today. Things were still new enough that she didn’t need to be at the office everyday yet. After all, they barely had a skeletal staff, much less her cabinet resembling anything like she is going to need in a couple of days (that the NATO summit is so soon into the job was giving both of them a stomach ache but that was a problem for a later day), and she could pick office furniture, paintings, other pieces for spaces, just as well from her couch at home as she could from inside a stuffy palace that they had to yet make their own.

She was surprised by the knock on the door, they weren’t expecting company, and guests to their home became fewer and less frequent the closer they got to power (and the more guards posted outside their door).

"Hi!" she greeted warmly when she opened it to see their neighbor from across the way, "come in! Can I offer you anything? What brings you by?"

"Brigitte," the neighbor sighed as she presented her with a lovely bouquet of flowers, "this is a little awkward."

"The flowers are lovely!"

"Well, thank you, but I meant what I have to say."

"Oh. Yes. Go ahead."

"You know that we love you two. You and Emmanuel are great neighbors. You’re both lovely, and charming, and so kind to the rest of us. So this is really hard for us to say. But we’re going to need you to move."

"I beg your pardon?" Brigitte asked, stunned.

"It’s not you. It’s not this job. Well it is this job. We can’t live like this for the next five years, Brigitte, you must understand. We have to show four forms of ID and endure a pat down just to bring groceries back into our building! The street is completely blocked off, our guests have to be registered in advance so they can get a security check. This is untenable!"

Brigitte sighed in resignation, realizing that she was right. "But what am I supposed to do? This is our home." she asked in a small voice.

The neighbor looked at her sympathetically, seeing this strong, confident woman she has known for years look like a lost little girl in the face of how much has changed so rapidly. "You will figure it out," she reassured, "you two always do. And, for what it’s worth, when this is all over, we’d love to have you move back in here. We are all going to miss you."

As soon as she had sent her neighbor on her way, with a promise of no hard feelings, Brigitte scrambled around for her cell phone.

"Come on, come on, pick up, pick up," she begged as she dialed her husband.

"Chérie! What a pleasant surprise!" she could hear the smile as he answered the phone.

"Chéri -"

"What’s wrong? What’s happened? Are the kids okay? Did something happen at school with the little ones?" he asked in rapid succession, able to tell from the sound of his wife’s voice something was wrong.

She sighed deeply, "no. Nothing’s wrong with our family. I just had a visit from our neighbors. They’re requesting that we move."

"What?" he roared back, angry that someone dared to make that request. That was their home. Like hell were they moving.

"Chéri, that was my reaction at first too, but then she laid out how much the security guards and protocols have impacted everyone’s lives making it impossible really for them to go about their daily business, and she’s right. We have to move."

He took a deep sigh on the other end of the phone, "we’ll talk about it when I get home tonight."

"Okay."

"Thank you for telling me, I’ll try and get some options that I can take home to you tonight."

"Okay."

"Hey, I love you."

"I love you too."

"We’ll figure this out. Together. I’ll call you later."

"Bye," she said as she hung up the phone.

"Chérie, I’m home!" He called out, doing a double take as he passed the beautiful flower arrangement on their entry way table as he set down his keys. He doesn’t remember giving her those flowers.

"Hi," she greets him, meeting him at the door, needing him to hold her as soon as possible after the day she had had.

"These are beautiful," he said, gesturing towards the flowers with his head. "Should I be jealous?"

"They’re from the neighbors. To soften the blow."

"Oh."

"So that’s a firm ‘no.’"

He laughed before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Pulling back, he grabbed her hand, and started walking towards their dining room for dinner. "I’ve been thinking about it -"

"As have I -"

"And the way I see it there is only one option."

"The Élysée," she supplied. "I know."

"I know, I’m not thrilled either -"

"I hate the idea of living above the shop. We did that at Bercy and you worked all of the time. This is an even more time and attention consuming job and -"

"What if I promise no one else will ever enter our home?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean just that. What if I promise that the only people, ever, allowed in that space are you, me, and our family?"

"Do you mean that?"

"I need a space that is ours just as much as you do. You’re right, this job will be ten times harder than the one at the Ministry. We’ll make that space private, we’ll make it a sanctuary, we’ll do whatever we need to do to make it our home."

"Home?"

"Wherever you are, Brigitte, that is where my home is. You are my home. Everything else is just a room, or a building."

"Even a palace?"

"Especially a palace. For what good is a palace without its Queen?"

Hellooo fanfic Anon #2!❤️

Looking forward for the messy Manu in the kitchen piece 😜

Hahaha I was waiting for someone to pick up the fact that the neighbors basically force them to move out 😅 which was understandable and at least they did it in a very nice way and will flowers and all hahaha

Brigitte making Emmanuel promise that their home and the Élysée would be only theirs 🤧 And together, they did find a “home” there 🥰

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️

[princehrry-writings]

Angel with a Shotgun

here we go. this popped into my head after i watched a tiktok about angel shots. if you go on a date and don't feel safe for any reason, please please please find a safe way to remove yourself!! asking for an angel shot is a great way to do that!!

WARNING: tw mentions of implied SA, stalking, harassment, police, EMT's, hospitals, alcohol, being drugged, swearing,

please don't read this if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable. i don't get graphic with anything but still, put yourself first and be safe!! i love you <3

wordcount: 1907

Harry Styles x Reader

masterlist

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It started off as a normal night. Y/n had met this guy in class and he’d asked her out for drinks. She didn’t get any bad vibes from him, none of her friends had heard anything bad about him, so she deemed him a suitable guy to go have a fun night with.

She’d met him at a bar just off campus and was having a really great night! The pair were dancing and talking and laughing, genuinely enjoying herself for the first time in a long time on a first date.

In Y/n’s experience, usually guys were creeps and girls never decided she was what they were looking for, so she had a hard time in the dating world. This guy, Jack his name is, seemed ok. Keyword being seemed.

She should have known. When he asked to meet her at a bar all the way across town, she should have put it together that he wasn’t what she was looking for. He didn’t put up too big of a fight when she insisted they meet at the bar closer to campus, that way she would know people there and be in a familiar place if she needed to get away from him quickly.

When he started making comments that were off putting to her, things she doesn’t really want to repeat in fear of actually vomiting all over the table, she starts looking for a way out. He keeps trying to play footsie with her under the table and is getting visibly frustrated at her lack of participation, so she tells him she’s going to get them another round of drinks after finishing the one that was already on the table and quickly exits the booth before he can protest.

Harry had been watching from across the room at the bar, seeing this couple who looked like they were on a first date. He watched as they laughed and talked, getting to know each other. But as the night went on, it seemed the woman was getting more and more uncomfortable.

He had told his coworkers to keep an eye out for the two in case anything was to go down, and when he sees her get up and make her way over to his bar, he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“What can I get for you, love?” He asks her, leaning over the counter to hear her better. She sniffles a little, and takes a deep breath. Leans in before timidly asking.

“Can I get an angel shot?”

Harry’s senses are quickly kicked into gear and he nods, gesturing to his coworker that he’s gonna get this taken care of before meeting her on the other side of the bar. What neither of them had realized was that 1. Jack was walking up to them and 2. he had slipped something into her drink apparently because suddenly she could barely hold her own body weight. Harry caught her before she hit the ground and Jack rushed over, playing the part of concerned boyfriend but the bartender saw right through it.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up.” He tells the man, authority very present in his voice. Jack doesn’t take well to this, eyebrows furrowing and voice lowering in defense.

“S’cuse me mate, but I’m gonna take my girl home. She’s had a few too many, f’you know what I mean.” He chuckles and goes to scoop her up. Harry stops him, putting a hand on the guy's chest, stepping between the girl and this guy.

“You'll do no such thing. This girl has obviously been roofied and it’s you she was running away from. The only thing you’ll be doing tonight is talking to the police, who are making their way in right now to do with you what they will.” Harry says, watching the color drain from this bloke's face. He turned around, ready to make a full run for it but was stopped by not only the police but also a crowd of other guys who heard what was going down and were ready to step in if assistance was needed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was trying to take advantage of me!” He cries as he’s put in handcuffs and taken away.

“Yeah, it’s obvious the one who’s passed out cold because she was drugged was trying to take advantage of you.” Harry yells after him before turning around and scooping the girl into his arms. Due to the commotion and the presence of not only police but also paramedics, the premises was cleared and the bar was shut down for the night. Harry held the passed out girl close to his body, having had his coworker fetch his jacket from the break room to keep her warm now that the club wasn’t filled with body heat, and waited for the paramedics to come in for her.

When they come in and place her on the gurney, she starts to stir. Little whines and groans escape from her and the EMT’s check her vitals, deeming her stable and letting Harry know she’s going to be ok. He decided to follow to the hospital just so she has a familiar face when she wakes up and has someone to explain her situation that isn’t a scary doctor.

. *

.

It’s a few hours of unrestful sleep at her bedside and his co-worker showing up with a change of clothes for him when she finally starts to come to.

Groaning and reaching up to hold her head but realizing her arms are too heavy to move, she rasps out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Harry explains, wanting to reach out and hold her hand but not wanting to startle her, “You’re ok but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation.”

“You’re the bartender I asked for the angel shot aren’t you?” She questions after a pregnant pause. He hums a confirmation and she looks over his face a few times, before tears well in her eyes.

“What happened?” A few tears fall from her eyes. She can’t remember much after leaving the table, just the sight of green eyes and curly brown hair nodding at her when she asked for the shot. The rest is pretty much a blur, just random flashes of scenes she can’t quite make out in her head.

“You came over and asked me for the shot and then a few minutes later you passed out. The bloke you were with slipped something in your drink. And unless something happened at the table that I didn’t see, then nothing else happened. Do you remember anything happening at the table?” He explains, hoping her answer is no.

He’d learned her name from the EMT’s who checked your ID once you were loaded into the ambulance but he didn’t know the name of the man she was with. He realizes she doesn’t know his name either.

“No, was just being a sleazy dick. I don’t know how he could have slipped me something, I didn’t get up before I went to you. Must’ve turned my head for a bit too long. God, I should’ve known this was gonna happen!” She groans but he shakes his head.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, darling! He’s a sleazeball, a no good lowlife. S’not your fault.”

“What’s your name?” She voices, peering into his pretty green eyes.

“M’Harry,” he smiles, timidly reaching for her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin.

“Thank you for staying with me Harry! For helping me…” Y/n says quietly. He shakes his head with a small smile.

“No need to thank me, pet. Would do it over and over again.”

Her smile, while tired and defeated, was enough to show him her gratitude. She feels a weight lift off her chest, hearing that nothing bad happened after she got to him.

She knows it’s probably just nightingale syndrome, but Y/n thinks Harry is terribly adorable. With his messy brown curls and tired green eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in ages. She thinks she could see herself going out with him, which is an odd thought considering what happened last night. You’d think that would be enough to turn her off to men for good, but there's just something about him. But now isn’t the time to bring any of that up.

“I’ll call a nurse, tell em’ you’re awake.” He voiced, making his way to the door after gently placing her hand back on the bed.

. * .

“Ms. I’m just calling to let you know the restraining order has gone through. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest. After months of being harassed and stalked, she would finally be left alone. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, stroking the loose hair out of her face.

“S’ finally over, lovie. It’s all over!.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him, rubbing up and down her thighs. She felt tears spring to her eyes, tears of relief, tears of joy, but also tears of sadness because the last few months had been some of the hardest of her life. She was ready to move on and be done with this nightmare.

When Jack had found out Y/n and Harry got together after that night, it’s like it activated something inside him. Like he thought she was just playing hard to get and he had to literally stalk her to get her attention. He seemed to think she was playing a game. Somewhere in his twisted little mind he had the audacity to think she actually wanted him.

He’d sit right next to her every single class period and would get up and move next to her when she tried to get away with him. He’d show up at her house, sitting across the street just watching her front door, he’d call her phone and text her, he’d wait outside her other classes and follow her around campus. She complained to her university, told them what was going on and they didn’t really do anything. She went to campus security and they brushed it off because “She wasn’t in any danger. He just wants to get to know you.”

So she finally was forced to file a restraining order. Her case was still open, from when he got arrested that night at the bar. They're charging him with second degree assault and criminal harassment because apparently she’s not the only girl he’s done this to. Many other women had spoken up since news of that night had spread around campus. Yet still, the university did nothing.

Harry stood by you every step of the way, picking up the shattered pieces on hard days. He wanted to beat the shit out of this guy and he would if it wouldn’t interfere with the case. He knew you needed him and he didn’t want to chance anything.

There was a pregnant silence between the two lovers. Just letting the silence wash over them, letting themselves breath freely without this weight suffocating them, they basked in it.

It wasn’t completely over, because there was still a trial, but he wouldn’t be coming around without getting arrested again.

That was enough for Y/n to breathe easy.

[defiblover27]

Old Friends

Sorry that I have been gone for so long. Finally back to writing again. If you ever have any ideas for a story my DMs are always open. Enjoy!

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Bek is a 37 year old female with blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. She is slightly on the heavier side with and stands at just five foot three. Bek and one of her closest friends Ryan have decided to meet up at her house after they have both been busy with their professional careers and have not had the time to sit down and catch up in quite a while. Bek puts on her jeans and a shirt and then finally pulls a hoodie on over top while she waits around for Ryan to arrive before he has to go into work later in the morning. After Ryan arrives the two sit in the living room and start chatting about their current lives and reminisce the good old days of growing up together. The chatter quickly develops and they sit and laugh together as they recall some embarrassing stories that they experienced together. "I can't believe that we really did that.... Would you care for a cup of coffee before you have to leave?" Bek asks. "That would be great" Ryan responds. Bek gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen just a few feet away. After picking up the coffee pot she turns to the walk to the sink to get some water when she suddenly feels very light headed and her tongue starts to tingle. Before she can do anything her vision goes dark. There is an audible thud and the shatter of the glass coffee pot is heard in the living room as Ryan jumps up from his seat. "You okay in there Bek?" as he turns the corner he sees the glass shards across the floor and Bek lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Oh my god Bek" he quickly rushes over and kneels down beside her. He shakes her shoulders to get a response and after a few shakes Bek lets out a sigh as she begins to regain consciousness. "What... what happened?" Bek asks shakily as she attempts to sit up. "You must have passed out has this happened before recently?" Ryan asks as he helps her up into a seated position. "No nothing at all, I've felt a little under the weather since this morning but besides that nothing." Bek responds as she slowly picks herself off the floor into a standing position. "I'm calling an ambulance" Ryan states as he heads back into the living room to get his phone. "No I'm fine really" Bek pleads but Ryan is already gone and dialing 911. Bek hobbles over to a bench in the kitchen by the table as she leans up against it. She can hear Ryan in the other room talking to the emergency dispatcher. She still feels lightheaded and a little woozy but brushes it off without another thought. Ryan reenters the room and stays by Bek and explains that the ambulance is on the way. After a few minutes the EMT's arrive at Bek's house and Ryan lets them in and leads them to where Bek is leaning up against the bench in the kitchen. They set down their bags and ask a few initial questions. After checking her vitals they explain to Ryan that she should be okay but they want to transport her to the hospital just in case. Bek tells Ryan to go to work and that she will call him later. The paramedics get his contact information before he leaves and he tells her to make sure to call him later. Ryan leaves the house and heads to work even though he is still worried about Bek. Jayden, one of the paramedics, asks his coworker Alex to go to the ambulance and grab the gurney since she is having trouble walking. Alex leaves the room while Jayden stays behind with Bek. "My... my chest... it..." Bek collapses to the ground for a second time. Jayden catches her as she collapses and lays her gently on the floor. He feels for a pulse and breathing. Finding none he quickly places his gloved hands between her breasts and begins CPR. He felt as each compression caused her chest to cave in and return to its position each time. After giving thirty aggressive compressions he tilted her head back, sealed his lips over her mouth, pinched her nose, and delivered a breath. He gave two full breaths into her still lungs causing her chest to rise and fall with each one. He did another round of thirty compressions as he felt a few ribs pop out of place due to

the force of the compressions. Again he gave two breaths as Alex returns with the gurney to see their patient unconscious on the floor. "What happened?" Alex asked quickly as he grabbed the heart monitor and AED from the gurney. "She went into full cardiac arrest, I've done two rounds of CPR and still no response. Alex grabbed some shears from his pocket and cut away Bek's hoodie, shirt, and bra causing her breasts to fall to the side. Jayden placed his hands between between her exposed chest and continued CPR. "We need to attempt to stabilize her before transport." Jayden announced. Alex grabbed an orange ambu bag from the O2 bag and sealed it over Bek's face. After every thirty compressions Alex squeezed the ambu bag twice to inflate her lungs. While Jayden was performing CPR Alex also attached the electrodes and AED pads to Bek's bare chest. The monitor whined to life as the line bounced up and down in v-fib. The AED charged to 200 joules as the paramedics backed away. The shock button was pushed and Bek jerked on her kitchen floor as the electricity coursed through her dying body. With no response Alex took over CPR as the AED charged to 300 in preparation of a second shock. Alex used the full weight of his body to compress Bek's chest as he felt a few of her ribs break under him. The AED announced that it was charged as they backed away and pressed the shock button. Again Bek jerked on the floor before relaxing again. "Still no response, lets give one more shock and then transport regardless." Jayden announced. Alex was already giving Bek CPR and simply shook his head in agreement. The AED was charged the 360 as CPR continued on Bek's dying body. They backed away once more as the AED was charged and shocked her again. This time the increased voltage caused Bek's chest to rise slightly off the kitchen floor before crashing back down causing her breasts to shake. "Asystole, lets roll out hopefully the ER can do something else to help her" They rolled her over before placing her on a backboard and loading Bek and all of their equipment into the ambulance and sped away. Alex hopped into the drivers seat and flipped on the lights and sirens as he attempted to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Meanwhile Jayden was in the back of the ambulance compressing Bek's chest which now had a grayish look to it as her body began to shut down. The first few minutes of the ride were uneventful as Bek remained in asystole while her chest was being pounded away on. After pushing another round of cardiac drugs into the IV Jayden was able to force Bek's heart into v-fib as the AED was charged to 360 again. The shock caused Bek to jerk violently on the gurney before going still again. There was no change in rhythm so the AED was charged again as Jayden quickly tilted her head back and slid a metal blade into her mouth and down her throat slightly. He then passed a 8.0 ET tube down her airway and secured it with a blue holder. Attaching the ambu bag he gave a couple ventilations as he placed his stethoscope onto her cold and clammy chest to ensure it was placed properly. He was able to get it right on the first time so he dropped the bag so it laid against her face and pressed the shock button again. Bek's feet jumped off the gurney slightly and clenched up showing off the wrinkles of her small feet. Jayden began to lose hope of saving Bek as the monitor went flat once again as she went into asystole once again. Jayden pounded away at her chest as a purple bruise began to form in-between her breasts from all of the aggressive CPR. Her complexion started to fade and her lips turned to a bluish purple as her body was shutting down. She was now cool to the touch other than the center of her chest where Jayden's warm gloved hands have been so often. Each compression forced her breasts to shake violently as her chest was caved in rhythmically. He pushed another round of drugs into her dying body and gave to quick squeezes of the bag hanging out of her mouth before continuing CPR. He lost track

of how many cycles he has done so far or how long she had been down. All he knew is that he wouldn't stop until he got her heart beating again.

As they arrived at the ER Bek was still under intense CPR as her chest caved in rhythmically. They rolled her out of the ambulance as Jayden straddled the gurney. His hips placed directly on hers as his body hovered over hers as he continued aggressive compressions. Alex picked up the ambu bag laying on the gurney and gave a few squeezes every few seconds in attempt to give her much needed air. They took her directly into the trauma room as Alex gave the report. Jayden hopped off of the gurney and helped transfer Bek to the bed. They rolled her to her side and slipped the backboard out replacing it with a CPR board to get her chest in the correct position. Her nude body now laid dying on the bed as a nurse took over CPR. Jayden backed away slightly trying to catch his breath from all of the CPR that he had just performed. They placed another IV port and gave Bek her next dose of epi and continued CPR. The monitors beeped in tune with each compression that she received as her body shook around from the force. The attending doctor took out his pen light and checked her pupils. They were sluggish but reactive meaning that she still had a chance at coming back. They had no time to waste before it would be too late though. A day that went from hanging out with an old friend turned into a day where a team of medical professionals did everything they could to bring her back to life. The monitors began to bounce erratically as Bek converted into Vfib once again. The paddles were taken off of the crash cart, a large amount of gel was placed on one of the paddles as they were rubbed together, placed on her bare chest, and discharged. The shock caused Bek to flop on the bed and after the shock there was no change. CPR was resumed as the paddles were charged again to 360. In a moments notice the cold metal paddles were back on her skin as she was shocked again. This time her arms flailed to the sides and her feet scrunched up and relaxed again. Bek still did not convert so another nurse centered their hands between her large breasts as the paddles charged again.

Jayden was near the nurses station as soon as they left the room and called Ryan. "Hello is this Ryan?" Jayden asked. "Bek is not doing very well and I think that its important for you to get to the hospital as soon as possible. You are the closest thing to family that she has." He hung up the phone and looked into the trauma room as he watched the resuscitation continue. A few minutes later Ryan busted into the ER and ran toward Jayden. Jayden had to catch Ryan in his arms before he could burst into the trauma room. "What the hell is going on? She seemed okay when I left. I should have stayed with her." Ryan frantically pleaded. "She went into cardiac arrest shortly after you left. We have been doing everything that we can for her. She is in good hands." Jayden responded. Ryan could barely see into the trauma room but was able to see as everyone backed away and then as her body shook around on the bed. He fell to the floor as Jayden caught him and tried to console him.

"Asystole doctor" the nurse in charge of ventilations announced. "Push another round of epi and continue CPR please." he replied. The team worked in silence as they continued resuscitating Bek but they all knew that she was inching closer and closer to death. After three minutes at her 40 minute mark of her code the doctor asked "is there any family here?". A nurse informed him of the situation and he asked that Ryan be brought into the room. Ryan could barely hold his own weight as Jayden guided him into the room. "I'm the attending here and have been in charge of Bek's case. She was brought into the ER 20 minutes ago in full cardiac arrest. Her heart hasn't been beating for over 40 minutes. We have given her all of the drugs that we can and have done everything in our power. I am going to check for any signs of life again. Come on over and hold her hand." The two of them approached Bek as Ryan placed her hand in his. He could feel how could it was. "Stop CPR and check for pulses." The team backed away as they checked her carotid, and femoral pulses. The attending checked her pupils for the last time and found that they were fixed and dilated. "Time of Death 10:46am. I'm very sorry." The doctor announced. He left Ryan and a few nurses in the room as they started post mortem care. The disconnected the ambu bag, leads, wiped the gel off her chest, hung a toe tag on her right foot, and finally draped a white sheet over her nude body. Jayden stayed in the room with Ryan until she was taken down to the hospital morgue. Her autopsy found that she had suffered a massive heart attack.

[xicarcalii]

2194 Kripke Lane

Chapter I: Hurdy Gurdy Man.

Summary: Can one man change the rest of the reader's whole day? A friendship maybe or even more. After the reader's car has a leak she pulls into Singer's car service and repair. Meeting a very handsome green-eyed mechanic named Dean.

Series Warnings: Angst, language, fluffy stuff yall, slow-burn...ish I guess? Awkward! Dean but he's still a cutie, drinking, mentions of sex, more angst, ex-boyfriend dick bags, hospital situations, mentions of domestic violence, death? I think that's it but if not ill just sneak more warnings in there.

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Waitress!Reader (eventually)

Other Characters: Reader x OFC (eventually), Bobby Singer, Mary Winchester, Lisa Braedon (mentioned), Benny Lafitte, Sarah Blake, Jo Harvelle.

Divider by: @holylulusworld

“Stay with us!”

A Muffled voice faded in and out of earshot, your eyelids twitched as they squirmed against the bright white light. Your head swam, feeling too nauseous to even open your eyes. Frantically someone forced your head up and pressed an oxygen mask securely around your mouth. “Cher, I need you to try and stay still for me, I'm inserting an IV.” His voice instructed urgently, out of breath. “Any pain?” You tried to roll your head to the side but the neck brace restricted you from doing so. Your panic-filled breaths fogged the plastic mask up making you rip it off. “Jaxson? Where’s my son, he was in the car with me – is he – is he okay, he’s not hurt, is he?” The EMT moved your hand away, to secure the mask once more. His partner glanced down at you with a soft reassuring smile. “He’s okay, he’s in an ambulance a few cars ahead of us, he’s going to the pediatric unit.” You couldn’t comprehend what she was saying, too focused on how it felt like you were suffocating, rapidly breathing from the shock. She gently stroked your damp hair which was most likely blood. “Dispatch, Lafitte, and Blake. McKennan North Central Alpha 1-0-1"

First Responder- “Unit call Mckennan go ahead with the report.”

“Avera McKennan, North Central Alpha 1-0-1 enroute with a priority-3, 22-year-old female, two zero- two-two. The patient was restrained in a motor vehicle accident. States her car was sputtering at an intersection when she was T-boned by another car that went through a red light; the hit and run was traveling approximately 55 to 75 miles per hour. The patient has chest and neck injuries; says she was hit with a front airbag – side airbag not deployed... loss of consciousness. Blood pressure 137/83, pulse and heart rate irregular – most likely in shock.  IV is inserted but no fluids yet. Sates 8/10 pain. We're pulling into your facility right now. Do you require anything further?”

First Responder- “Nope see you on arrival.”

You woke up in the hospital, the last thing you remembered was driving back home after Jax’s baseball game. You’d soon find out that after the car accident, you had a broken leg, fractured arm, and a concussion. The doctor gently knocked on the door before entering your room. “You’re finally up, you gave us quite the scare young lady.” He looked away from his clipboard and glanced up at you through his eyelashes. “How do you feel?” You shrugged, “okay I guess.” You looked around the room, expecting for your gaze to fall on Jax but it never did.

“Where’s my son? Can I see him?” He gave you a light-tipped smile. “Dr. Castillo suggested he stay in his room and rest for now. But he’s doing just fine. No broken bones just a deep cut on his forehead; the little dude should be out of the unit by tomorrow.” You slowly closed your eyes; sighing in relief.

“Son, I gotta go pick up a hit and run. We got our work cut out for us.” Dean nodded, pursing his lips, reaching for a rag in the back of his pocket. “Alright, how long will it take? I can try and finish up this leak and get to work on the car when you bring it back.” He said while wiping the grease off his hands. Bobby gave him a dismissive wave, don’t worry about it. “I doubt we’ll be able to save it anyways.”

“Then what’s the point? Why not just use it for scrap?”

“Your mom’s really close with the girl and teaches her little boy. She wanted me to at least try and fix it.”

“I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. “Mary, I – I I  don’t know about this one.”

“Bobby, please. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you guys could do it.”

“Is that her boy?” Jax sat on a wooden bench, kicking his little legs as they swung back and forth. The five-year-old looked a lot younger than he actually was. He had dirty blonde hair; styled a lot like Dean’s. Dark jeans with a striped green and white shirt and black and white converse. He even had a Superman cape on top of his black jacket. The little boy was too damn cute for Bobby to say no. He looked too vulnerable than most, and he felt sorry for him. No kid – no one, should have to endure that kind of trauma. “Balls…Alright, alright.”

“Thank you, Bobby. And do you think you could maybe take him back with you?” Mary said with a tight smile. “Please?” Bobby was quiet, rubbing a hand over his face. “I would bring him to school with me, but the doctor wants him to stay home for a week or so, to make sure he’s okay. And you know how Lisa is…”

The ride to the garage for Bobby was longer than expected. He loved kids, but it was downright weird for Mary to have sprung this random little boy on him. He caught Jax turning to look at him every so often and sometimes he would look at the five-year-old too. “Thank you,” Jax mumbled as he wrapped his arms tighter around his Superman toy. “You’re welcome, son.” Bobby hopped out, walking towards the back of the tow. Hearing the passenger door slam shut, made Bobby halt and peer over the side of the car. Jax shuffled his way over to the older man.

“Hey, uh, Bob-” Dean broke off after walking outside, over to the tow truck. He immediately stopped in place, eyebrows raising in confusion. “Who’s this?”

Bobby kept his undivided attention on the task at hand when answering Dean. “This is Jaxson. Your mom told me to look after him until she gets off work.”

Jax jumped at the sudden barks coming from the garage. A 10-month-old Zeppelin wriggled happily when he got a small glimpse of Jax. He stood and stared at Dean a second. It had looked like the little boy wanted to ask him something, but was too shy to muster anything. Bobby nudged his thumb towards his nephew. “Jaxson this is Dean, my nephew.” The mechanic took a step closer and gave the five-year-old a quick wave. “Wanna know something cool?” Jax fidgeted slightly with his toy, not looking at Dean. “What?” He squatted down to Jax’s level, letting his elbows rest on his knees. Dean held up his index finger while pointing to the band-aid that Jax had on his cheek, and smiled.

“We have matching band-aids!” He slowly looked up at the mechanic through his eyelashes. A small duchenne smile began to appear on his face as he nodded. “I got mines from Mrs. Winchester. She said that the scooby doo band-aids look cooler than ones I got from the hospitsal.”

“She’s not wrong, it looks a lot cooler now. And it's hospital bud.”

“That’s what I said,” he sassed. “But why did she give you one?”

“I cut my finger when I was fixing a car.”

“Jaxson, you know that Mrs. Winchester is Dean's mom, right?” Bobby said, looking up at the boys for a moment.  Jax looked between the two men with his jaw slacked and eyes widen. “She is?” He asserted. “Yeah, and she has a lot of the scooby doo band-aids cause they’re my favorite.”

“I like the superman ones she has but I think these are cool too.”

Dean chuckled to himself before peering up at Bobby then over to his dog. “Why don’t you go over and keep Zeppelin some company.” Jax hesitated but he was reminded by the two men how nice the puppy was. He wagged his little tail and looked up at him with his deep dark brown eyes. When Jax got on his knees, the Labrador rolled onto his back. The dog's leg shook frantically when he rubbed his stomach. Casually, the dog did not once, take his eyes off the newest guest. Zeppelin licked his cheek as Jax softly laughed, giddy at the happiness that radiated off of the dog. Dean couldn’t believe some dick would just drive off after doing that kind of damage to a car; let alone a young woman with her son in the backseat. On top of that, he was too curious as to what exactly happened anyways. The driver's side of the car was completely smashed in; he was surprised you were still alive. Dean looked over his shoulder to make sure Jax was distracted enough before he spoke up. "So, what happened?” He asked as he crossed his arms, stepping closer to Bobby. The older man hung his head, "the car was sputtering. Some jackass ran a red light, t-boning the girl.” Bobby’s features softened when he glanced over at the little boy. “The kid was in the backseat. He ended up with just some stitches but his mom, she took a bigger hit of it. She’s still in the hospital.” Dean was lost in thought; Bobby’s voice becoming muffled. He had a hunch but he didn’t want that hunch to be true. Bobby waved his hand in his face, snapping him back into reality. “Dean, you listening?”

“I – I I’ve seen this car before. I fixed a flat and the engine not even two weeks ago.”

The older man squinted at him in superstition, “this wouldn’t be the same car I think it is, would it?”

He suppressed a laugh, “maybe?”

To avoid any more confrontation between the two, Dean suggested that he take Jax out for some breakfast because he too, could use some food. However, he wanted to also rid himself of the longing tension between him and his uncle after what had been discussed when it came to your car payment situation.

“You did what?” Bobby hollered when throwing the Rench on the floor. “I cut the price down,” Dean began while his eye squinted between the small space he made with his thumb and index finger. “Just a bit.”

“A bit! Boy, you cut the price down by another 100 and 60 bucks. We're not a charity case, Dean this is my job.”

“She did give me 100 dollars Bobby. I mean at least she didn’t give me like 30 dollars or something.”

“Yeah, but after you had already cut the price down to 70 dollars!” Bobby stalked closer to his nephew, “this ain’t a joke boy. This is how I put food on the table for my family.” He put his finger in Dean’s face, “and I'll be dammed if you screw that up.” Bobby spat. He held his hands up in defense, “alright, alright I’ll fix it.”

Slowly the older man's finger descended from Dean’s face. "You better, or I'll let your daddy handle this one. And I think we both don’t want that to happen now do we?”  He looked down at his shoes, avoiding the glare from his uncle. “No sir.”

When the two made it to the Roadhouse, Dean let Jax lead the way over to a booth before they both plopped down in their seat. The both of them stayed silent until a waitress came over to the table. “Hey, Dean!” Perking his head up, his green eyes lit up to who they fell upon. It was Joanna Singer. The two of them grew up together since their dad’s being so close. They had parties together, holidays, birthday parties, and cookouts. A time did come where the two did go out a few times to see if their relationship could blossom into something more, but it never did. That didn’t stop her from batting her eyes at him every so often or replying with a few flirty remarks.

“Hey, Jo.”

“Didn't expect to see you here so early.”

“Yeah well, I had to get outta there before your dad put me 6 feet under.”

“What happened? Are you okay? I mean, I can talk to him if you want me to.” Dean gave a dismissive wave. “Nah, don’t worry about it, it’ll blow over soon.” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, “let me know if you need my help.” She said, smiling at him nervously. Dean gave her a tight smile before she brushed off the awkward silence and looked over at Jax. “Who’s this?”

“This is Jaxson. His mom, she got –” Dean shot a quick glance over to Jax, before correcting himself. “My mom teaches him.”

“Oh well, it’s nice to meet you, Jaxson!”

The little boy gave the young woman a small pleased smile. 

“Can I get you guys something to drink?”

“I’ll have a coffee, and what about you bud?”  

He shrugged lightly, looking down at his lap. “How about some orange juice for our little superhero today?” Jax peered up at her for a second. “Apple juice, please.” He said, pulling out his coloring book and crayons to keep himself busy until his food came. Dean thanked the blonde as she left with a longing smile that meant more behind it than Dean thought it did. His eyebrows shot up for a moment before reaching for the menu. But when he caught a glimpse of what Jax was coloring, he became too invested in the picture instead. “Jaxson, what’s with Elmo? He’s not blue.” Jax snorted, "I know.” He said while continuing to carelessly color. “Last time I checked kids normally color him red.” The five-year-old crinkled his nose and gave the man a quick glance. “Yeah, but Elmo’s red, and I don’t like red. Grover's way better because he’s blue.” Dean threw his hands up, “fair enough. Elmo’s voice is weird anyway.” Jax nodded, “I tell mama that all the time, but she says that’s not nice to say because it would hurt his feelings.” He began to scribble around the edges of the page as Dean took a bite of his bacon. “Also, it’s Jax, not Jaxson.” He said as his small arms reached for his apple juice. “My bad little man.”

“It’s no biggie.” Dean studied the little boy for a moment. He could notice Jax’s drooping eyelids and the inner corners of his lips pulling into a small frown. “You feeling okay today?” He shrugged nonchalantly, before taking a bite of his pancakes. “Alright,” he brushed his hands together, ridding of any bacon crumbs. “What’s wrong? You should be excited. You get to see your mom later!” Jax wiped the syrup from around his mouth using his sleeve as a napkin. “It's not that.”  He put his head in his hands. “Then what’s up?” He popped his head back up, “everyone at school is gonna make fun of me.” Aggressively, he pointed to the giant butterfly band-aid that went across his forehead; making his statement valid. “I look rediclous.” He exclaimed through gritted teeth. “Ridiculous,” Dean corrected when taking a long sip of his coffee. “Dude that’s what I just said, rediclous.”

Things were quiet between them for a few minutes. Dean was never really around kids and he didn’t have friends who had any either. So, trying to comfort a little boy was foreign to him. He took a fork full of eggs.

“You know.” He began with his mouth still full, “that scar is gonna look badass.”

Jax furrowed a brow. “How? I’m gonna look weird.” Dean swallowed his food before disagreeing with him. “No way dude. It’s gonna look awesome! Girls love scars, you’re gonna be a chick magnet.” Jax sat still and quiet for a moment, before sliding back further into the booth. “What’s that mean?” Dean pondered for a moment, trying to make his explanation sound as appropriate as possible.

“It means, all the girls at school are gonna like you.”

“You think so?”

He asked, tilting his head to the side. “I know so little man.” Jax’s face lit up from the boost of confidence. Ruffling the little boy’s hair, Dean convinced him to eat the rest of his lunch and if he did, as a reward, he’d get a giant cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream.

A thousand thoughts began to fill your head when lying in bed. Mary mentioned earlier that her son was going to bring Jax in later on today but for now; you’d be drowning in your own thoughts until then. You couldn’t help but wonder if Clint knew where you were. He was an asshole but, he was too smart for his own good. He hung out with sketchy people and with the close friends he had in the police force; you never knew what he’d pull out from under his sleeve. A graduate from Clemson University, finishing his MD degree within four years tops. He was even recognized by the AMA Foundation, who would award Doctors and Surgeons the recognition they deserved. You felt as if you were a bird in a cage. You had your doubts that he knew absolutely nothing, and that he had moved on. But you couldn’t just assume that’s what he did, so you needed to play it safe. A soft knock filled the room, breaking you from your thoughts.

The door slowly creaked open as Mary peaked her head in from behind the door.

“Hi, sweetie!”

She cooed, as you gave her a weary smile. “Hey.”

“How ya feeling?” You shrugged, not even sure yourself. “I’m okay, I guess. But how’s Jax?”

“Ask him yourself.” You heard the faint sound of pitter-pattered footsteps quickly approaching the room. “Mama!” Jax let his backpack fall to the ground, sprinting towards you. "Hi, baby!” You cried, pulling him up into a hug. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and that’s when you broke down. You closed your eyes for a few seconds; holding him desperately in your arms. The moment Dean laid eyes on you; his heart skipped a beat. You opened your eyes to meet the mechanic that helped you two weeks ago. Small world, you thought to yourself. Of course, he was Mary’s son. He looked just like her, now that you saw them standing side by side. You mouthed a thank you to Dean, him doing the same, saying you're welcome. Whoever her son was, even if it wasn’t Dean, you would’ve said thank you either way. Not needing to have brought Jax back to the hospital but did anyway.

Mary looked between the two of you; familiarity obvious in both of your eyes. A smile tugged at her lips, “do you two know each other?”  Dean’s stomach backflipped, but his voice remained steady. “I fixed her car not too long ago.” For a stupid moment, Dean was surprised his mom took notice of the lingering looks between the two of you. Yet his eyes showed no surprise to the way you looked right now; it only showed relief.  She let out a breath and cleared her throat. “Well, I’m glad you feel a little better, (Y/N),” she began while fixing the strap of her purse on her shoulder. She looked from you to Dean as her mouth twitched. “But I have to get back to work, the assembly is almost over.” Dean looked from Mary to dropping his head to the tile floor.

“Yeah, I should head out too.”

The little boy looked between the two Winchesters as he sat upon the edge of the bed. “Can’t you stay a little longer?” Dean looked over his shoulder at his mom; who was pursing her lips into a tight smile when closing the door. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Jax – I – I don’t know about that; your mom might just want to hang out with you, she hasn’t seen you since yesterday afternoon.” Jax hopped off the bed and ran over to him. “No no no, we can all hang out together!” He pleaded. Dean looked between the two of you. With no response, Jax made his way back over to you. “Mama please!” You looked up at the man, a little unsure If he himself wanted to stay. He shrugged with a tight smile. “I got nowhere to be, but, only if it’s okay with you.”

He was hoping you’d say yes. He wanted to know the woman who raised this 3-foot 7-inch, fireball of a little boy. But He didn’t want to be a pushover and freak you out, so he waited for your answer instead. “You can sit down if you want to.” Dean slowly moved further into the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. And for some time, remained silent. “Mama look!” Jax ran over to his backpack and pulled out his coloring book. “You colored Elmo and Miss Piggy?”

“Actually,” Dean interjected; holding up a finger, “that was me.”

“Dean wanted to color Miss Piggy. I said it was okay because he told me he likes bacon.”

Looking forward to lunch, given you had missed breakfast, you had hoped the hospital food at least improved. But that all changed when you saw the tray that sat in front of you. Dean offered to go down the Jamison’s Diner and grab you up some real food since you only ate the chocolate pudding, they gave you. “Alright sweetheart, what do ya want? A Burger? Steak maybe? Or even better, chili cheese fries?”  You shrugged, “just a house salad is fine.” Dean's smile faded into a blank expression. “I’m – I’m, I’m sorry. A what, now?” He asked, dumbfounded by your answer. “A salad?” You answered calmly, oblivious to Dean’s disgust. “I’m not going there to get you rabbit food.” He pressed, wanting to get his point across. You rolled your eyes, “fine get me a burger!” Dean pointed a finger at you, clicking his tongue. “You got it.” You couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t perhaps fate, but that it was just expected long hours of boredom that turned to – well, friendship. It was nice because even given the limited time together, you were enjoying his company. Jax, who was standing by the door, caught a glimpse of his new favorite Dr., who was standing by the front desk; looking through a patient’s papers. He smiled brightly and ran up to the tall man. “Dr. Castillo!” He hid the papers under his clipboard; trying to be as discreet as possible. The Dr. cleared his throat, his elbow leaning onto the desk.

“Hey, buddy! How are you?” Jax put two thumbs up, “never better!” He exclaimed, hopping a little in place from the excitement. “And what about your mom?”

“She’s a lot better now. Me and Dean are going to get us all some real food and we’re gonna surprise her with apple pie. Dean told me the pie helps the healing process.”

“Dean?” The Dr. questioned. Jax strictly nodded with a lopsided smile. “He’s going to watch me until mama gets better.” "When the Dr. noticed a younger man approach the two of them, he stood up straighter; trying to show dominance.

Excuse me?” He trailed and squinted down at the man’s badge with the Dr. rolling his eyes at this so-called Dean’s unintelligence. “Dr. Castillo,” he sneered with a glare. Dean’s face lit up as he chuckled to himself, mumbling that he already knew that.

“How do you get outta here again?”

“Go down to the main elevator, go to floor three, use the escalator and then make a right to the double doors. You won’t miss it.” Dean patted the Dr. on the shoulder. “Appreciate it, doc.” As they brushed past the man, he kept his undivided attention on the two while they made their way down the hall. Just one more person to worry about now, he thought to himself. Catching Dean off guard, Jax grabbed a hold of his hand; making him glance down for a second, a little shocked. “What was his deal?”

Dean shrugged, “I don’t know? Maybe he’s just jealous of how awesome you look right now.”

Jax made a not so bad expression, “or maybe it’s because I’m a chick magnet.”

Dean gave the five-year-old a sly grin. “Atta – boy.”

After eating lunch, you were more than satisfied. A full stomach, a shit ton of pain meds, and amazing company.  You had to say, that the day did go by a lot faster than it would’ve been. Probably just because you had to sit in a room, finding ways to entertain yourself. Around 7:30, Jax ended up on the bed with you, with his head resting on your chest as you played with his hair. He was fighting to stay awake; he would butt into a conversation you and Dean were having, only to mumble incoherent things that made no sense. Just then, he murmured something you were waiting for him to ask. “Could you please sing our song mama?” Nodding and stroking your fingers through his hair, you began to sing the song you dedicated to Jax the day you brought him home. “Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near? Just like me, they long to be close to you.” Jax always told you that you had a pretty voice. Some parents would turn the radio on for their kids at night; like a lullaby. That’s what your dad did for you. When you’d keep your mom up all hours of the night, he would take over. Letting the soft ambiance of the KTEQ station filling your nursery with the greatest 70’s hits as he stood in the middle of the room; rocking you back and forth in his arms until you fell asleep. He began humming along with you as his body became heavy. “On the day that you were born the angels got together, and decided to create a dream come true. So, they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold And starlight in your eyes of blue.” You continued to sing a little lower this time. “That is why all the girls in town, follow you all around. Just like me, they long to be, Close to you.” Dean rose a brow. “The Carpenters?” A shy smile crossed your lips. “Yeah, I couldn’t get him to stop crying the night I brought him home from the hospital.” You paused for a second, furtive glances in Dean’s direction every now and then. You cleared your throat, “anyway, I – I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t have my parents or his dad to help me. I thought I could maybe sing to him; thinking that might help, and believe it or not, it did.”

His green eyes gleamed at you, which made you suppress a laugh, “It’s stupid I know.” He chuckled amusedly, “no, not really.” You paused to look back at him. “My mom used to sing Hey Jude for me, so I’m not one to judge. I think it's pretty cool.” You both took advantage that Jax was in a dreamless sleep. Beginning to muse about almost anything; listening to one another. It was a great way to take your mind off the pain in your leg.

For the rest of the afternoon, Dean would talk as you listened in silence, vice versa. You went on to talk about what you would expect on your wedding day when you were young, how you felt after Jax was born, and your rule to never listen to Styx for personal reasons. Dean would go on about the embarrassing stories he had on his baby brother. To his favorite classic rock bands; songs included or The Untouchable's most iconic lines.

In the end, Dean was glad that he hadn't passed up staying with the two of you.

“I should get going, it's getting late.”

“Yeah, you're right.”

You shot him a knowing smile. “Didn't mean to talk your ear off.” Dean grinned, shaking his head. He would've said the opposite, considering the obvious chemistry, he wanted to understand you better. He wanted to know what he might be getting himself into. He found you extremely easy to get along with, so he didn’t mind. Dean ambled along over to you, pulling you in for a meaningful hug. “Thank you,” you said in a hushed tone. He could feel your breath up against his ear, and the smell of your perfume, that still lingered from yesterday when you had put it on. Something aromatically sweet. “Anytime sweetheart.” He couldn’t see your face, but he heard your sigh of relief to make up for it. You were absolutely positive that your heart was going to explode out of your chest from the way he made you feel. Giddy and weak in the knees, or like a cat on a hot tin roof. You pulled away slightly as your faces were merely inches apart from one another; lingering looks before completely breaking the embrace. You being the first to look away, was a shy reaction; enough to get Dean smiling with a bit of pride.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow morning.” He said, taking out his car keys. You gave him a weary smile, “see ya tomorrow morning.” Dean peered over behind his shoulder, to see Jax cuddled up into your side and you slowly giving into sleep with your arms wrapped securely around him. He smiled to himself before ever so gently, shutting the door.

Dr. Castillo peered from around the corner, glowering at Dean as he made his way to the elevator. He knew the five-year-old would be okay, that was what he hoped for. But with you? He had his eyes on you constantly; making sure you were okay. I mean, why would he not? He was the one who put you in the hospital in the first place.

Tag list:

@iris-nicara @justkending

[bangbangchanie]

Maybe~Chan/ Changbin

Summary: When the love of your life died, falling again is paralyzing yet the person who's always been there makes it a maybe.

Paring: Reader x Chan(Past)/ Reader x Changbin

Warning: Character death, like angst really angst. Fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

AN: Admin Winnie here! Finally reposting this after removing a certain someone. Its the same sad story just with Changbin:)

Arms were tightly wrapped around your waist as your eyes stared at the scene in front of you. Red and blue lights flashing in the dark night sky as smoke and a blaring ringing sound echoes through your ears. You didn't realize you were screaming, screaming out his name as you saw his mangled car. Your knees buckled as the EMT who was holding you fell with you.

“Christopher!” You sobbed. His eyes were watching you from the scene, his body moving across the road.

“Baby, are you okay?” He asks as he reaches mid way as you cry his name again. “Baby, Y/n I’m right in front of yo-” he was cut off from talking and walking when someone walked through him. Your cries grew distant as he looked at his chest, his eyes wide as he looked back to the car. His bleeding body was being dragged from the car, as CEPR was being performed. It felt surreal, watching his limp body move with someone’s pushed against his chest. He brought out his thoughts when your cry turned into a scream of pain. His eyes met your crumbling body, he moved to you. His hand reaching out to only have it pass through your face making you curse.

“I’m here, baby, right in front of you. I swear I’m not leaving, not now, not ever.” He whispered tears trailing down his face as you finally stopped screaming his name and just cried. “I’m still here.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Chris..Chris was the life of the party even if there wasn’t one.” Minho said as he shook his head a small smile lifted up on his lips, though his smile was painfully matched with swollen red bloodshot eyes. His cheeks puffy as you stood in all black in your shared apartment. “He did this thing where if it was too quiet he’d just start singing a random ass song and dancing. You know? He..he always tried to find the light in the dullest things, and he always…he always made me feel..us feel like we were…are bigger than this.” His eyes tailored to your hunched body, your eyes dull as you give him a small smile, tears trailing down your face as his mother grips your hand. Her sobs wracked her body as Minho looked at the glass in his hand. “Y/n..Mr. and Mrs. Bang..Chris…god he was a special man. I am so thankful you two gave him a life and a voice..and Y/n thank you for making him smile when no one else could…this is for you brother.” Chris was next to you and his mother, his eyes tearing up as he watched Minho turn around and let out a small sob as he walked away. Changbin stepped up, his skin pasty and his eyes just as bloodshot.

“We met in the second grade..he was new and had this accent that kids liked to make fun of. But he never saw it as a set back, and took it as a complement…he..fuck.” Changbin stopped speaking as he wiped his eyes. “I..I was told a month ago that he was..was looking for a ring.” He paused, making you stop breathing for a split second as you leaned closer to his mother, your heart clenching as Changbin looked at you. “I was told to prepare a speech as best man, that who I was to Chris and who he was to me. He was..and still is my brother. A man I want to scream at because he left us. He left me. With a speech, and no event to give it at. I wanted to give it here, but I can’t because it hurts too much. I’m so sorry Y/n..” Changbin coughs as he steps away as you wipe at your face. You take a shaky breath as you stand. His brother is clinging to your hand as Chris watches you, moving to stand to your blank side.

“Thank you all for coming..I know..I know Chris would scream at us all for crying like this.” Your words made his mother choke back a cry as his father rubbed her shoulder. “He didn't like it when the people he loved were upset, or cried. He didn’t enjoy not know-knowing how to fix..fix it all.” You breathed out as you messed with your black dress. “He loved with his whole heart…we all know that. He did..he did this weird habit that I still don’t understand and I was with him for four years..but where’d he grab the bottom of his shirt and spread it out in front of him when he was in deep thought.” His mother chuckled as she shook her head.

“He stretched every single one of his school shirts.” She said, making the room lightly laugh as you look at Changbin and Minho who clang to each other, their trio now turning into a duo.

“We love you Chris..I love you.” You whisper as you sit back down, people now talking among one another as you swear you feel a wetness drop on your shoulder where his head hangs over as he tries to imagine his arms around you.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Honestly fuck you Christopher Bang!” You scratched at the broken picture frame. Your eyes were full of tears as you looked out the window. People living their lives, unknowingly passing the house of a broken girl that had black running down her face and it pissed you off that they didn’t know.

His scent was still wrapped around you, around the four walls of the apartment you shared together. His clothes still hung up in the clothes, and tossed outside of a drawer. His pillow at the end of the bed and his shoes resting against the front door wall.

“I hate you so much!” Your voice cracked as you fell to the hardwood ground. His large sweater falls over your hands as you bring your knees to your chest and sob into them. “Yo-you just left, n-no good-goodbye n-no an-anything.” You cried tears falling down as you rocked back and forth. The pain in your chest was breaking you down, shattering against any idea of love you had any future you planned together. You swear you heard his voice making you perk up and look around, the shuffling of his pillow made you stand up and wipe your cheeks. “Chris?” You whispered as you watched the bed dip.

“Y/n?” Changbin called out as he slowly set the key he had been given when you and Christopher had moved in. He was the security blanket for you two, always making sure you were sleeping, and eating. Killed the bug for the both of you, and watched the place as you traveled. “Oh Y/n.” He whispered seeing you down the hall in the bedroom. He walked down as you keep your eyes locked on the pillow, a dip in the bed that wasn’t there before. Your heart stopped as an arm wrapped around your middle, making you blink, and the dip in the bed was gone. “Come on, let me make you some hot chocolate.” He whispered against your hair as he pulled away and took your hand. His own body was covered in one of Christopher’s jackets. His body moved throughout the kitchen. “A month down.” He whispers, making you sigh as you let out another sob as your head falls.

“I-i miss him so fucking much.” You sob, making Changbin stop moving as he turns and looks at you. “Th-this isn't fair, we-we were gonna move into a house.” You whisper, making Changbin face you his mouth parted at the new information. “My love, my hero ,my everything was ripped for me…and it’s all his fault.” You sob, making Woojin jump into your body, his arm tightly wrapped around you as your body shakes.

“It's gonna be okay…it's gonna get easier..I think.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“What the fuck did you do to our bed?!” You scream at Minho and Changbin  who were standing in the living room talking.

“What do you mean? I mean I made it-ow!” Minho cried as you slapped him. Tears falling down your face as you glare at him.

“His pillow stays where it was, his blanket stays bunched up..I can't recreate it, because it won't be the damm same! You asshole!” You cry as you start to shake as Minho's eyes widen. Not realizing it hadn't made sense he last laid there.

“I did-didn't know.” Your body shook as Chan finally found a way to hug you without passing through you. His head nuzzles your neck making you cry harder.

“Im..I’m sorry.” You whisper, making Minho step forward and cup your cheek.

“It's okay.” Chris moves away and Minho and you share a group hug with Woojin.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Chris..I know this..this is weird.” You mumble as Chris sits next you on the bed, his hands reaching for your thigh as you let out a deep breath of air. “This is honestly crazy..but I just need you to know..what I said a few weeks ago..that it was your fault..it..it wasn't true..and when I screamed I hate you..it wasn't even close to the truth. Because…'cause you were..were the one and..I still need you here but you gone..and I took it personal…but death shouldn’t be personal.” You whisper, making him lightly smile as you take a deep breath. “I think..I think I’m gonna pack up some of your clothes.. give a few to your mom. They all smell like you.” You whisper as you reach for your phone and call up his mom for help.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Are you sure you're ready for this?” He asked as he watched you pack some of his shirts and pants for goodwill.

“Yeah..it's been nine months..I need to do this..it's not a lot..but..a start?” You mumble making Minho nod as he helps you empty one draw of his. “Okay..no more.”

“Progress.”

“Progress.” Giving each other a high five Chris chuckles as Minho misses making you laugh echo in return. Something Chris hasn’t heard in months.

Progress it was.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Binnie!” You laughed as Changbin spun you around your living room, his hand tickling your sides as Chris watched, a ping of jealousy hitting him. But he understood, watching you and his friends the past few months, the feeling for Changbin had grown for you and you him.

He wanted you two happy.

So he came up with a plan, his spirit moved through the walls as he grabbed your journal and opened up to your most recent entry. His eyes scan the words.

'I haven’t felt this way about someone since I first met Chris..and it feels wrong but so right at the same time. Changbin had made this feeling come up that I thought I’d never feel again. And it’s scary. I don't know if I can handle losing someone again.’

And then he knocks a picture frame down making a loud crash disrupt the two of you messing around. Changbin stood up straight as he placed you close to the couch and looked down the hall.

“Wait here."he mumbled walking into your bedroom, where he looked around till a picture frame that he glued together from the time you’d throw it across the room in a fit of anger, caught his eyes. It was a picture of Chris smiling, his eyes bright as your lips pressed against his cheek. It made Changbin smile as he saw the man he considered his brother, he hadn’t looked at a photo of him in a year, it felt good. It felt good seeing his face again, even if it would never be the same. It was still Christopher Bang smiling, and he swore he could hear the hum sound he made while you kissed his cheek.

As he moved it back where he remembered where he placed it after he fixed it. His eyes casted down and he saw your entry, and his heart began to speed up.

"She..she feels the same?” He whispered to himself, making Chris smile as he stood next to him and spoke.

“Of course she does, you make her happy.” Changbin jumped as he felt the vibrations of a voice he knew all too well in his head. “Can you hear me?” Chris said, making Changbin look around, and nod slightly.

“Bin? Is everything okay?” You ask walking into your room seeing the frame in his hand, his wide eyes stare at you.

“Uh..yeah.” he chokes as he runs his hand down his face. “Yeah..just this picture fell.” You humm as you move to stand next to him and stare at the two of you, tears gather in your eyes making Chris reach to wipe it away as he did so Changbin. He smiled at his friend as he watched the two of you stare at each other.

“Oh..shit.” you whisper seeing your entry that was open as you move fast to shut it. Already having an idea that he knew and now was ready to leave and never come back.“Did you..”

“Yeah. Yeah I did.”

“I think..I think you should go.” You whisper, making Changbin frown as he moves to rest and hand on your shoulder but you shrugged to get away from him. “Just..just leave..please.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Y/n, please call me back. We need to talk..please.” You listened to your voicemail again, Changbin pleas only made your heart break more.

“Dammit women, call him back!” Chris snaps as he watches you bite your lip. His favorite sweater wrapped around you, making his dead heart thud rapidly against his chest. Then his own voice travels through the air making his eyes widen. “Why do you do this to yourself, baby?”

“Hey baby, I just wanted to call to let you know I’ll be outside of the building waiting for you in five…I know I’m too late to change but I think my office attire will work for the date..I know you’ll look beautiful as usual..hence why you’re probably not answering me! But it's fine,I love you..I’ll see you in a bit.” You play another one, “Baby! Changbin just dropped off food, I swear he’d be a better boyfriend than me like how he is his single! Anyway I just wanted to call and say I love you, and have an amazing day at work!” As you went to play another you phone began to glitch due to Chris being the playfully smart ghost he is, and found a way to only play the part he wanted you to hear. “I love you, but it's fine you like Changbin.” It was choppy and wasn’t even a proper sentence but it made you throw your phone onto the bed as you stare at it. It played again, and again as Chris watched your eyes widen.

“Christopher Bang I swear if this you are coming to haunt my ass I’ll find a way to bring you back and kill you again!” You whisper, making him chuckle, your eyes snap to the empty spot in front of you, where he sat. “I..I finally broke didn’t I..cause I did..I did not just hear that laugh.” You whimper, making him frown as he looks at you. “I’ve missed that laugh.” You breathe out making him giggle, a smile lifting on your cheeks as your phone rings pulling you out of your thoughts.

Binnie is calling.

“Pick it up.” Chris said, making you roll your lip as you hear the very faint vibrations, like he was talking while you rested your head on his chest.

“Hello?” You answer by making Woojin let out a breath as he begins to speak but you cut him off. “I..I like you.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“I haven’t been here since the funeral.” You whisper walking hand and hand with Changbin, followers and balloons in hand as Chris' family walks in front of you. It was his birthday today. You somehow had gotten through the first one, tears and snot but this one..this one was easier in a way. Chris trailed next to the two of you as he watched you closely, the twinkle in your eye was back, Changbin's smile was bigger than ever.

Soon you reached his tombstone, bending down your smile, “Hi baby.” You whisper as Chris sits next to his name, you sit on the grass as his family sits on the bench next to his grave. Changbin sits behind you, over the last few months Chris' family has fully supported you two with the love that was twining the two of you. You place the flowers next to his name and lean against Changbin. “Happy birthday weirdo.” You mumble, making Changbin laugh as Minho arrives, his body moving to sit next to the two of you as he hits a card in his hand. “What’s that Min?” You ask.

“I….just a letter to my brother.” Minho says, making you nod as he places it next to your flowers, Chris smiles at his friends and family.

“What do you think he's doing right now?”

“About to fight Changbin.” Minho says with a smile, making Chris' mother laugh as she shakes her head.

“Idiot.” Changbin said, hitting his shoulder as he laughed and nuzzled his face into your shoulder.

“I..I hope he’s happy wherever he is. I hope he is at peace and that…that he isn’t actually haunting me.” You laugh, making Chris follow as Changbin nods and Minho and his family giggle. “I mean he said, if he ever died he’d haunt me so I’m wondering if it’s happening.” You said wiping the tear that fell down your cheek.

“I wonder if he can finally sit in peace and enjoy the quiet sunsets.” Minho mumbles, making the three of you look at eachother and break out in laughter.

“As if.” Changbin laughs as you place your head into his collarbone.

“I just want him to be happy.”

“I am happy..I think..I think I can leave now.” Chris mumbles to himself, another Ghost at the tree waiting with a smile on his face, freckles covering his cheeks as his fringe falls over his eyes.“I..I can let go now. Baby..baby I ..I love you so much. I know you won't hear this, I know you won’t..but I just..I just love you so much. I’m so happy you’re happy. Thank you for the birthday wishes…I love you guys.” He stood up and walked to the tree, the unknown ghost smiled and clapped him on the back.

“Are you ready for the fun part kid?” He asks, making Chris look at him with wide eyes.

“Will..will I see them again?” His question made the unknown ghost chuckle as he laughed.

“Ah you kids, never truly know what’s out there for us…you’ll see them whenever they visit here. You’ll get like a ring in your head, and any gift they leave for you you’ll be able to pick up and keep it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Felix, died 1976, leukemia at 17….you?”

“Christopher…died in 2020, in a car crash at 23.”

[songbirdstyles]

whole lotta love.

summary: you patch spencer up after a particularly difficult case.

warnings: pure smut, fluff if you squint

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 4.5k

song inspo.: whole lotta love - led zeppelin

For all intents and purposes, you’ve gotten very used to the less-than-glamorous aspects of Spencer’s job.

Sure, you don’t love when the familiar ding of his phone stops whatever he’s doing in its tracks, whether you two are curled up in bed at 2 AM or pressed against the wall together, your fingers furiously fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt to get it off as fast as possible. One notification from his phone and he’s wincing, giving you an apologetic kiss and a promise to call you as soon as we land. 

But - well, you hadn’t really had much of a choice besides getting used to that one. And it hasn’t been as bad as you’d initially expected because Spencer never fails to call you every night (calling only, no matter how many times you try to convince him to get a better phone so you two can FaceTime) and it does feel pretty worth it when he comes home and tells you about the case, about a victim the team had saved or an unsub they’d apprehended.

That being said, you still haven’t gotten used to the nights where he comes home looking like this.

“Jesus Christ, Spencer,” you murmur, bringing your palms up instinctively to press to his face. Your thumbs stroke along his cheek where a slash highlights the bone and the black and blue shadow surrounding his left eye. You’re nearly positive there are more wounds you can’t see - you’ll check - but you hate seeing him come home so beat up. “What the hell happened?”

“The EMTs checked me out,” Spencer explains, larger hands wrapping around your wrist and tugging your hands off of his face. He doesn’t like to be doted on and you know that, but it isn’t as though you can just ignore how he looks. “I’m fine. They’re just superficial cuts.”

You furrow your eyebrows, feeling his hands slide down your wrist until your fingers can intertwine with his, palm flush against his just the way you like it. “You look like you lost a wrestling match.”

Your boyfriend laughs at that, taking a step away from you and leading you from the foyer of your shared apartment towards the sitting room. “We saved two little girls, though,” he tells you, and that brings a smile to your face as you tug him towards the sitting room couch. “You know, it was really lucky - 99% of abducted children die in the first 24 hours -”

“ - 75% in the first three hours and 44% in the first,” you finish, pushing Spencer onto the couch just as a grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve heard you mention it so many times, I may as well remember it.”

“It is useful to know.”

“For you, maybe.” You lean down to press one gentle kiss to his lips before padding off towards the bathroom, pulling open one of the carefully organized first aid drawers to search for what you need. “Just stay there, Spence.”

He merely hums in response and you can imagine him - exhausted to the bone - sinking into the cushions of the couch, surely ready to sleep, but you know you won’t be able to rest until you patch him up. Seeing him beaten up is more common than you’d prefer but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, necessarily - even though you have to say you’ve gotten quite good at cleaning cuts.

Just as you pick up a small rag, turning on the sink to soak the cloth with cold water, Spencer calls from the sitting room, “Make sure you remember the Vaseline. Hydrates the wound and provides an occlusive layer which keeps the wound covered.”

You snort, digging through the drawer until you find the small tub of petroleum jelly that you always resort to when cleaning him up before turning off the sink, ringing out the washcloth so it doesn’t drip on the floor. “I know,” you call back, using your elbow to flick off the lightswitch before crossing the apartment to the kitchen, pretending like you don’t see Spencer’s gaze following you from the couch. “Come on, honey. This isn’t my first rodeo, you know?”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs as you pull open the freezer, pressing the back of your hand to each unopened bag of frozen vegetables to find the coldest one - as it turns out, it’s the peas, buried deep in the freezer, and you pull the bag out before shutting the door once more. 

Vaseline and cloth in one hand and the cold bag of peas in the other, you flash Spencer a small smile as you turn to walk back to the sitting room. One short glance to the clock mounted on the wall tells you that it’s nearly 11 but you’re not nearly as tired as you’d expect, and, as you wiggle your eyes at your boyfriend as you stand between his open legs, you don’t reckon Spencer is, either.

It’s an easy maneuver to climb on top of him, legs straddling his thighs until you’re settled in his lap and your bodies fit together like they were made for each other. You can practically hear his heart thumping through his dress shirt and you’d love nothing more than to lean down and unbutton his shirt, press lingering kisses to every bit of exposed skin, but there are more pressing matters - your own needs can wait until later.

You can feel Spencer’s hands, softly touching the backs of your thighs, fingertips drumming against the smooth skin. Even when you’re so close you can feel his hesitation with being intimate like this, how he’s careful not to press too hard as if he’ll break you and you shift backwards on his lap, deepening his grasp on your thighs and he smiles softly.

(Both of you pretend not to notice the slight bulge in his pants, pressing against you as you raise the cool bag of peas to his black eye.)

“Do you want me to hold it?” Spencer questions, letting his right eye flutter closed as you dab at the slice on his cheek with your cloth, the cool water dripping down the sharp lines of his cheekbones towards his jawline. “The peas, I mean.”

“No,” you’re quick to respond, and you’re sure he’s having no difficulty profiling exactly why you’d rather him keep his hands right where they are. “I’ve got it.”

His voice is hardly above a breath as he murmurs alright, tilting his head towards you as you rub gently at the cut before leaning forward, chest pressed close to his as you lazily toss the rag onto the table sitting behind the couch. Now you can feel his heart beating - or maybe it’s yours? - and when you shift back to your previous position, you can’t possibly help yourself from leaning down, slotting your lips against his and feeling his tongue instinctively slip into your mouth.

Hands slide up your thighs, pausing for a brief moment to grope at your ass before continuing their trek upwards. Your free hand not holding the makeshift ice pack to his eye tangles in his hair, fingertips digging in his scalp as his arms wrap securely around your waist, hips bucking up into yours and that’s when you pull away. Smooth your fingers through his hair, watch the way he swallows thickly, lips moist with the mixture of your saliva.

“Sorry,” you murmur, dragging your hand from his head down to his cheek, cupping his face in your palm as he leans into your touch. He looks almost betrayed, bottom lip perking out in a pout and you sigh. “I have to patch you up, Spence.”

“I’ll be fine,” Spencer insists, sliding his hands up your waist as you work at opening the cap of the Vaseline. Your fingers are still wet from clutching the cloth and trying to do it one handed proves to be useless, and your boyfriend reluctantly pulls his hands from your waist to open the jelly for you with an ease that sends heat creeping up your cheeks before returning his palms back to their spot. “Do you know how many times I’ve gotten cut on the job?”

“I don’t think I want to know.” You dip your finger into the Vaseline and bring it up to his cheekbones, dabbing it gently on the cut. When you’ve finished you rub the jelly off of your finger and onto your sleep shorts, cringing at the slimy feeling before reaching for the bandaid sitting between your bodies. “I’m almost done.”

You fumble with the band aid, pulling both plastic pieces off the ends before pressing yourself closer to Spencer, holding the bag of peas to his eye with your forearm as you grip the adhesive with both hands. Steady fingers press the sticky band aid to his newly cleaned cut, making sure it’s perfectly centered over the injury before smoothing your fingers over it, giving it one light slap to make sure it stuck.

“Voila,” you exhale, sitting backwards to examine your work. “All done.”

“Thank God,” Spencer sighs, and you have just one spare moment of lingering eye contact before he’s pushing his head up, lips pressing to yours so intensely that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. Immediately you part your lips for him, feeling his tongue slip into your mouth as you arch your back, chest pressed against his as you lean into his touch. The bag you’d been clutching to his eye drops from your grasp, falling between your bodies as you press both palms to the side of his face, grinning against his mouth as he jumps. “Your hands are so cold.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling his fingertips creep up your back, pushing your shirt up until his palms are pressed to your bare skin, a chill rolling up your spine, and a soft whine emits from your throat into his mouth just as his fingers begin toying with the clasp of your bra. “Don’t tease, Spence - take it off, please.”

He exhales into your mouth and you furrow your eyebrows, pulling away from him and dropping your forehead against his. “You’re so impatient.” And then his hands slide back down your back, away from the clasp you’re desperate for him to undo. “It makes sense - you’re always extra needy when I come home from missions. Getting off through the phone isn’t as good as the real thing, is it? Not for you.”

A soft sigh escapes your lips as Spencer leans forward, lips attaching to the underside of your jaw and you can feel him suckling softly on the soft skin, surely looking to leave one of the lasting marks that he loves to examine days after he makes them. Perhaps it’s because of the long distance nature of his job that he enjoys marking you up, making sure anyone with wandering eyes knows that you’re accounted for even when he’s not with you, or maybe he just likes claiming you as his own - either way, you wouldn’t dare to object. “Don’t profile me,” you plead, head tilting backwards as Spencer’s lips pull off of your jawline with a soft pop, thumb stroking over the skin he’d been assaulting as if to assess whether the hickey he’d left is adequate. “Come on, Spence.”

You reach down for the bottom of your tank top, pulling the offending fabric up and over your head without another moment of hesitation. The shirt is discarded, tossed to a corner of the sitting room and you don’t bother confirming where it goes - you just loop your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, leaning in to kiss him again but he stops you, tugging on your bra strap with not nearly enough strength to prevent your movement but you accept the gesture, leaning backwards until your eyes connect with his.

“Can’t you just indulge me?” you question, arching your back into Spencer’s touch as his hands move from around your back to your chest, palms cupping your tits through your bra. “Please?”

There’s another pause, Spencer’s fingertips dipping into the cups of your bra, palms warm against your chest. “Well, since you asked nicely.”

You smile, leaning in to attach your lips to his, teeth gently sinking into his bottom lip just as he pulls down the straps of your bra, letting them fall down your arms so he can pull the cups down over your breasts. Fingertips pinch your nipples and you whine into his mouth, pushing your chest further into his hands as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

For a minute you go on just like that - hands on your tits, groping the skin and thumbing your nipples until you pull your lips from his, gasping in a breath as you rock your hips against the bulge in his pants. “Fuck,” he breathes as your fingers go to the buttons of his shirt, pulling them open one by one to expose more and more of his chest to you, and your head dips down to press a kiss to his collarbone just as you’d fantasized doing before.

When you’ve undone every button you pull both halves of his shirt apart, tugging the sleeves down his arms and he removes his hands from your body so you can pull it off - it’s thrown in another direction much like your tank top and you’re more than grateful to have Spencer’s entire torso exposed to you. Hands smooth up and down his chest, feeling his skin burst up in goosebumps beneath your touch and you watch his mouth part open with pleasure before leaning forward again, slotting your lips against his once more.

“Take my bra off,” you beg, and his eyebrows arch upwards like the request was simply blasphemous. “Please, Spence - please - want you to touch me -”

“I am touching you.” And to prove his point his hands smooth up and down your waist, fingertips drumming your skin. 

Your eyes drift shut as Spencer’s hips roll up into yours, prominent bulge brushing against your clit even through your sleep shorts and you focus your hands on his shoulders, using your grasp as leverage to rock your hips further into his. “Just take it off - don’t tease me, please!”

You’re not sure whether it’s his own desires to strip you down or if he’s not interested in teasing you any longer but no matter - Spencer’s fingers slide up your back, briefly fiddling with the clasp of your bra before undoing it and the cups fall away from your chest, straps sliding down your arms and you pull it off, tossing it over the top of the couch. The coldness of the apartment bites at your skin and a shiver rolls through your spine, the sensation only heightened as Spencer ducks his head down, tongue flicking against your nipple before his lips close around it, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the hollow bud and you throw your head back with a loud cry.

“Take your shorts off,” Spencer mumbles, voice muffled against your tits and you oblige, shaky hands dropping to tug the tie on your shorts free. It’s a struggle to pull them off your legs while straddling him, his arms wrapping around your back to hold your chest to his mouth as you maneuver the fabric until you can drop it over the side of the couch, leaving you only in your panties and he’s quick to take advantage of your new near-nudeness. Hands slide down your back, fingers hooking in the hem of your thong and palms groping your ass and whatever shyness he’d had before about groping your thighs is gone - when things get going he’s fucking unstoppable and that’s what you love. 

You drag your hands down his chest, fingertips dragging feather-light on his stomach before you reach his lap, undoing the button on his pants and pulling the zipper down. His hips buck upwards when your fingertips brush the bulge in his boxers and you bite back your smile, resting your forehead against his once more as you pull the hem of his underwear down over his cock, hand wrapping around his erection without another second of hesitation and Spencer’s head drops back onto the cushion, a low groan emitting from his throat.

His fingers follow the hem of your thong around your hips until he’s tracing the fabric covering your pussy, cloth soaked with your arousal and even just the slightest touch has you whining out, grasp tightening around his cock. “I need to be inside you,” Spencer murmurs, and the words are so filth-laden that you moan out again, feeling his fingers pull your panties to the side until his digits dip through your folds, circling your clit and smirking at the way you tremor above him. “You want that too, don’t you? I can tell - you’re shaking and you keep making those little noises.”

Don’t profile me is what you would say if you were in any other state of mind but the only thing you can think to respond with is a soft moan, dropping your head back as Spencer leans in, lips closing in around your throat again. Your hand pumps his cock, thighs quivering in their efforts to hold yourself above him, and his hand that isn’t holding your panties to the side mercifully slides to your ass, holding you up as you align him with your entrance. Slowly you sink down onto him - for a guy so skinny he’s bigger than you’d expect and you always need to start slow to adjust - and within seconds you’ve bottomed out, feeling his cock buried deeper inside of you than you could ever imagine, and the two of you collectively lean in to press your lips together, moans landing inside each other’s mouths.

“Oh, God,” you breathe, shifting closer to him so your chests brush together and Spencer’s arm tightens around your back, holding you as tight to him as possible. He knows enough to give you a moment’s adjustment period, body quivering as he struggles to stay still but he’d never dream of moving until you’re perfectly comfortable. “Okay - move, Spence - I’m ready - need you to fuck me -”

He nods immediately, fingernails scratching into the sides of your waist as you pull yourself up, lifting until only the tip of his cock remains buried in your pussy before sinking back down, head pulling away from his to drop back in ecstasy at the sensation. Immediately you feel Spencer’s head bury itself in the junction between your neck and shoulder, breath hot and lips puckered against your skin as he presses a permanent kiss to the side of your throat, arms around your body helping you move up and down on him. 

It takes a moment for you two to work yourselves into a groove, feeling Spencer’s teeth dig into your throat as you sink back down onto him over and over again - but once you do it feels fucking miraculous, rolling your hips back and forth so your clit brushes against his pelvic bone. Your palms press to the sides of his face, feeling the light dusting of facial hair beneath your touch and you nearly want to pull his head up, smash your lips together until you’re breathless but the way he’s suckling dark marks around your throat feels so good and you’re not sure you’re willing to give it up - you compromise by looping your arms around his neck, fingernails scratching into the base of his neck.

“God, Spencer,” you moan, your speed picking up as you lift yourself off of him and slam back down, feeling his breathing pick up into your neck as his nails dig so deep into your waist that it nearly hurts but in the best fucking way possible. He loves when you praise him - you know that - and you never have an issue indulging him. “Feels so good - filling me so good -”

And there’s that telltale groan into your neck followed by Spencer pulling his lips from your throat and when your eyes meet his they’re clouded with lust, pupils drowning out the normal chocolate tone of his orbs that you love to see but hell if you don’t adore seeing him like this. His mouth drops open with a silent groan as you grind your hips into his, tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck just the way you know he likes.

Your thighs burn vehemently as you struggle to keep yourself upright, the urge to merely collapse into your boyfriend’s strong arms nearly overwhelming but your desire to prolong the pleasure coursing through your body far outweighs it. Spencer can feel your struggle - it’s the profiler in him, you’d assume - and his arms slowly unwrap from around your body, palms landing on the underside of your ass and using the leverage to work you up and down. It doesn’t do much to alleviate the slight burn in your muscle but you appreciate it and so you lean in, pull Spencer’s face close to yours and close your lips to his once more.

“Gonna fill you up,” Spencer grunts and the words send your stomach turning just as his cock brushes that sweet spot deep inside of you that has your back arching, dropping your head into his shoulder with a desperate sob. “You want that?”

You nod desperately, eyes burning with tears derived from the pure ecstasy afflicting your body as you unwind one of your arms from his neck, pressing two of your fingers to your clit and rubbing small circles into the sensitive bud. Spencer typically always wears a condom - better safe than sorry is his motto - but it never stops him from hissing into your ear every time about how much he wants to fill you up and you fucking yearn for it, too. You need it. “Do it, Spence - please, I want you t - to fill me up.”

His hips thrust up into yours, meeting you halfway as a breathy groan escapes his throat. “I can’t -”

“I went on birth control, Spence, you can.”

He pauses - you lift your head up to look at him, hips briefly slowing down in their relentless rocking against his. “You know, on average the pill is only 91% effective.”

You grin, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips as his hips begin to roll up into yours again, his fingertips digging into the globes of your ass. “Let’s take our chances.”

It seems to be a good enough answer to him and so he nods, sweaty curls dropping onto his forehead and you bring your free hand up, pushing his hair back as your other hand focuses on circling your clit, sending lightning bolts of pleasure through your body. You’re so close you can practically taste your impending release on the tip of your tongue and you know Spencer’s almost there, too - can feel his cock, twitching deep inside of you, surely mere seconds away from imploding - and you clench around him just as you pinch your clit between your fingers and -

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and you never appreciate just how true the sentiment is until reunion sex with Spencer. After nearly a week of not seeing or touching each other your orgasm is fucking miraculous, stars dotting your vision as you throw your head back and your entire body feels like it’s floating, pleasure rolling through your body like a tsunami intent on destruction in the greatest way possible. You ground your hips into his, forcing him inside you to the hilt as your cunt flutters around his cock and you barely hear his loud moan, the noise growing higher as his hips buck into yours and then you can feel him cumming, the sensation hot in your core as he spurts inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” Spencer groans, smoothing his hands up your back as your hips roll against his, riding out both of your orgasms as you drop your head into his shoulder, feeling his lips land against your temple. “That’s - God, that’s so good.”

Yes, it is. It feels so fucking good, feeling him cumming deep inside of you and it’s all you can do to sit there and take it in, body going nearly limp against his until his arms are the only thing holding you up, his hands massaging your back as you let your eyes shut, focusing solely on steadying your breathing as the aftershocks of your release course through your veins.

There’s a second of silence - only a second, where the only noise from either of you is the sound of your panting, both of you desperate to catch your breath in the wake of it all - and then Spencer leans backwards, your chests pressed together as you press your lips to his cheek, feeling rather than seeing his lips turn upwards into a smile.

“Maybe I should get beat up by an unsub more often,” your boyfriend mumbles, smoothing his fingers through your hair, and you lift your head up to rest your chin to his shoulder, narrowing your eyes.

“You’d better not.” You shift on his lap, the burn in your muscles settling into a dull ache but you don’t have the energy to readjust - it’s a pain you don’t quite dislike, anyway. “I hate seeing you all cut up. I can’t believe anyone would want to ruin this pretty face.”

You raise your hand up, playfully smacking his cheek twice and he smiles. Then his hands grip onto your waist, lifting you up just a bit until his softened cock slips out of you and with just a bit of maneuvering he lies you down on the couch, shifting until he’s spooning you, chest pressed to your back and your heads resting on the cushion. One glance down tells you that this position can’t possibly be comfortable for him, his leg bent awkwardly and the other thrown over the edge of the couch but when he wraps his arms around your body you can’t bring it in yourself to mind too much.

The cool air of his apartment bites at your skin but it’s relieving, feeling the cold wash away the sweat built up on your skin from being so close to him - it’s a contrast you’re grateful for and it’s the reason you don’t tug the afghan hanging over the back of the couch over your bodies.

Well, you suppose that for every shortcoming of dating someone with a job like his there’s a bonus. And this - feeling his arms tight around your body, head pressed back into his chest with his heartbeat in your ears and his soft breathing onto your head - you’d certainly consider it a bonus.

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 2/?

A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve decided to call this fic Finding You, just to inform you for future chapters! Getting my second vaccine tomorrow!! 😁🤩

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp​, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies

Word Count: 2345 (this is so fucking satisfying omg)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Warnings: Just curse words, rewrites are hard but it’s kinda like shifting but through fanfiction??

Chapter Summary: Steve Rogers doesn’t trust you very much

Chapter 2: BUT YOU KNOW BETTER

On our way back, the STRIKE team is on celebration mode while Rogers is quiet. It won’t be a surprise if he goes to see Fury about the side mission I was assigned without his knowing. As we land on the Triskelion landing pad I watch as Captain Rogers leaves without a goodbye and heads to, undoubtedly, Fury’s office.

I tune into Fury’s communicator.

“Heads up, Fury. Angry Cap on your way. He found out about my mission.”

“Batroc?” he asks.

“He got away,” I answer regrettably.

“I’ll have international agents on high alert. You’ve done your part. Just leave the drive with me after Rogers.”

“Yes sir.”

I put all the weapons into the cache and go to clean up, changing out of my stealth suit and into a SHIELD hoodie and sweats that I keep in the locker for after missions. I wait by Fury’s office doors and he finally emerges from the elevator without an angry Cap.

“Gave him a little tour of Project Insight,” he says as he unlocks his office.

I walk in behind him. “That’s brave of you.”

“He didn’t like it.” He takes a seat and so did I.

“I’m sure he didn’t.” I fish out the hard drive and put it on the table. “One super secret hard drive for Nicholas J Fury,” I announce like a waitress.

“Good job.”

“He didn’t think so.”

“I want you to keep an eye on him. Just make sure he doesn’t do anything, alright?”

“What could he possibly do?” I raise my brows.

“He isn’t on board. I need you to get him there.”

“Don’t you already have an agent assigned to him?”

“Agent 13 is for when he’s off duty. You will be there for when he’s on.”

I scoff. “Have you met the guy? That’s all the time.”

“That’s an order, Agent.”

I nod. “Fine. Have you heard anything else on HYDRA?”

“The last reliable intel we have is three years old now, Y/N. It’s hard to track them down.”

“I don’t understand why you had to take me out. I was getting close to something. Someone. I don’t know.”

“Finding the world’s greatest soldier just took precedent. You weren’t getting anywhere for a whole year. Whatever it was, they packed it up tight.”

“Because it was something big,” I defend. “I still think you made the wrong choice. Captain America doesn’t need two babysitters.”

“Well, you try being asleep and waking up 70 years after to a whole new world and see how you feel. You’re dismissed. Get some rest. Make nice with the old man.”

I get up and leave his office. Make nice…. How do I do that when he doesn’t trust me anymore?

I get a ride home from Fitz who congratulated me on completing the mission.

“So what was he like?”

“He doesn’t like me very much,” I chuckle.

“Why not? What did you do?” he asks in an accusing tone.

“Me?!”

“He’s the perfect man, what could he have done?”

I roll my eyes but don’t answer. We arrive at my apartment and I thank Fitz for the ride back.

Unlocking my door I go straight to the bathroom for a bath. I run the water to the perfect temperature and add a bath bomb that turns the water a glittery lilac scented with lavender. I also light a candle that crackles like a fireplace that emits a subtle smokey French vanilla. A girl’s gotta treat herself. After a good long soak I get out and decide to rest up not wanting to do anything for the rest of the day.

I wake from my nap to the ringing of my phone. Reaching over to my bedside table I read the screen which has nothing but the number 1212. Well, that can’t be good.

“This is L/N,” I say.

“I need you to find the star. Keep your guard up.”

Shit, I think as I jump out of bed and get dressed in something inconspicuous. Black trousers, leather combat boots, a Kevlar vest under a back hoodie, two pistols on my belt and a knife tucked in each boot. I pick up a grey Von Dutch trucker hat on my way out.

Walking is the safest option so I navigate toward Steve Rogers’ DC apartment that he was relocated to after the New York Invasion as he decided to become a full time SHIELD agent.

I arrive outside his apartment and see Sharon on her way out.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Mission. Waiting for the Captain,” I say. I look at her scrubs. “How you liking the infectious disease ward?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Well it’s just a uniform. I guess it’s better than people shooting armour piercing bullets at me.”

“I’ll see you ‘round, Kate,” I wave, using her alias.

I track Steve’s whereabouts on my phone and see that he’s at a counselling centre for veterans. Fair enough, it’s good to admit you need help.

What do you want me to do here, Fury? I wonder to myself. I decide to do a perimeter check for any bugs, wire taps or double agents.

I reach an alleyway and after peering into it I hear the scraping of a manhole against the ground. I reach for my gun and keep it to the side as I slowly approach it.

I hear a grunt and raise the gun.

“Agent,” I immediately recognize the voice as Fury’s. “Stand down.”

“Shit, Fury.” I holster the gun and help him out of the manhole. “What happened, who did this?”

“Not safe,” he says in pain.

“W-where do we go? Rogers isn’t inside.” I inspect his wounds. “Looks like you have multiple fractures on your left arm and abdominal bruising-“

“Car ambush,” he utters as he approaches the fire escape. “Stay out here, keep a look out.” He pushes a phone into my hand, I don’t recognize it as his day to day. “Anything happens, secure line 0405. I have to… get to Rogers. Do not engage unless enemies fire first.”

“Fury-“

“That’s an order.”

I put the phone into my back pocket and stay behind as he climbs up and through the Captain’s Window.

The sky is starting to darken so I make my way through the perimeter again. Sharon returns and shortly after that, Rogers arrives, weary but alert. Just as a soldier would.

I hear some 40s music coming from the walls of the Captain’s apartment. I suppose he heard it too and got suspicious because he exits his apartment building to climb up the very same fire escape that Fury did.

My eyes follow him up and survey the roof of the building for any suspicious activity.

Suddenly three shots are fired right into one of the apartment building’s walls.

“Fuck!” I whisper, looking for the source.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs,” I hear one of my comms come through. It’s Sharon’s voice.

“Do we have a 20 on the shooter?” a dispatcher responds.

Before I know it, Captain Rogers is jumping out of his window and into the building the shots came from.

“Captain Rogers is in pursuit,” Agent Carter says.

I follow the Captain as he runs through a building following the shooter while he runs on the roof. They don’t fight but Rogers manages to throw the shield at him and does what some would say impossible as he catches it and throws it back just as hard. I stop where I am and just observe which is what Fury wanted me here for. The shooter jumps from the building and it looks like he catches himself using his… metal… arm. I look up and see Rogers standing at the edge of the rooftop, looking back down the shooter is out of sight.

“Transporting Foxtrot to BridgePoint Hospital Capitol Hill,” the dispatcher says from my comms. After sweeping the place one more time for any sign of the shooter and coming up empty I decide to take a cab to the hospital.

I put out an arm but it’s not a cab that stops in front of me.

“Get in, L/N.”

“Hill?” I get into the passenger’s seat and she starts to drive. “You’re supposed to be –“

“Fury called.”

“He was shot.”

“I know. Ballistics will tell us more at the hospital.”

“He’s gonna be okay,” I say but it’s more for my comfort than hers.

We arrive at the hospital and Maria takes a phone call while I find his room number, viewing the operation through the glass. Rogers is already there.

“Is he gonna make it?” I ask the Captain.

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me about the shooter.”

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.”

“Ballistics?” I ask, knowing he can hear Hill’s conversation outside.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable,” he answers and looks at me.

Hill enters.

“Soviet-made,” I add as I put the picture together in my head.

“How did you know?”

I don’t get to answer her as the surgeons and nurses say that Fury’s in V-tach and rush to solve the problem.

“Fuck’s sake, Fury,” I whisper. “Don’t do this.” My hands start to shake as they lose his pulse and can’t bring him back. I notice that I’m mumbling something repeatedly but I can’t realise what.

I feel Rogers leave as the team gives up.

“Time of death, 1:03am,” the doctor calls.

I watch them wheel him out as Hill goes too. Taking a deep breath, I walk outside into the hallway.

“How did you know they were soviet-made?” Rogers asks, following me.

“Do you trust me?” I ask him, turning to face him.

“No. How did you know?”

“Why are you asking me when you don’t trust me?”

“Why are you dodging the question?”

“Cap!” Rumlow calls. “They want you back at SHIELD.”

“Give me a minute.”

“They want you now.”

“Okay,” he replies irritated.

“You’re not gonna ask me what Nick was doing in my apartment?” he asks.

“I know what he was doing there. Do you?” I raise a brow and turn on my heel, walking away.

I see Maria in the viewing room with Fury’s… body.

“I need to take him,” she says. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, alright?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not a child, Maria.”

“Do you want a ride anywhere?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“What, you’re just gonna hang around here until Rogers comes back?”

Yes that’s exactly what I was going to do. “No.”

She chuckles and walks away. I wait for all the SHIELD and STRIKE agents to clear out of the floor to go back into the waiting area. I go to the vending machine to pick up a snack and notice something that shouldn’t be there… the drive I gave Fury with SHIELD intel hidden behind three packets of bubble gum. Frowning I buy out the stack until the drive also falls to the dispenser. I take a seat, waiting for Rogers.

I don’t realise when I fell asleep until someone shakes me gently.

“I heard.”

I look up and it’s Sharon. “Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t you have an assignment debriefing to give?” I reply.

She shrugs. “That can wait. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Did you wanna know what Fury was doing at Rogers’ apartment too?” I ask, suspicious.

“Do you know?”

I nod.

“Then that’s all I need to know.”

“Fury trusts – trusted him,” I correct myself. “That means we have to.”

A beeping comes from her wrist communicator and she sighs. “I have to go. I’ll keep you in the loop about what happens at the Triskelion.”

I frown. “Why would I need to be kept in the loop?”

“Because I know you’re gonna be on the run, soon. With him. To find that shooter. Pierce won’t like that you’re after him outside of mission directives…”

“I know. You be careful, Sharon.”

She smiles stiffly and I know it’s because she’s worried about me. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were being careless and rash.”

“But you know better.”

She chuckles softly and turns to leave. I get up walk around to stretch my legs. Where the fuck is Rogers?

An hour passes and I’m back where I started but I see the man of the hour stop in front of the vending machine. I pop a strip of gum in my mouth and walk up behind him, blowing a bubble.

His face sharpens and he sighs then pulls me by the arm and takes us into a room.

“Where is it?”

“Safe.”

“Do better.”

“Fury trusted me. I’m on your side if he trusts you.”

“He doesn’t trust anyone. That’s the problem. That’s why he’s dead,” he says harshly.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Rogers sighs and pulls away. “What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I bet you knew Fury hired the Pirates didn’t you?” he accuses.

No, no I didn’t. Stunned, I blink at the news. “Made sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

“How did you know it was Soviet-made?” he repeats his earlier question, losing patience.

“I know who killed Fury,” I say. “The metal arm… I knew as soon as I saw it. 2009, Natasha had a mission in Odessa. Someone shot out her tires and killed the engineer she was protecting by shooting right through her. Soviet slug, no rifling. Metal arm. The intelligence community call him The Winter Soldier. I’ve heard him as the Asset. That’s who killed Fury.”

“How do we find him?”

“He’s been credited with two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years, Rogers. You don’t go after him. I’ve tried.”

He looks up at that, as if surprised. But he doesn’t know half the shit I’ve been through while working for SHIELD.

“So he’s a shadow.”

“Was.” I pull the drive out of my pocket and hold it up to him.

“Let’s find the Asset, then.”

 💖

Thank you for reading! I’ll update once I’ve finished Chapter 4 but I am busy this weekend!

Chapter 3

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

yikes, summer has come and life is hectic! Still trying to make this happen but 1.17 is going to get skipped. I couldn’t resist 1.16 though, poor Kurt getting gassed just after having his jugular sliced open...

1.16

Weller was already spewing white foam by the time Jane made it back with the antidote; her heart pounding with a potent mixture of fear and adrenaline, along with a drop of deadly nerve agent. Knowing that every second counted, she immediately jabbed the needle into his thigh and injected him with the life-saving drug.

Yet even after she'd administered the atropine, Kurt was still doubled over and clearly struggling. And all Jane could do was wrap her arms around him and watch him continue to gag and spit up a froth of fluids, all the while praying that she hadn't been too late. But she also wasn't feeling all that great herself, even though Weller had given her his shot almost immediately. And he'd been exposed for at least twice as long, because he was a stubborn, self-sacrificing idiot.

Jane forced herself to take slower breaths, even though anxiety was starting to crawl up her spine. Kurt was shaking now, his body tremoring in her arms and she felt completely helpless. She'd done all that she could by getting him the drug but kept worrying that it had taken too long and that Weller would suffer permanent damage because he'd given her his dose. It had been such a stupid thing to do, with his own life equally at risk.

She was angry at him for doing it. And yet she couldn't help loving him for it too.

Jane held him as closely as possible, one arm behind him and the other in front. Weller was now heaving and spitting out an endless stream of drool, while also blinking away tears and trying to catch his breath. Jane could feel him start to panic as his lungs kept pulling for air but apparently not getting enough for his system to catch up.

Instantly her own anxiety shot up too, realizing that Kurt was starting to really struggle for oxygen. For a second her heart hammered in her ears, making everything around her turn into a red haze of distress. But Jane pushed back on the tide, somehow anchoring herself to the knowledge that she had to stay with it enough to take care of Weller.

"Hey Kurt," she murmured against his ear.

"You need to slow your breathing down okay?"

For a moment he continued to gasp, and she could feel his chest heaving in her arms. Jane felt her own panic threaten again, as she flashed back to him nearly bleeding out just days ago. That had also been her fault, and far too close a call.

This time though, it seemed more a matter of talking him through it and less a frenzy of trying to physically hold his blood in his body. So Jane shoved aside her anxiety once more and mentally scolded herself. It wasn't the time to fall into the past and lose it. She needed to get some air into him before he passed out.

Weller was still panting, seemingly unable to get control of his lungs. But he was actually breathing okay, just too fast. What he needed was a respiratory metronome, something to help him time out his breaths.

"Here," she said, shuffling to sit next to him.

Jane kept one hand over his shoulders and used her other to grab his wrist and bring his hand up to her sternum. She remembered how much the gesture had calmed her that day she'd nearly lost herself in the past, the way it had helped her feel steadier. She could only hope it would have the same effect on Weller now.

Kurt looked a little surprised at her action but didn't resist at all. Then, when his hand was settled over her heart, Jane started to take long, deliberate breaths.

"Feel that?" she asked.

Weller nodded.

"In and out, with me okay?"

Again, Kurt nodded and she could feel him start to try and breathe with her. It took a few cycles to find an even tempo that he could easily maintain but once Jane found the right pace, Weller managed to match her rhythm and stop gasping.

He was still shaky and sweaty but at least there was less panic in his eyes as he regained control of his breathing. Jane could feel her own heart rate settle as well, when it became clear that Weller was becoming steadier by the moment.

By the time she heard the ambulance sirens approaching, he wasn't shaking at all anymore. Yet Jane couldn't stop holding him to her tightly, even as the paramedics came running up to assess them both.

"Ma'am, you were exposed to a nerve agent. We're going to have to check you out too."

She felt irrationally frantic, unable to let go. Until a familiar hand slipped over her own, and raised it off his chest.

"'I'm okay," Weller wheezed. "Go."

So she finally unwrapped herself from her protective position around him, but couldn't help looking back once or twice anyways. It helped to see that the EMT was giving Kurt oxygen, and his colour was improving already.

Still, Jane was impatient as her own EMT looked her over and assessed her vitals. Immediately after she was cleared, she headed back to check on Weller. Even though she knew it wasn't rational, she just needed to double check that he was okay.

Kurt was sitting on the back of the open ambulance, still breathing from the oxygen tank but otherwise looking fine. Jane exhaled a lungful of worry before approaching him and felt her entire body relax once she realized he really was okay.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied, looking up at her.

"I'm sore from where you stabbed me."

If that was his biggest complaint, then they'd both gotten off easy.

"Sorry, next time I'll just let your internal organs melt," she deadpanned, surprised at how easily the jibe rolled off her tongue.

Weller grinned and the last of her fear finally faded away. They'd survived yet another close call. Now she had to get ready for the next.

###

She fell from the sky, after a rain of glass.

Even as it was happening, Weller couldn't quite believe his eyes. All of his focus flew off of the suspect in front of him and glued itself to the black clad figure that had just dropped from the floor above; desperate to make sure that she was okay.

Of course Jane was fine. By the time he'd fully registered what had happened, she'd already taken the impact of the jump by rolling out of it gracefully and disarmed the suspect as well. So all Kurt could do was tell his heart to stop hammering and arrest the other guy, now that she was safe and on the ground.

Yet even after both suspects were in cuffs, he couldn't stop thinking about it; the shards of glass, her falling body.

Was it wrong that he was so turned on?

Weller told himself to settle down and tried to put away the feelings surging within him. Yet a heady mix of adoration and adrenaline still surged through him as he watched Jane efficiently secure her suspect, then stand up and look around.

Their eyes met instantly, mainly because he hadn't stopped staring at her since she'd jumped. And it wasn't even the first time that day she'd nearly given him a heart attack by resolving a deadly situation in her own drastic manner. Disarming the General and his dead-man's switch had already been dangerous enough. But leaping from the second floor to stop a man toting sarin gas was still an incredible encore.

She was constantly doing things he couldn't imagine anyone else even considering, much less attempting. Which drove him crazy in every way.

Part of him wanted to exchange his latent fear for anger and yell at her for taking chances with her own safety. But mostly he was just in complete awe of her, and wanted to hold on as tightly as he could so he didn't lose her to some future danger.

Weller forced himself to stay in position, only because he didn't trust himself yet. His instinct to holler at her hadn't abated at all, nor had his desire to wrap his arms around her. So it was best to hold back, until he was more in control of his emotions.

But the more he stared at her, the weaker he seemed to become.

If only…

No, shut down that thought, Weller told himself sternly.

He was doing his best to give the second go around with Allie a better effort than the first. It wasn't fair to her if he let his head go where it wanted to.

Yet it was impossible to not compare the difference in the way they made him feel.

It had been far too obvious to him that morning when they'd all been in the same room together. Of course it had been at an inopportune moment, just after giving Jane something extremely sentimental. And his heart had felt so full at the giving… and so tentative at the receiving, even though it was nice that Allie brought him breakfast. He wondered if his "this is a nice surprise" had sounded as forced as he heard it in his head.

Kurt only realized that he'd been caught staring when he was knocked out of his memory with a slightly disgruntled "what?"

When his brain finally caught up with the situation, he found that Jane was giving him a look somewhere between annoyed and concerned. And all he could do was shake his head and tell her a half truth.

"I can't stop thinking about you jumping," he said.

Jane shrugged, completely nonchalantly of course.

"It was the only way," she replied.

"It was too risky," he argued, even though she'd already proven him wrong.

"No riskier than giving me your antidote," she retorted.

Weller frowned. He hadn't seen that coming. That situation was long over already; and of course he'd given her his dose, it hadn't even been a question. He hadn't even realized she was annoyed with him for doing it.

"That's not what we're talking about," he said, trying to sound stern.

"It is now."

She was infuriating and invigorating and everything in between. Even though they were arguing he could barely hold back a smile.

Jane looked genuinely pissed off, which was a surprise to him. The sarin incident had been barely a risk, he'd known that both Reade and Zapata were nearby with their doses.

"That was my choice," he said. "I knew you'd figure something out."

"Yeah well, I'm still mad about it."

This time he let his grin slip through, wondering how his attempt to reprimand her for doing something so dangerous had ended up in her telling him off for something far less perilous.

Normally Weller would be irritated by being questioned about his actions, and doubly annoyed about being worried after. He was in charge of the team, it was his job to worry about them, not the other way around.

But with Jane, well, he liked it. Even though it was so unfamiliar, there was little doubt. He got a little tingle down his spine every time she showed concern for him.

Since when did he ever feel that way about anyone?

Unbidden, Weller's mind flashed back to that morning in the locker room and suddenly, completely incongruously, he wanted to see her wear the necklace.

Stop it, he told himself.

You're in the middle of a crime scene. And you have a date with Allie.

He managed to swallow back his surge of desire and forced his gaze away from Jane, in an attempt to refocus his attention. But even after he walked away to secure the rest of the scene, his eyes kept stealing their way in her direction. And each time he saw her leap onto the scene out of nowhere, much in the same way she'd fallen into his heart.

[hayjeon]

You Set My Heart on Fire 01 [M] ft. Namjoon

→ fireman!namjoon and paramedic!y/n au (warning: drunken sex, oral, etc.)  → 10k words, part 1 | part 2 | fin. → As a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.  

Hi! this is a reupload, and i figured i’d vamp up the title and the header in the meantime! Thank you to the user who managed to save this just in time, after I accidentally deleted it T___T I am forever indebted to you, and I lost your username, so if you see this pls dm me i’d love to write something for as a token of my appreciation!

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair as the lawyer continues to lay out the demands.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you huff, glaring at the idiot gangster who’s at the other side of the room. He cringes a bit at your glare, nursing an ice pack against his bruised cheek.

“I swear, he slapped my ass! I was just retaliating!” You cry, frustrated. Your surgery chief huffs angrily at your behavior and you settle back, clenching your fists on top of the table.

The lawyer snarks back, “You also managed to cause damage to the victim’s body in the process. He’s demanding full reparations. Let’s see,” she muses, flipping through the documents spread out on the table between the both of you. “A broken nose, bruised cheekbone, fractured wrist from when he fell, and muscle strains on his lower back, and psychological damage from framing him for sexual harassment and from the physical assault. In total, it would amount the hospital to about $50,000 to cover the hospital costs and the time he would need to talk off from his job, and the continued physical and mental therapy sessions to follow for around 6 months.” She closes the file with a grin. “So, Dr. Y/N, what’s it gonna be?”

“Chief, I can’t believe we’re just losing to him!” You cry, following after Dr. Kim, who’s seething as he storms down the hall outside of the conference room.

He screeches to a halt, turning around with a glare. “Well, what do you wanna do?!” He throws his hands up in defeat, “You want to cause a whole legal issue? You know that there’s really nothing else we can do in this situation! It’s your word against his, and the video cameras only show proof of him passing by you, and then you throwing a big ass punch in his fucking face!” He cries, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples.

“Look, Dr. Y/N, you did the right thing. The fucker deserved the punch, and you threw a good one. But,” he continues, placing his glasses back on his nose and patting your shoulder, “giving him the money is the best thing we could do for both the hospital and for you. So, just, take this next month off, get the community service done and then come right back. Alright? I’ll even let you head all the interesting cases that come into the operating room.”

He sighs, and walks off, leaving you behind. You roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair, fist clenching on the brochure of community service options for doctors.

The fucker had brought his girlfriend in during your shift at the emergency room, and while she was getting stitches for a cut that she got from a building collapse, in the craze of the emergency room, he was going around touching asses. You’d heard the nurses complaining about it, about how it was just a swipe of the hand that seemed like an accident, but multiple had the same experience from the same seedy-looking jerk.

When it was your turn to go up to the patient and explain that her stitches were done and she was alright to go home, he’d come up next to you and his knuckles grazed the skin of your ass. Sick of everything, you’d pushed him back and socked him straight in the face.

Later, from the cameras though, there was no visible evidence of him touching anyone, and it was your word against the clear security camera shot of you socking him right in his big ass nose. So you open the brochure and plop down at your desk to see what options there were. There were the general ones, where you could serve and clean up at a park or volunteer at a soup kitchen, and then there was a separate page for doctors who probably just wanted to maintain their skills in the field they volunteered in. You pick up the phone.

“What?” Yugyeom asks, “Chief seriously ended up giving you a probation period for community service?” He sighs over the phone, and you roll your eyes too.

“Yeah,” you huff, “which one should I do? I should sign up today, since it might take a bit to get approved and might as well start early so I can go back to work as soon as I get all my hours finished.”

He muses, probably scanning the picture you sent him. “Hm...well look, you can go travel to Africa or Cambodia or something. It’ll be like that one drama with Song Joong Ki in it. Maybe you’ll meet a hot military general. What do you think?”

“Too far,” you complain, taking a red pen and drawing a line through it. “Also, they don’t cover air fare or housing. Maybe something more local.”

“Okay, well then what about teaching kids in elementary and high school about general first aid and health? You can maybe meet a single teacher who’s good with kids. That’s kind of hot.”

“I fucking hate kids, Yug, you know that,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and crossing out that option. “Also, why are you trying to get me laid, you should be worried about your own empty gay love life.”

He huffs, “Well, bitch, if you’re gonna be so picky why’d you call. Just take the second to last one, the medic for the fire department! It’ll be fun, I know a friend who works in the one that’s close by to the hospital, so you can just commute from there and if you guys ever end up coming to the emergency room, you’ll see all of us there too.”

You hum, scanning through the brief description: Medic for the Seoul Fire Department. In-department housing and meals provided during both on-call and working hours. Needs basic EMT and paramedic skills. Must be able to handle emergency situations calmly and communicate with safety officers.

You purse your lips, scoffing a little bit at the emergency part. “Well, if there’s something I can handle, it’s emergency.”

He laughs, “What a downgrade...from a cardio surgeon to a paramedic. Jeez, you better get out of this one quick. Just make sure not to punch anyone during duty, and you’ll be fine.”

“Shut up bitch. Let’s go clubbing tonight. I need to let some of this stress out before I get trapped in there.”

The night was lively and the drinks kept flowing. Jennie and Jackson from Health and Nutrition, Sana from pediatrics, Yugyeom and Seulgi from Cardio, and even the oh-so-popular Jaebom and Jinyoung from general surgery came out.

You were dressed in the hottest dress you could find in Seulgi’s closet, and according to Yugyeom’s apparently “gay and therefore superior opinion,” your outfit and hair and makeup were basically a “straight guy’s ticket to bonertown.”

“Legit, how could you be so gay but also talk like such a frat boy at the same time?” You sneer, taking another shot of vodka.

He sucks on his lemon, and then flashes a smile. “It’s the best combination. I pull.”

He cocks his chin to a direction behind you. “Also seems like I was right, because you’ve been pulling too. That guys been staring ever since we got to the bar.”

You turn, blurry vision settling on a handsome, leather jacket clad guy that’s sitting with two other guys at the table. He’s looking now, eyebrow cocked and lip between his teeth. He’s not usually your type, but you feel it. This, was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

You get up, patting Yugyeom on the arm. “Thanks, I’ll take myself home tonight.” He whistles behind you as you try your best to make your way to the guy, but suddenly your drunk ass hobbles on your Forever 21 heels, and you topple to the side. All of a sudden, there’s a strong hand gripping your upper arm and pulling you up, and an arm wrapping around your waist to offer support.

“Oh shit, miss, you alright?” A low voice sounds right next to your ear. You look up, expecting to see the leather jacket guy, but this...this was much better. This guy was dressed in only a black t-shirt tucked into blue jeans. But his simple ensemble didn’t matter. He was tall, way taller than you in your tallest heels, and he smelled so damn good. His hair was slicked up and his skin absolutely golden. He wasn’t biting his lip or doing anything to try and hook up with you, but in seconds, you were sopping wet.

No, this was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

“I will be,” you answer him, straightening up and pressing yourself up against him. “when you buy me a drink.”

He seems to understand what you’re getting at. He chuckles a bit, eyebrow quirking and you think it’s the hottest shit you’ve ever seen since waterproof scrubs. He helps you straighten up. “I think you’ve had enough drinks already. Can I get you some water?”

“Yes,” you breathe, but not letting go. “But only if you stay with me until I’m finished.”

He smiles, and keeps his hand on your waist as he guides you the bar and orders a cup of water. You sit on the single empty bar stool, and he stands, and you revel in the fact that even on this tall bar stool, he still stands taller than you.

You sip the water, and he leans an elbow on the bar, inches from you.

“So, what brings you stumbling into this bar?”

“I’m here with some coworkers,” you say, and he leans in closer to hear you over the loud music.

“Won’t they be looking for you?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” You pout, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Hell no, I’m just worried.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead.” You fire back, and he laughs again.

“You gonna keep laughing at my jokes or are you gonna ask me to come home with you?” You raise your brows as you sip your water, looking at him over the rim. His expression darkens, but the corner of his mouth sexily turns up.

“I might laugh a little more just to tease, I suppose. Helps build up for later.” He leans up, hand on the bar, but steps a bit closer to you this time. If you leaned up a bit, you’d kiss. He chuckles again, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Shut up and kiss me already.”

He smiles and leans down, other hand cradling your waist as you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling harshly when he slides his tongue into your mouth as soon as you open up for him.

He’s a good kisser. He knows how to move his lips, knows when to pull back to leave you wanting for more, and does that thing where he stops kissing to just peck wetly at your lips before sinking in for more. Hook, line, and sinker. You’re done. “Let’s get out of here, please,” you whimper against his lips, and he smiles, straightening up.

“As you wish. Oh, also what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you shout over the music. “What about you?”

“You can call me Joon.” He smirks.

The ride to his apartment is blurry, because all you remember is a lot of giggling and trying not to moan at how his hand is so big around your thigh that you have you physically restrain yourself from jumping him on the highway right there. The tires screech as he parks and you both laugh as you stumble into the elevator, giving the security guards watching the cameras a show when you straight up make out with him in the corner of the elevator, his hand up your dress and your hand up his shirt.

He pushes you against his closed door, dropping his keys and jacket on the ground as he undoes the zipper on your dress. You tug at his shirt, “Off,” you whine, and he smiles, stepping back to whip his shirt off with one hand behind his neck.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” you whimper, and he kisses you breathless. “You’ve been saying that all night. Creative, much?”

“Fuck off, I don’t do hook ups much and I’m just telling the truth,” you say, as he gathers you in his arms and literally picks you up and heads to his bedroom. His hands squeeze your ass as he makes his way over, and you catch a glimpse of a neat, tidy living room. His bedroom is clean too, especially for a bachelor. Navy blue sheets, sleek, black furniture, expensive looking place. He was literally so fucking hot.

He drops you on the bed and immediately drapes over you, his jeans rubbing against your soaked panties. He slides his splayed palms up from your waist up to your breasts, mouth following the motion as he laves his tongue over your nipple, palm gently cupping the weight of your breasts in the grip between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. You preen at the sensation, back arching off the bed. “Pants off,” you pant, squirming underneath the warmth of his hands and mouth.

“So bossy,” he comments, smirking as he leans up on his knees to undo his belt. “I dig that.”

You lay back, taking the time to wiggle out of your soaked panties. You thank the gods you chose to wear your new set of lace undies because the rest of your drawer was basically an ocean of white granny panties. He finally drapes back over you, hand gripping your thigh to open you up as he mouths at your neck.

You retaliate by reaching down and gripping his cock, hand squeezing at his base. You can’t really see it because your face is nestled in his shoulder, but you can feel how hard and big he is. He groans at the sensation, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending tingles down your spine and your core clenching around nothing.

He props himself up as he looks down at you and slides a finger between your folds. Your yelp dissolves into a drawn out moan. “Oh my god,” you pant, as he slides the flat of two fingers over your bundle of nerves, “please don’t stop that.” You also work your fist over his cock, mouth blubbering nonsense into his neck. He moves the fingers down into your pussy, sliding in with practically no resistance and slowly drawing them in and out your wetness. You don’t really have much time to be embarrassed by the wetness you can hear, because Joon closes his eyes and bites at the soft skin at the top of your breast.

“Shit,” he grits, and he looks down to see the way your wetness glistens on his fingers, “I don’t think I can wait. Are you good?”

You nod eagerly, and you let go of him as he gives you a hard kiss on the mouth and slides a condom on while still fingering you. Its probably not porn-worthy whatever sounds you’re making, but it seems to do the trick because he kisses you even harder and then flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting in his lap. He cradles your waist and descends on your breasts again, tongue circling your sensitive nubs as you sink down on him inch by inch.

When you bottom out, you clench around him. He’s so long and thick, and it’s been a while since your last hook up. It borders on soreness, but the sensation of him moaning with your nipple in between his lips is enough of a distraction for you to work up the nerve to start moving.

It’s embarrassing how turned on right now you are, but Joon seems to be at the same level of deliriousness because he doesn’t stop touching you. From gripping your thighs, to groping your ass, sliding his hands from your waist up to your ribs, tangling in your hair, gently curling around your neck and tightening slightly, he’s literally everywhere.

“Fuck,” you cry out when one of his hands are around your neck, squeezing lightly. You slow down, grinding instead of bouncing, and the new rhythm puts your clit in that perfect position to get stimulated by his pelvis, and his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you that you find yourself hurtling over the edge much faster than you’d imagined.

He mouths at your cheek and ear, hand still around your neck when you cum, and suddenly he grips your thigh and presses you down against his pillows as he kneels in front of you and begins fucking you hard. The bed knocks against the wall, but you can’t care because the new position has your orgasm prolonged to a point that you’ve never felt before and your mouth just stays open in a mouthless cry against his chest as he tenses and finishes into the condom, mouth panting hoarse compliments into your ear. “Holy shit, your pussy feels so good. So tight, fuck.”

He pulls out and rolls over so he’s not crushing you, and you let out a final breath. “Wow,” you say, chest heaving as he ties the condom and throws it away. He props his head up on an elbow, grinning at you. “That good?” He says cockily, and you turn to lightly punch his chest.

“Don’t get too cocky. It was just one orgasm.”

“But also seems like the best you’ve ever had.” He adds. You roll your eyes and retort, “Well, that’s what you think--,” but your laugh dissolves into a moan again when he reaches over and pulls you underneath him to press a long, wet kiss to your mouth.

“Shut up,” he whispers between kisses, "and kiss me back already.” You smile as he kisses you, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, and scratching lightly at his shoulder blades. He growls, and moves to your neck. You sigh as he draws more open-mouthed kisses down your neck and torso, and again when a big hand splays over your thigh to hook it over his shoulder. He presses a peck against your folds and looks up at you, and you mewl as he draws the flat of his tongue thickly through your pussy all the way up. You’re a goner.

“I’m gonna make sure you never forget my name.”

The walk of shame isn’t so bad when you basically have no time to waste as you gather your things and glance once back at Joon who’s still sleeping before running down to his lobby. You don’t really care for the disapproving looks you get, as you rush to get into your uber, and immediately thank god that this particular driver offers you a tiny complimentary water bottle. You chug it down, and try not to throw up.

You literally hurtle out of the car when he gets to your place, making a mental note to tip him heftily, seeing the way he booked it when you asked him to hurry a little. You step into a hot shower and don’t even have time to pick up the dirty clothes off the floor as you quickly dress in a white shirt and navy skirt and run out of your apartment to the bus stop.

Thankfully, you make it on time to your interview, and even though the captain gives a small disapproving look to your wet hair tips, he gives you a huge,  bright smile when you tell him you’re a cardio surgeon “taking a break.” When you told him that you used to work as a paramedic before medical school a few years ago, he basically hired you on the spot, babbling on about how much he loves people with more experience.

“So, miss Y/N, what are your interests, your hobbies?” Hoseok trails like a little puppy after you as you walk down the hall from the Fire Captain’s office to your team’s multipurpose room. You frown at him. “Eh,” you brush him off, “not much.”

He smiles, pushing his hair back from his face and trying to stand up tall, “Well, doctor, I love lifting weights and saving damsels in distress. What are you doing later, say, around 5?” You turn on your heel, and he bumps into you, scuttling backwards at the glare you have on your face.

“Look, honey,” you sneer, stepping towards him with a scowl, “You’re cute, but I’m hungover.” you say, scanning him up and down, “And I’m only here for a month and I swear if I have to spend the entire 30 days having you chase me down like a little pet, then I’m probably going to just jump off a building. Okay? So do me a favor, and stop asking me out.”

He gawks at you, and then recovers. “Wait...you’re only here for a month?”

Rolling your eyes, you resume walking towards the wait room. He wasn’t going to stop. “Yes, I’m here just to serve a short community service sentence.”

He hums, following your footsteps again, grinning. “Okay, fine. I won’t try to ask you out. I’ll just keep replaying the part where you said I’m cute over and over again in my head.” He winks at you lightheartedly.

“Here, let me introduce you to the guys.” He walks a bit faster than you as you approach the room, and creaks the door open and lets you in.

As soon as the door swings open, your eyes grow wide as you take in the sight in front of you. In the room, theres a half naked guy digging through the refrigerator, his firefighter’s outfit hanging around his hips. A pair of muscular large ones are wrestling in the corner, also only decked in sweatpants low on their hips. One lounges on the couch in a pair of glasses and a plain white t-shirt and navy uniform pants and boots, while a similarly dressed shorter one is asleep. A tall one is in the corner playing with a tiny puppy. All six of them swivel their heads towards you when you enter.

You wave awkwardly and take a step back to leave when Hoseok bounds in after you and throws an arm around your shoulder, announcing proudly, “Hey guys, this is the new medic hire! Dr. L/N!”  

The one closest to you gives you a smile, taking off his glasses and setting his book aside to reach out a hand. “Hey, I’m Seokjin, captain. Nice to meet you doctor!” He smiles and you make a note of how hot he looks in glasses and how broad his shoulders were.

“You can just call me by my first name, y/n,” you shake his hand, “Likewise.”

Another one that was digging through the fridge approaches you with a piece of gummy candy hanging from his lips. His face is sharp, but he breaks out in a huge smile that lights up his face. “Taehyung! Hi y/n, welcome to Unit 55!”

You shake his hand too, “Thanks. Do you have any firewomen?” You glance around as the pair who were wrestling stop their antics and approach you shyly. The taller one shrugs, his muscles rippling as he does and you make a huge effort not to stare. “No, honestly it’s really hard to find a firewoman these days and they probably don’t like spending time with all guys like us either.”

Taehyung leans over. “That’s Jungkook by the way.”

His partner punches Jungkook’s bicep and turns to you with a show-stopping smile. Oh. The girls would swoon for both of them, you note. They’ll have no problem finding firewomen who want to spend all day with them. “I’m Jimin. And even though this idiot makes us sound like a bunch of goons, it’s just rough being around 7 guys all the time for girls probably. But we’ll do our best to help you get comfortable around here. We’re really fun, I promise!”

You frown, glancing around the room and counting the people you’d met already. Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin. Which left just the one still asleep somehow through all the commotion on the couch. Seeing your eyes trail over him, Seokjin looks at you over the rims of his glasses, pointing at the sleeping figure with his chin. “Oh, yeah. That’s Yoongi. Good thing he’s not awake cause he’s really grouchy, but he’s also a really good driver so we keep him. You should meet him later when he’s done with his nap.”

You laugh a little, and nod. “And the 7th?”

Jungkook throws on a shirt as he talks. “Namjoon, our unit Battalion Chief. He’s not here right now, but you’ll be able to meet him later. He basically runs this whole thing.”

“Oh I see,” you muse, and give a tight-lipped smile. “Well, maybe I’ll start moving my things in soon. Can you show me my room?”

“Bitch,” Yugyeom sneers as he watches open-mouthed as the guys help unload your car at the station. “You didn’t tell me that all your co-workers were single, hot guys that walked around shirtless all the time.” He frowns at you, ignoring your eye roll, and then switching 180 degrees and laughing and smiling when Taehyung walks by with all your heavy trunks in his arms.

“Hahahaha, Y/N, you’re so funny,” he fakes, and then turns to you with a glint in his eye. “Maybe I should’ve punched that idiot in the face too and I would’ve been here instead.” He hisses, gawking at the way Jungkook and Jimin both easily haul your mattress up the steps. Shirtless, by the way. Again.

You sigh. “It’s only for a month. And honestly, you’re such a fake ass little bitch. You were the one trying to find me a man, and now that I’m surrounded by them, you resent me for it?” you huff. “Oh, Jin, those drawers just go in the closet, thank you.”

“No problem Y/N,” Seokjin grins, pushing up his glasses as he walks past you two easily, holding up the chest of drawers that took both you and Yugyeom an entire twenty minutes to shove in the moving truck. You give him a smile in return and turn back to Yug with a snort. “Wipe your drool.” You laugh, and he closes his mouth with a clack.

“I’ll literally visit you, like all the time, Y/N,” he whispers.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh also,” he turns to you inquisitively. “What happened last weekend? Did you end up going home with that hot guy?”

You pull him closer. “Keep your voice down,” you hiss. “Yes. I fucked him.”

He whistles lowly. “He wasn’t that good?”

Sighing, you check to make sure all the other boys aren’t in the vicinity. “No, that’s the problem. He was too good. I can’t stop thinking about it. Haven’t had a proper orgasm since.”

He looks unsurprised. “Well, when’s the last time you got laid. College?”

“Shut up, asshole,” you frown, “It’s only been like...a few months.”

“Okay, so I guess we’re calling last year’s during our we’re-not-interns-anymore-party a ‘couple months’ ago. It was like 13 months ago.” He points out, and you glare at him.

“Fine,” you snap, “okay? It’s been, like a year. But he was really good, no matter how deprived I’ve been.”

Yugyeom still looks unimpressed, so you pull his sleeve down to whisper in his ear. “I had five orgasms that night.”

He straightens up, turning to you with wide eyes, “FIVE ORGASMS?”

You wince as chief walks by with a stern look, and you pinch Yugyeom in the side as you laugh, “Oh hahahaha, Yugyeom, you’re such a hilarious guy. Why would a patient even talk about those kinds of horrible things in the waiting room?!”

That seems to help as the chief’s expression lightens and he smiles as he grabs a cup of coffee and ascends the stairs again. You drop the smile as soon as the chief is out of earshot and punch Yugyeom hard.

“Little bitch,” you hiss, “are you trying to get me fired?”

He rubs the spot that you punched. “Ow, and no. I’m just shocked. Did you even get his number or something?”

You sigh, watching as the boys come back down to retrieve a couple more things. “No,” you say forlornly, “I literally had to run out for my interview. I only know his name, and I’m not even sure if its right.”

Yugyeom sighs, watching Jungkook and Jimin banter as they come back down.

“Well, at least you have guys like them to keep you company. Did you bring your vibrator along?”

You pinch him again.

With the help of the boys, moving in wasn’t a problem. Surprisingly, the bunk rooms aren’t at all what you’d expected. It was less of a college dorm room style, and more of like a communal housing unit. Apparently, the Seoul station had updated their housing recently, so the inside looked like a newly furnished office hotel, basically.

Jimin was nice enough to move into Hoseok’s room so that you could have the corner room all to yourself, with a private bath attached. It was adequately sized, but there was a nice closet and twin size bed attached, which was an upgrade from the dinky communal on-call room bunk beds that the hospital provided for the residents to sleep in.

There wasn’t even much to unpack, besides a few articles of clothing, a desk and computer for you to do some catching up on hospital paperwork, a mattress so you could sleep on without knots in your back, and your toiletries. You had a uniform anyway, and you were pretty low maintenance. The hospital shifts didn’t really give much space or time to pay attention to your fashion sense or your looks, and it wasn’t going to change now, either.

You make your way downstairs after finishing, with the stairs of course. The boys had kept trying to convince you that you won’t die if you try the pole, but honestly you weren’t down to break your ankle, especially when you were expected to help during an emergency situation. The stairs were fine. You were only on the second floor anyway.

The boys are already eating in the large lounge, and you see that the sleepy fireman had woken up and had starting to cook.

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls, scooting his chair over to make room for you at the center of their table. “Here!”

You smile and set down your phone, taking a seat as Taehyung brings you a tray. Its pasta and steak, with a huge side salad and green beans. You gape at the cook who’s still engrossed in tasting and perfecting the sauce for the pasta.

“Yoongi hyung’s a really good cook,” Jimin says, with a mouthful of salad and steak. With that, the man in question appears behind the younger firefighter and hands him a cup of water. “Don’t eat and talk at the same time. It’s disgusting.” He says with a curled lip, and then gives you a nod.

“You’re the new paramedic hire right?” He asks.

You nod, “Hi, yes. I’m Y/N.” He shakes your hand, nods, and turns away. “Not much of a talker, is he?” You say, and the boys chuckle.

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, “Yoongi’s not really an extroverted type. But he’ll warm up to you, just give it time.”

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. You have to sit in your room for a couple hours though, watching boredly through the instructional training online lessons you had to complete before starting your first day. You’re close to dozing off when a soft knock sounds.

“Yes!” You sit up and turn, and Jungkook appears, smiling sweetly. “Hi, Y/N! What you doin’?”

You stick a thumb at your computer, “Training videos,” you sigh, curling your lip. “Why?”

“Oh, hyungs and I are gonna watch a movie. If you wanna come sit with us in the lounge and do your training or just watch with us, you’re welcome to!”

You pause. “Won’t it be loud? I probably won’t be able to get anything done.”

“I’m pretty sure Seokjin hyung has done basic training before. He can probably give you all the answers to those end-of-lecture quizzes.”

Now there was your incentive to go. You smile, standing up and closing your laptop. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? Let’s go.”

He guides you down to where the lounge is and all the boys chime a nice “hello” or “y/n!” when you appear in the doorway. You can see that a new episode of Game of Thrones is on. You pad over to Seokjin and he smiles when you ask him for the favor, and moves seats to the couch behind so you can sit with him and watch at the same time.

The night goes smoothly, you tapping Seokjin everytime you finish a lesson and him pausing to quickly finish the quizzes, and you joining in with the debates about the show occasionally. Yoongi brings out some snacks, and eventually Jimin brings out a blanket for you, and by the end of the episode, your training is finished and you’re sipping on soda and eating pizza.

It’s nice, you think, a lot nicer than the hospital. You were used to the competitive nature of medicine. It was always competing against the other residents or interns to get a spot that had ridiculously low acceptance rates. There was always no time to relax. This wasn’t bad at all.

But you shake your head. This was temporary. A break. No need to get attached. They’re just being hospitable. You give a tight lipped smile as the episode ends and you take your laptop and blanket with you as you stand. “Thanks, guys, for inviting me. I’m gonna turn in tonight.” you say, slowly shuffling away. “Good night!” Taehyung yells, and the other boys chime in one by one.

You set your stuff down in your room and get ready for bed. Laying in your single bed, with no one else snoring or sleep talking, and with no post-surgery fatigue to get you straight to sleep, it’s hard. You end up staring up at the ceiling of your room, sighing as you try to think of the most boring topics in the world to try and get to sleep.

“Just a few weeks, y/n.” you murmur, turning onto your side.

You’re finally dozing off when suddenly, the intercom you had no idea was located right outside your door bursts to life. “Code 904B Building Fire. Code 904B Building Fire.”

You scramble up, throwing your covers back as you stick your head out into the hallway. The lights are flashing brightly, but you can hear the sounds of the boys in each room getting ready. The first one out into the hallway is Taehyung, and he jogs up to you. “Put on your uniform, y/n,” he pants, “and meet us downstairs as soon as possible. We gotta go, and since it’s a building fire, there might be a few injuries you can help us with.”

“Okay,” you nod, as the rest of the boys begin appearing in the hallway with navy shirts on and their firemen overalls already on. They one by one disappear down the pole and you scramble to get the paramedic bodysuit on. You pull on your boots hastily and then sprint down the stairs, and see the chief addressing everyone.

“Alright, Yoongi and half of you in car 1, and the rest of you in mine. Namjoon is already in his way from his meeting, so he’ll meet us there. Let’s go!” The boys break out into jogs as they hurriedly begin packing the hoses tightly and jumping into the cars. “Chief,” you call out, “Where can I go?”

“Go with Yoongi!” He yells, and drives off, sirens wailing. You jump into the first car and immediately you’re surprised when Yoongi, usually lethargic and slow, slams on the accelerator and your own truck bolts into life. Stumbling into a seat, you ask Hoseok, “So, this is how it always happens?”

He nods solemnly, his usual playful smile gone. “24/7. We gotta stay alert.” You nod. He points to a large, bright orange utility box in the corner of the bus. “That’s your medic kit. You can look through it now if you want, we’ll be getting to the site in a few minutes.”

You nod, perching the box on the seat next to you and digging through it. It was pretty basic, syringes, bottles of lidocaine and epinephrine for stitch jobs, synthetic thread, scalpels, bandaids, alcohol, gauze, and more. You were used to working with the minimum at the emergency room. And seemed like whoever was in charge of this box had kept it neatly and pretty well-stocked. You lock the box when the truck begins to slow, and look out the window to see the commotion.

A large building has caught on fire, and already there are two other trucks unloading at the site, their firefighters already hooking up their hoses onto the fire hydrants and assembling into position to enter the building for any remaining people. The whole area smells like smoke and through it, the glow of the orange fire against the night sky is barely visible.

Immediately as the truck parks, the boys in the vehicle spring to motion. Their uniforms are already on, helmets, gloves, and oxygen tanks and all. One by one they jog out the door of the truck and do the same, unloading the hose from the side of the firetruck and linking it easily to the fire hydrant and getting ready to spray down the building.

You pull your hair back into a ponytail and look around for anyone who might be in need of help. There’s already a few survivors out around the area in the grass, and you run over to a woman laying down.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” You say as you approach her and kneel next to her. Her husband is crying. “Sir! Is she okay? What happened?”

“P-please! We were just picking up our son and then the burning piece of wood fell on her leg. No one has been able to h-help her yet! Our son is still in that building, too!”

You unlocked your box and reassured him, “Okay, sir, I need you to calm down and help me. Someone will go find your son, but we need to help your wife right now. Do you have a phone on you? Can you use the flashlight? I need to see the area.”

He does as you instruct with shaky hands, and you carefully use the scissors in the kit to cut a strip down her pants. The burn is quite bad and covers a lot of surface area, in addition to having a huge laceration down her thigh that needs to be stitched up now, in case of infection or bleeding out. You frown, she must have been in a lot of pain.

“Ma’am, can you understand me? This is going to be a bit painful, but I need to sanitize the area.”

She’s just sobbing at this point, but you can make out some words. “Please,” she sobs, “M-my s-son!”

You lean closer, “Sorry? Your son?”

She sobs and nods, “H-he’s still inside!!” She pushes your hands away from her leg, “I won’t be treated until I find him!”

You sigh, turning around to see if there are any firefighters available. You see one coming out of the building to replace his oxygen tank. You run up to him, unable to see anything but his eyes through the protective gear he was wearing.

“Hey! Hey, this woman I’m trying to treat is refusing treatment until she sees her son, and she claims he’s still inside. Please, if she doesn’t let me treat it right now, she might have to amputate her leg.” He nods, and follows you to the couple.

When they see him approaching, the woman goes hysterical. “Please!” She screams, “He’s still in there, on the second floor. I haven’t seen anyone bring him out!”

“Okay, ma’am, I’m going to go back inside for him. You need to calm down, and let this lady treat your leg, or else it could get worse. You need to stay strong for your son.”

She nods, and turns to you. You spring into action, giving the firefighter a nod as he stands. You frown, his voice sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint it.

The lady begins wailing as the adrenaline fades and the pain of her injury begins to hit. You have her husband hold her hand as you pour some alcohol on the area and she wails as the open cut is cleaned out.

Quickly, you stitch up the wound and dress the burns so that they’re manageable. She refuses to take the ambulance to the hospital until she sees her son, so you coax her into just sitting on the gurney in the ambulance and wait for her son. You try and calm down the couple as you move onto address a few more people in the vicinity with minor cuts, scrapes, and burns.

Suddenly, you hear a commotion, and you turn to the building that’s now less of a bonfire and more of a quiet smolder, and the firefighter from earlier emerges with something in his arms.

The woman you had treated earlier immediately starts wailing and crying as the firefighter jogs over to you and her and sets a boy down onto a gurney. He’s unconscious, and the firefighter whips off his helmet as he addresses you.

“He’s breathed in quite a bit of smoke, and fell unconscious when I picked him up. He needs pediatric CPR!”

“Namjoon!” Hoseok cries out.

You gawk as you watch him yell instructions at you and the rest of the firefighters you’d met, brows furrowing and eyes widening as you recognize those slanted eyes, thick lips and angled jawline that you’d run your tongue over that one fateful night. It was Joon. He was a firefighter. His name was Namjoon.

“Y/N!” He grabs you by the shoulders, “Focus!”

You immediately spring into action, running towards the boy and checking his pulse. “Do you know how to do compressions on a pediatric patient?” You breathe, and Joon nods, throwing his helmet and his tank aside and opening the buttons on his uniform jacket before he climbs atop the gurney.

As he begins compressions, you deliver some shots on his arm and search his body for any large cuts or burns. You hook him up to an oxygen mask and turn up the machine to high. “Switch!” You call out, and your hands replace Joon’s as you climb atop him and begin compressions.

“One, two, three...” You count out, as other paramedics swarm around you to prepare him to be delivered to the hospital as soon as possible.

The boy stirs, and you stop compressing, and watches as he begins coughing, from deep within, and you help remove his oxygen mask and pull him up to a sitting position as he continues coughing the smoke and ash out of his lungs. A paramedic gives him some water and after the boy finishes coughing, you help him sip some water as he recovers.

The others help usher him onto a gurney and also help his mother and father join the ambulance.

You watch as the blaring sirens fade away and sigh as the remaining firefighters douse the building in water and put out the flames. Your knees are feeling weak, your heart up in your throat, and your breath short.

Feeling a presence standing next to you, you turn and meet eyes with him. You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a once over from his ash-stained angular face to the bulky equipment and uniform lining his body. Probably from the boots he was wearing, he seemed even taller than from the club.

He gives you a cocky grin. “So, you’re a paramedic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, stopping down to collect your materials and all the wrappers of the syringes and needles you had used to treat your patients.

“Not a paramedic, a doctor. On voluntary community service.” You huff.

He stoops down too, setting his helmet aside to help with your tools. “No wonder you’re good with your hands.”

You stop, sitting on your haunches to give him a look. He does the same, matching your cold gaze with a smirk. “I think that’s very unprofessional, Mr. Joon.”

You stand, locking the paramedic box angrily and stomp away.

But he easily catches up to you, having those damned long legs of his, and follows you to your truck. It makes you angrier that he begins unloading his equipment and uniform off into the same truck you came in.

“I think, Y/N, the moment you started making out with me at that club, professionalism was kind of thrown out the window, don’t you think? You disappear that morning without a trace, and then suddenly you appear again at my workplace. Don’t you think I have the right to be a bit confused and curious?”

“Look.” You turn to him. “That was a one-night thing. I told you that I don’t do them often, and it was a mistake and I’m sorry, I won’t do that to you again. So just--” you throw your hands into the air, frustrated that he looked so goddamn good as he took off his thick outer coat and stood in front of you with just a black t-shirt and the pants of his uniform low on his hips. “--just pretend it didn’t happen. Just forget about it.”

You turn to walk away into the truck, but he stops you. “Wait! Wait wait wait, Y/N,” he turns to face you, the smirk wiped away and now brows attractively collecting in a frown, “For the record, I don’t consider that night as a mistake.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widen as you frown up at him.

He doesn’t look away. The playfulness has dropped and he’s completely serious as his voice takes a lower tone.

“Sleeping with you wasn’t a mistake for me. Don’t apologize. I’ve only been able to think about you since then, and I don’t think that you showing up here out of all the other precincts or departments is another mistake, either. I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but I want to be clear with you that my intentions are to get to know you better, and do it the right way.”

“Do what the right way?”

“Date you,” he says simply, like he was talking about the goddamn weather.

Literally, who was this guy? Your mind was completely blank. Like, who just says exactly what they’re thinking? How could he just be so...honest? What’s his game?

You blubber out the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t date co-workers. Especially here. I’m only scheduled to volunteer for several weeks.”

He seems to gain a bit of confidence. “Y/N, that sounds more like an excuse, than it does a reason.”

You huff, blowing your hair out of the way. “Nonetheless, the answer is no.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Don’t be surprised if I ask you again.”

And he does.

Every. Single. Day.

When you wake up, “Hey, Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

“No,” you’d say, roll your eyes, and spit out your toothpaste.

When you’re in the library, reading up on the latest studies. He’ll pop his head in and say, “Oh, Y/N, dinner’s ready.”

When you look up and nod, “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

He’ll nod back, and then say, “Oh by the way, will you go on a date with me?”

You’d learned to just laugh it off or ignore him.

When you’re in the dining commons. You’ll be chatting with Taehyung about something and Namjoon will walk by, hand you a mug of coffee, and walk away without a word. When you lift the coffee up to drink it after Taehyung leaves for something, you find a slip of paper on the saucer.

Will you go on a date with me?

You crumple up the paper while maintaining eye contact and drop it into the steaming cup of coffee. Then, you stand, and pour the mug out into the trash, while he watches with an amused smirk.

The only times he doesn’t ask you out is when you’re on calls.

Over the next few weeks, you notice that Namjoon has three modes: 1) His Chief mode, 2) his off-duty mode, and 3) his flirting-with-you mode. Modes 2 and 3 tended to mix, especially when he was with you.

But whenever that light on the walls of the department begin to ring and flash, indicating an emergency call, Namjoon immediately enters his chief-mode. One time, he was in the middle of taunting you with probable bad-date ideas, the lights began flashing and you had watched as he shook himself out of his off-duty mode, and immediately started barking out orders to the group and you, responding to the dispatch on his walkie-talkie. It had happened in a millisecond.

You were in the lounge with Seokjin and Jimin, watching a movie while Yoongi dozed off in one of the couches. You had slowly begun to easily sink into this lifestyle. You guys were lucky if you got at least a few hours in between calls to relax, and since the most recent call was a small issue with some old lady’s cat up in a tree, Hoseok and Taehyung had volunteered to go on their own. It was a relaxing Thursday afternoon.

Like clockwork, right as you were almost dozing off, the lights began to flash and blare as your walkie-talkies exploded to life and the dispatch officer began reading out the issue.

The boys spring to life, immediately jumping over to the pole and going downstairs to change into their uniforms. You sigh and use the stairs to run down to the garage and get into your uniform, clambering into the truck as Namjoon begins listing out orders. It was a gas leak in a chemical factory, and they wanted the firemen to take care of it. You were only following for protocol.

“It shouldn’t be too complicated. Yoongi, did you contact the engineers to shut off the power?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah, they turned off all electricity, but they can’t turn off the gas valve. It’s stuck.”

“Okay, that’ll be the first thing to take care of. Jungkook, can you take care of that?”

You watch as the firetrucks pull in and follow the men into the warehouse. It’s completely dark but they all turn on their headlights as they treck through.

Namjoon leads them into the main gas chamber where one of the tanks is steadily leaking a stream of cold, compressed air out of it. Him and Jungkook immediately head over and begin working together to tighten the valve, while Seokjin begins looking for the pipe that leads into the tank.

You watch, boredly as the men do their thing, when suddenly, Jungkook yanks a bit too hard and both him and Namjoon are thrown back.

Jungkook immediately begins yelling out, and you scramble up in horror to see that he’d been thrown back into a piece of metal that was sticking out.

“Oh my god,” you cry out as you rush to his side. “Jungkook, hold on, I got you. Can you turn on your side so I can see the wound better?”

He moves while wincing in pain, but manages to maneuver so that the wound on his back is facing you. Using a flashlight, you make sure that the metal didn’t pierce any vital organs or arteries, and reassure him that it’s okay as you begin cleaning and stitching up the wound. After you’re finished, you look up to see Seokjin run into the room, and let you all know that he’d disassembled the valve and fixed the leak.

You sigh in relief as you cut the final thread and place some gauze over the stitches. Hoseok and Jimin had returned to help, and they throw Jungkook’s arms over their shoulders as they help him walk out of the building. You begin to pack your things, when you see Namjoon lagging behind the rest of the group, clutching his arm.

You catch up to him, “Hey, are you okay?”

He winces, but nods at you to go. “I’m fine. Catch up with the rest of them. I’ll be right behind you.”

You frown as you survey his features. The boys are now out of sight and you and Namjoon are the only ones left inside the chamber. “No, you don’t look very okay. Did you get hurt?”

He finally relents, groaning in pain as you guide him to sit down on some steps and remove his jacket. You gasp as his t-shirt comes off. Jungkook had been impaled when he hit the wall as he was thrown back, but it seemed that Namjoon had been in the direct line of contact when the valve of the pipe had blown off. It had sliced through his uniform and left quite a deep cut in his rib.

“Holy shit, Namjoon, you are not okay. Let me stitch this up right now.”

He shakes his head, “Let’s get out of here, first.”

You push him back. “If you keep moving, this wound is too close to your vital organs and it might cause infection or you might bleed out. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

He shakes his head as you begin unpacking your box of materials. For the first time in your few weeks at the department, you see a dark look of shame and regret written over his face. “I was the one who asked Jungkook to help me, if I didn’t, he wouldn’t be hurt.”

You click your tongue at him as you clean the wound, apologizing as he hisses in pain at the contact of alcohol. “You know, you say a lot of stupid shit, but that’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard you say to me. Ever.”

He laughs a little at that, wincing as it puts pressure on his side. You glare at him as you examine the wound and begin numbing the surrounding skin. “You’re a great chief, you know that. I’m administering some pretty heavy painkillers. Tell me when you start getting a bit woozy.”

He just silently watches you hover over his torso, squinting as you maneuver the hook needle and stitch him up. “I think that’s the first time you ever complimented me, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, so now your chief mode is off, I guess.”

He furrows his brows. “Chief mode?”

You nod, snipping at the threads as you begin another stitch.

“You have these modes you enter on the job. One of them is when you become this intense, no-nonsense leader, telling us all what to do and what to get done.”

He smiles, “And the other mode?”

“There’s two actually,” you say, still focused on his wound, “There’s one that’s always flirting with me, and there’s a third, where I can see that you really, really care for everyone on this team. That third one is the mode you’re in.”

“Are you maybe getting turned on by that mode, Y/N?” He winks at you, and you laugh, poking him in his side and making him groan out as you finish dressing the clean wound and help him get his uniform jacket back on. “Shut up, now your flirty mode is back on too.”

You’re cleaning up the materials in your box when suddenly, the lights come back on, bright white, and as you and Namjoon are squinting to try and reassess your surroundings, the huge gate to the chamber closes with a hissing noise and a loud clang.

“Shit,” you hear Namjoon cuss, and you scramble up, running over to the door and searching for a handle, a knob, or a button, anything to get it back open. You click your walkie-talkie, waiting for the static to sound to let you know that it’s communicating, but there’s nothing.

“No use,” he winces, zipping up his jacket, “The company probably just turned the electricity on when they saw some of the trucks leaving.”

You watch in horror as the vents surrounding you begin hissing and cold air begins drafting in. “What is this?”

“It’s a containment chamber for flammable chemicals, so I assume that it stays at a cool temperature. It’s fine, some of the boys will probably realize we’re here and be back in no time.” He lays down against the steps.

“Namjoon!” You scramble over, “Do not fall asleep, do you hear me? The temperature dropping is going to make your wound even worse. You need to stay warm, stand up if you can.”

He frowns, curling into himself with a pout. “I’m cold.”

You roll your eyes. It was the painkillers kicking in. He was getting lethargic, and it could kill him. “I know, you big fat baby, but if we don’t start warming up, we might die in here. C’mon, stand up.”

He begins moving around, although you instruct him not to stress his wound, he begins rocking around on his legs to try and make some body heat. You do the same, waving your arms around and trying to generate some heat.

At one point, you lose complete sense of time, and Namjoon wakes up from the initial wave of his painkillers to find the both of you huddled in the corner of the chamber, knees curled into your torsos as you shiver in the cold.

“Y-Y/N,” he breathes, and reality dawns on him as he sees the mist of his breath fan out from his mouth. “Y/N?”

“S-s-so cold,” you chatter, curling into him as he puts his good arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

“D-don’t fall asleep,” he breathes, and you don’t respond, the chills rocking your entire shaking body as you curl into him further.

The walkie-talkie screeches for a moment, and Namjoon grabs it, responding back to the static. “H-hello? Anyone! Y/N and I are stuck in the main chamber! Temperature is dropping quickly. Hello?!”

The only response is static as he drops the walkie-talkie to just pull you in closer. “Y/N?”

There’s no response, and when he pulls back to try and look at you, your head lulls in his arms.

“Shit,” he mutters, “Y/N, Y/N!” He shakes you, but you’re completely unconscious in his arms. "Wake up!”

“No no no no no,” he chants, as he begins undressing, his whole body resisting the motions as he shivers in the cold, but he perseveres. He pulls his uniform open, baring his chest, and then proceeds to unbutton your uniform as well, baring a t-shirt underneath. He pulls your limp body close as he removes the t-shirt and then completely drapes himself over you, pressing your bare chests together as he pulls you tight against him, skin to skin.

He pulls the uniform tighter around your back so that you don’t lose any more body heat, when he finally hears yelling and pounding on the other side of the huge gate. He hugs you closer to himself before everything goes black, too.

[olivinesea]

Space Is Only Noise If You Can See, pt.3

Part 1 Part 2

a/n: Surprise! Next part’s here. A bit shorter but no less traumatic so don’t get comfortable. TW major character death, guns, suicide, violence, you’ve got the picture. I’ll do my best to get the final part to you in a timely manner. ~2k

The hits keep coming.

The street was quiet when he got there thirty minutes later. No ambulance or police with their colors flashing across the front of the house. He thought it was odd but it barely registered when everything in his life was a little off. He ran up to the front door and found it slightly ajar. He pushed it open cautiously, uncertain what he would be met with on the other side. It had grown dark, the sun replaced by much weaker street lamps. He felt around for the light switch, knowing he would regret this action.

He sucked in a breath when the shadows were lifted, every gruesome detail just as he remembered. The blood. There was so much blood. He reached up a hand to wipe it away from his eyes. He was numb, unable to look at anything but Morgan’s body, cold and lifeless on the floor. The scene replayed again, this time in Morgan’s entryway, the setting a little different, the results all the same. He had never been able to save them.

The thought of the others, the rest of his team who he’d watched get murdered hundreds of times, reminded him that JJ was there. She had called him, that was why he was here, not a case, not a killer. He wanted to call out for her but it felt wrong to raise his voice in such close proximity to this horror. Instead he carefully stepped around his friend, not looking for fear he would fall to his knees and try to force the life back where it belonged. If he could bring Derek back by returning every drop of blood to the emptied veins, he would spend eternity gathering what had been spilled. If only the world allowed for that kind of trade.

He made it around to the kitchen but found it empty, as were the other rooms on this floor. While he searched he called 911. He didn’t understand why they weren’t there yet, they should be there by now. When he questioned them, the dispatcher told him there’d been no reports made about that address. He quickly relayed the basic details, even more eager to find JJ and discover what had happened between her call and his arrival. He frowned as he hung up, confused. As a precaution, he pulled his gun from its holster, nerves lighting up. JJ wouldn’t have left surely. He crossed the hallway again, this time heading for the stairs. He didn’t know why, there was no reason for her to have gone up there. But there was no reason for any of this. So he climbed to the second floor, placing each footstep carefully on the polished hardwood.

He found her in the master bedroom, curled up on Derek’s king-sized bed, her back to him. The relief he felt upon seeing her dissipated quickly. Something about her form was too still. He approached, apprehensive but also hopeful that the room might dissolve around him at any moment. This had the same feeling as his nightmares, perhaps it was only that. He'd never hoped more that his mind was tricking him.

As soon as he touched her shoulder, he knew. Everything was wrong. The weight of his hand made her body fall back until she was face up, head resting on the pillows. Her blue eyes were open, blonde hair loose around her, some of it caught across her face. He brushed it back, feeling the chill of her skin, the precious warmth already fled. There was no blood but he spotted an empty pill bottle in her hand. His mind fought against what he was seeing, so far from the correct order of things. She had only called him half an hour ago. How was there even time for this to occur? He pulled the bottle from her hand and felt the world spin faster. He blinked, chasing away the errant lines crossing his vision but the words on the label remained the same. The block type informed him that it once held opioids prescribed to one Aaron Hotchner.

He couldn’t imagine how it had ended up here, couldn’t even remember when he had gotten the prescription. It could have been after any number of injuries. He never took more than one or two before his body reminded him how sick they made him feel. The pain relief was never worth the sweating weakness and nausea that accompanied it. He usually tried to decline when they were offered but somehow he regularly ended up with one or two bottles mixed in with his too large assortment of other medications. He worried about it, knowing Jack was getting older, getting taller, might become curious about such things. He knew it was irresponsible to have narcotics he was not keeping track of somewhere as accessible as his medicine cabinet. But he never imagined this would be the consequence of that uncharacteristic lapse in judgement.

He stared at the small orange bottle, dwarfed by his hand. He didn’t know what to do with this information, had no idea how to process its meaning. Stunned he backed out of the room, out of the house completely. Everything he found inside there was upside-down and he needed air. He stood on the porch, looking vacantly out at the street, gun in one hand, death in the other. He rubbed the bottle continuously with his thumb as the ambulance and cop cars began arriving. His thumb caught a little every time it met the edge of the lid, scraping his skin against it, trying to remember when he even got it. When it disappeared.

An officer approached, weapon drawn, demanding he identify himself, wary of the gun dangling from the large man’s fingers. With effort, Hotch focused his eyes on the stranger, distantly registered the man’s anxiety. He gave his name and slowly moved to pull out his credentials. Hotch tried to answer his questions but all he could remember was Morgan getting shot by Mr. Scratch. Or did he shoot him? His words veered into incoherence and the officer became alarmed. If he hadn’t seen the man’s badge, he’d have a hard time believing this was BAU Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner.

“Sir? Were you injured? I think you need to get checked by the medics,” he said. He took Hotch’s gun from him and steered him in the direction of the ambulance. Hotch didn’t mind him taking the gun, what good was it? His gun couldn’t protect him from the phantom tearing through his life, destroying everything that was good. He doubted a medic could help either.

Hotch was sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, continuing to ruminate when Dave arrived. The medic, after determining there was no physical injury to the man, left him there with instructions to stay put until someone came for him. Hotch hadn’t thought about who was listed as his emergency contact.

“Aaron! What happened?”

Hotch looked at him with wild eyes. He was terrified for Dave, certain now that this was the dream come true. Peter Lewis had gotten inside not only his mind but his life and was ripping the pieces apart slowly.

“Dave you can’t be here! You have to go,” he stood up and put his hands on Rossi’s chest, as if to push him away. Dave grabbed his wrists, eyebrows drawn together, confused by this reaction. Hotch curled his hands into fists and ducked his head. “Please,” he begged, “please Dave, it’s not safe.”

“Aaron, look at me.” Anticipating a bad reaction but doing it anyway, Rossi took hold of his face with both hands and forced the other man to meet his eyes. “What is going on?”

But Hotch was past reason by this point. The words he got out didn’t make sense to Rossi who only heard snippets about coffins and blood and Scratch—but that case was months ago, surely this was unrelated. He didn’t like to think that Hotch had been hiding something about that night for this long but he wouldn’t be surprised by it either. He thought about how Hotch’s confusion had lingered long after the doctors said the drugs’ effects should have worn off. How he had stopped asking for confirmation of details from that night yet he would occasionally lose focus, be half a step behind in conversation.

Rossi looked quickly over at the house, now swarming with officials, drawn to the crime scene like summer moths to lamps. He wasn’t needed here and Hotch very much needed to be somewhere else right now. Dave didn’t know what was happening in his friend’s mind but he knew the chaos of the scene around them wasn’t helping. He waved over an EMT to inform them he would be taking Agent Hotchner home, would ensure his safety. The medic gave no argument, there was nothing wrong with the man that they could see, only that he might be in some sort of shock over finding his colleague’s body. There was no reason for him to be their responsibility, they were happy enough to let someone else take over.

Rossi managed to lead Hotch back to the SUV, even more concerned by the fact that he didn’t resist being guided by a hand on his back. Didn’t try to shrug off the outward expression of concern. If Aaron was too distracted to notice physical contact, something was urgently wrong. Dave thought about this as he opened the door and gently pushed the other man into the passenger seat, giving non-committal responses to Hotch’s continued warnings that he needed to get away, that he needed to get everyone away.

“Put on your seatbelt,” he instructed after getting in himself and seeing it was still undone. Hotch stared at him blankly and he had to actually reach across and grab the restraint for him. Thought it bruised his heart, Dave ignored the way Aaron recoiled from his sudden nearness. He hated to see this side of Hotch, it reminded him how hard the man must work all the time to suppress his reactions, how much effort he went through to hide parts of himself he deemed unacceptable.

He straightened up and secured his own seatbelt before turning the key. He paused, not sure where to take them. Hotch was quiet now, seeming to be lost in the lights that danced across the front of Derek’s house. Dave decided to call Garcia, to update her and see if she had any updates for him. He had rushed from the office after receiving a call from a worried officer about one Agent Hotchner found disoriented at a crime scene. There had been little time to share details. Dave tried not to think about how he was using the term “crime scene” to describe Morgan’s home.

Rossi put his phone on speaker as he shifted into drive. He decided the first stop should be to Aaron’s apartment to check on Jack and see if he could get the man to calm down enough to make some sense. As soon as Garcia answered, he regretted calling her. She was in a panic, news of what had been found had reached her. Normally able to work, even through big emotions, this was all too much for Penelope. She was nearly as incoherent as Hotch was when he’d found him.

“Okay, okay, listen Penelope. I’ve got Hotch, I’m taking him home. Why don’t you call Emily? She’s supposed to have landed by now I think,” Dave was trying his best to stay patient. Honestly, he didn’t know what any of them should do but this manageable instruction seemed to calm Garcia a little.

She sniffled. “Emily, right, of course. I’ll call her right now, sir.”

“Great, thank you Penelope. Let’s just try to stay focused on getting everyone safe. I’ll call you when we get to Hotch’s place.”

“H-how is he? How are you?”

Dave looked over at Hotch who was still quietly brooding. Rossi could almost hear Hotch’s thoughts racing, trying to find a way to get ahead of whatever was happening. It was actually encouraging, he seemed more lucid than before. Dave opened his mouth to tell Garcia everything with them was alright for the moment. But that was the moment a truck slammed into the driver’s side door, sending the SUV spinning wildly through the intersection.

~Part 4~

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

*Trigger warning- panic attack. The next 4 chapters will stay completely angsty as well, but I swear the ride will get us to a happy ending. Due to feedback, I agree that I need to show the trauma and progression to heal.

Thank you to @mcornilliac​ for your invaluable input, it’s really gonna help bring the story fully to life :) 

“Lucy, baby,” Natsu’s hand squeezed harder. “You gotta calm down.”

“Ma’am... ma’am,” the EMT snapped his fingers in front of Lucy’s face. “Ma’am, I need you to focus on me. Can you focus on me?”

Their words were just muffled static, barely any tone and definitely not comprehensible to Lucy for there was too much competition vying for attention flowing through her mind. It felt like standing in a rapid wave break of constant ebb and flow but pounding against her prone body flattened into the shoreline. The thoughts raced so quickly, screaming, with only the harshest words coming through like a foghorn in the blackest night. Death. Pain. Blood. Anger, along with the emotional turmoil that came with them. Each rushing wave of anxiety fueled irrational thought after thought. ‘Stupid, stupid girl! Such a selfish fool! This was your fault for stealing away someone else’s love, a fantasy home wrecker! Fuck that! Natsu was mine fair and square, damn it! I deserved Natsu just as much and he loved me! Not Touka! Me!!!’ Lucy’s mind screamed, but the stares ate away... All those eyes judging her as they took that walk of shame. The authorities, the neighbors, heaven help her the talk that’s bound to get around. Will there be whispered, and hushed tones muttered around her, bearing down with all the weight of a thousand gravitational forces?! It was too much! Too mu—

“Oww!!” Lucy screamed and yanked her hand back, as she felt a sharp stab on the back of her hand. “What the fuck did you do that for?!” She glared at the EMT while rubbing and nursing the angry red spot. Whatever the man had done had hurt, but aside from the pain, nothing broke through the skin.

Without missing a beat, the EMT merely retook Lucy’s hand and placed two fingers over the pulse point in her wrist. “Can you tell me your name?” He questioned, speaking in a soft tone.

“Of course, I can! It’s Lucy Heartfilia!”

“Mmhmm,” he uttered in response. His eyes stayed trained on his own watch. “Do you know where you are?”

“In a fucking ambulance!”

“And who’s the current prime minister?”

“Huh? Um,” she paused with her head slightly tilted, “it was Abe, but I don’t remember the new guys name.”

“Close enough. Your pulse is still high, but it’s coming down now.” The EMT let go of Lucy’s hand, talking as he continued working on things. “I’m sorry to use such a technique, but when a person is in a panic attack, we need to snap them out of it as quickly as possible to keep it from escalating. Basically, during an attack your mind goes on overload, but physical stimulation can halt it. Shocks, if you will, to snap your focus away from cognitive thoughts back to the physical reality. The questions were to check if your cognitive focus had returned.”

“Oh...” was all Lucy could respond with to all the jargon. She hadn’t even realized she was having a panic attack. “T-Thank you...” But she wondered for a moment, just some physical pain could stop all those bad thoughts? It was something she’d never known before.

“You’re welcome. There are other methods including those you can administer to yourself at the immediate onset, so I suggest you look into them in case of another attack.”

“You think she’ll have more?” Natsu questioned with an obvious mix of concern and curiosity. The whole thing happened so quickly, that by the time he’d registered how bad it was, he couldn’t even react to a stranger stabbing a pen into his girlfriend’s hand. He was annoyed but glad this EMT was able to stay completely focused and calm.

“Traumatic events can cause a lot of emotional reactions including panic attacks. So, it’s a good idea to be prepared just in case.” The EMT now injected her arm, explaining as he went. “This is a mild sedative just to help you relax.”

By the time they’d reached the hospital, the sedative was taking effect and Lucy struggled to keep her eyes open. The level of exhaustion blindsided them both. Physically exhausted as if she’d run a marathon and emotionally drained. The closest she could rationalize it to was studying for the college entrance exam and how tired she’d been once it was over. So, she sat quietly as the medical personnel double checked her wounds, but too dazed to pay attention when they were giving her aftercare instructions. Thank goodness for Levy who’d been waiting as soon as they’d arrived. The woman handled a lot of the talking for Lucy and Natsu, but Natsu himself was being worked on next to Lucy. His wounds were cleaned up better so they could get a closer look.

The doctors inform Lucy she’s free to go but Natsu would have to stay so they could run X-rays. She wanted to fight to stay because right now he was the closest thing to security she had but could barely focus. With some gentle coaxing from both Natsu and Levy, and reminders that Touka wasn’t getting out of jail, Lucy eventually relents. A police officer would be escorting the women back to their apartment.

“Just try to get some sleep, please,” Natsu kissed his girlfriend. “I promise to call you as soon as I can, but I might pass out as soon as I hit my bed.” He wanted to be honest with her but assuring at the same time.

“O-Okay,” she nodded slowly, glassy eyed from exhaustion and sadness. “I understand.”

He leaned his head to her forehead while cupping the back of her neck. “We’re gonna be okay, Lucy. We’re gonna get through this, and I’ll be there for you no matter how long it takes.”

That pulls a few sniffles out of the woman who closes her eyes. “I love you, Natsu.”

“I love you too, Lucy.” He sits back up. “Now promise me you’ll get some sleep?” She nodded. Natsu smiled. “That’s my girl.”

Gray arrived shortly after the two women left for the night to keep his friend company and help him get home. Natsu wasn’t keeping track of time, but it sure felt like this was taking forever. The police had taken both he and Lucy’s phones for evidence, so he had nothing to pass the time with. Luckily, there wasn’t a lot of downtime between treatments. After the X-ray, the doctors sedated him and sewed up the wounds on his cheek and abdomen. It took both internal and external sutures, but luckily the side wound didn’t hit anything major. According to the doctor, the knife had missed the large intestine by a centimeter. He’ll be left with nasty scars for life, but a life is one he’ll at least have.

“You okay, man?” Gray questioned.

“Just tired and sore,” Natsu sighed. Now that Lucy wasn’t there, he let his body and mind fully register all the physical pain he was going through. “I just wanna fall into my bed.”

The doctors told Natsu, he should fully heal in about six to eight weeks, pending he keep the wound clean, keep his health up, and above all did nothing to aggravate it. So much for working, but he was sure that Makarov will make an exception. Maybe put him on register, light stocking, and inventory with no heavy lifting. As for how bad the scars will be, only time will tell. Plastic surgery might help, but that costs money. In a fleeting thought, Natsu worried that Lucy would leave him over it. ‘No way, she’s not vain like that... although the reminder it gives might be the problem...’ he quickly dismissed the notion from conscious thought, even though it lingered in the background. It would certainly hurt if she did, but could he really blame her? To be reminded of the night she almost died every time she looked at him? Natsu wanted to believe that Lucy was strong enough to get through this, and regardless if things eventually didn’t work out between them, he’d never stop trying to help her. He owed her that much for putting her in this situation. Well... that wasn’t fair, he couldn’t have foreseen Touka’s behavior, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty for it.

“We’re here.”

Grays voice snapped Natsu out of his thoughts. He looked out of the taxi window to see the front of their apartment building. “Oh, right.” He was so ready to clean up and sleep.

Inside their apartment, Natsu took a shower, and Gray helped him to re-bandage his wounds. The warm water and sensation of being clean helped him to feel a little better, at least physically, even though the emotional turmoil still churned. But as he laid in bed, the exhaustion was swiftly taking over. There was so much to do. Replace their phones, the official police interview, notifying their jobs and schools to make sure they wouldn’t fall behind. Even the EMT’s comment was nagging at him, so note to self, call the shrink in the morning... well, as soon as he woke up anyways. By the time his eyes were shuttering closed, the early breach of dawn had made its calling. It was a new day and all Natsu could hope was to start anew.

[daringyounggrayson]

written for the lovely @aeligsido as part of a gift exchange!

Summary: After an argument with Bruce, Dick retaliates by running off to a not-so-safe part of Gotham. During his misadventure, he drinks a slushie, stops an attempted robbery, and lands himself in someone else’s trunk. He can’t exactly say that his current situation is a surprise, but that doesn’t mean getting out of it is going to be a piece of cake. Especially when he has a head injury working against him.

oOo

In retrospect, Dick made a lot of stupid decisions tonight.

The first stupid decision had been starting up the concert argument again which, at this point, is a losing battle that isn’t really about a concert anymore. Dick still doesn’t understand how going on a mission in space isn’t a big deal but going to a concert with a few friends who happen to be in college is. Especially since Dick met the “college kids” when they were all still in high school together. And, besides, a couple of the people he went on the space mission with are the same age as the aforementioned college kids.

Dick didn’t—doesn’t—even care about the concert that much; he’s annoyed that Bruce is being a controlling hypocrite and treating Dick like a child. He’s annoyed that after all these years of continuously proving himself to Bruce, the man still doesn’t trust him.

So what did Dick do to show Bruce why he should trust him? A series of stupid, stupid things that served the sole purpose of making Bruce angry. And to make it worse, Dick knew how stupid they were and chose to do them anyway. He knew he was being stupid when he left his phone at home, and he knew he was being stupid when he ignored Bruce’s use of Dick’s full name as he left the grounds. He knew he was being stupid when he immediately drove to a not-so-safe part of Gotham just so he could rub it in Bruce’s face later.

The point is, Dick knows it won’t be fun when he eventually has to face Bruce’s wrath and whatever punishment is waiting for him the second he gets home—but Dick doesn’t care. Right now, Bruce is an ass and Dick finally has some space to think, to breathe. Plus, just by sitting outside this gas station and drinking a cherry slushie at eleven o’clock at night, in perfect view of a security camera no less, he knows he’s making Bruce furious. That part’s fun. So is thinking about how Bruce is probably watching him from said security camera, fuming and trying to figure out how to handle the situation he’s found himself in. It’s almost worth the inevitable grounding. (Almost.)

It stays fun right up until Dick notices two guys walking into the gas station, hiding their faces. Dick watches them carefully, still sipping his slushie and doing his best to seem innocuous. The second they pull out guns, Dick runs in, wishing he’d brought his phone with him so he could’ve called the police first. Wishing he’d brought a mask so he could’ve had more options.

But, stupid mistakes already made, he only has one option: get their attention and disarm them.

What happens after entering the gas station is kind of a blur. He remembers getting their attention, and he remembers emptying bullets onto the floor, so he must have disarmed them. But he’s not sure how quickly or efficiently he’d done that; he’d heard gunshots, he’s sure of that much, but he doesn’t remember if anyone had been hit.

He also remembers that he’d been recognized as Bruce Wayne’s kid at some point, and the situation had quickly shifted from a robbery/mugging to a kidnapping. Dick remembers trying to resist, and he’s pretty sure he broke someone’s nose in the process. The last thing he’s sure about is being pinned to the ground. He can’t remember which goon had done that, but before Dick could so much as think about getting out of the hold, they’d slammed his head against the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious for a second, hard enough to disorient him long enough to shove him in a trunk.

Now, in the trunk, Dick realizes another stupid decision he’d made: he didn’t bring his Robin belt with him and now getting out of this isn’t going to be a piece of cake.

What feels like fifteen minutes later, Dick’s tied to a chair in some car repair shop with a skull-splitting headache. His situation isn’t exactly ideal, but he knows that if it comes down to it, he’ll be able to get out of this—he’s Robin the Boy Wonder after all. It just won’t be easy, and his odds of coming out of it unscathed aren’t exactly low. Especially since the two men have guns again and Dick’s pretty sure his head is already bleeding.

The more Dick thinks about it, the more he hopes that Bruce had been watching him on that security camera.

“Alright, kid, what’s daddy’s number?”

Dick tilts his head up to look at the guy holding the phone, trying to figure out why he wants a dead man’s phone num—oh. Bruce. He means Bruce.

Dick doesn’t usually have to type Bruce’s number. It’s not often that he calls Bruce, and when he does, it’s almost always on his cellphone, so Dick just dials from his contacts. He knows the number by heart anyway though. It’s just that the pounding in his head—the one that’s getting worse the more he tries to focus—is making it hard to think; it’s making it take longer to access the information Dick knows is there.

“Uh,” Dick starts, trying to recall the numbers and what order they go in. But then again, is it even worth it? Will Bruce answer a call from an unknown number? And what time is it? The odds of him answering drop significantly if he’s already on patrol. Maybe Dick should call Alfred instead.

Impatient, phone-guy kicks Dick’s chair, sending him back a few inches with a screech. Dick blinks as the world spins and his stomach threatens to give up his slushie.

“Come on! I’m not asking again.”

“Chill, man,” the other guy cuts in, voice sounding slightly off and distorted. He has dried blood on his face and his nose looks crooked.

Huh, Dick thinks, guess I did break someone’s nose.

“You chill.”

Another kick to the chair, and this time it forces a mouthful of cherry slushie into his mouth. Dick grimaces as he forces it back down, squeezing his eyes shut as someone yells at him and tugs his head back by his hair.

Dick rattles off Bruce’s number, hoping that he’ll answer so Dick can go home and forget about all of his stupid, stupid decisions. Maybe Bruce will even take pity on him and forgo the lecture and grounding—not that Dick will be leaving the house any time soon if this headache is an indication of anything.

A phone is shoved against his ear and Dick flinches at the contact, snapping his eyes open and looking around.

“Dick? Are you alright?” Bruce is asking, voice controlled but urgent.

“Where are you?” Dick asks.

“I’m on my way,” Bruce says. “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

Dick doesn’t feel alright; maybe Bruce hadn’t been watching the cameras. “Did you see me?”

“Wha—”

The phone is gone and the lights shut off.

“Shit, shit, shit,” nose-guy rambles, voice higher than before as he slaps his hand over Dick’s mouth. Dick twists his head to try to get out of the man’s grip but it doesn’t work.

“Shut up,” phone-guy hisses. “Do you want to get caught?”

“Come out with your hands up!”

Dick’s first thought is a sarcastic guess the GCPD isn’t completely useless, and his second is one of relief. The third is that he should probably help them out, so he starts shouting behind the hand covering his mouth and kicking his legs against the chair, trying to create as much noise as possible.

“Shit, shit, shit,” nose-guy repeats, working himself into a conniption. “What do we do?”

“Would you pull it together,” phone-guy hisses, simultaneously slapping his hand over nose-guy and trying to still Dick’s legs. “Kid, if you don’t chill out, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

Dick knows a bluff when he hears one, and Dick also knows this guy knows he’s about to get caught and doesn’t want to add murder to his list of charges. So Dick keeps yelling, and—shocker—his head stays bullet-free.

Not even a minute later, a flashlight dances across Dick’s face, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he can make out two police officers, both wielding guns and flashlights.

The one yells, “Hands up—now!”

The hand is gone from Dick’s mouth and his legs are no longer being held down.

“Okay. Keep them up and step away from the kid. Nice and slow.”

The other officer moves to Dick’s side, immediately going to untie the ropes. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, moving his arms in front of him and rubbing at his wrist once the ropes are gone. The officer presses something—gauze, probably—against Dick’s still bleeding head. He winces, holding back a hiss. “Aside from my head.”

“Sorry about that. EMTs are on their way,” the officer assures, keeping a straight face and not giving any indication of how bad the injury is. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Richard Grayson,” Dick says. Instead of looking at the officer, Dick watches as the wanna-be kidnappers are led out of the car repair shop in handcuffs.

“Alright, Richard, while we wait for medical to get down here, how about we call your parents and let them know you’re okay, yeah?”

Dick nods and rattles off Bruce’s number.

oOo

Dick’s would-be kidnappers were some of the worst he’s ever seen, and as Robin, he’s seen quite a few. They barely had him for thirty minutes, and that includes the time spent at the gas station. Their license plates got called in twice: once from the store clerk who found their license plate by checking the security footage, and a second time when Dick kicked out one of the car’s taillights and someone behind them saw Dick’s hand sticking out. And then—this part still makes Dick laugh—they just parked the car right in front of their so-called hideout. The hideout belonged to a friend, but they forgot about the silent alarm, so when they tripped it and didn’t key in the code to turn it off, the police were alerted a third time.

Bruce was probably tracking their call, too, but it wasn’t necessary because the police showed up at the car repair shop five minutes after Dick and his kidnappers did. Dick was almost embarrassed about getting knocked in the head by one of them, but he felt a little better when he found out that both of them were on their high school’s wrestling team—or at least, the EMT who apparently went to high school with them had been pretty sure.

“Richard’s right over here.”

Dick peels his arm off his face and opens his eyes when he hears the nurse. The curtain is pulled back and Bruce is standing there. The amount of relief Dick feels just by seeing Bruce is something he won’t admit to. It almost feels like that time he’d lost his mom at a craft store as a kid, specifically the moment when they’d found each other again and she’d pulled him into her arms. She’d been just as relieved as Dick, so much that she hadn’t berated him at all for running off. She’d just held him close and whispered Dick, thank god while pressing kisses into his hair.

“Dick, thank god.” Bruce looks like he’s experiencing a similar feeling, albeit the flipped version, the one his mom had felt. Or something close to it. Then, to the nurse, “Thank you.”

“Hey,” Dick says, quirking his lips into a small, brief smile.

Bruce’s brows furrow, looking Dick over and lingering on the bandage over his head where he’d needed stitches. Bruce is rigid, uncertain. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, Bruce, honest,” Dick tries to assure. He sits up, moving his hand to reach for Bruce. Before he can complete the action, Bruce tugs him into a tight hug and it’s not until that moment that something in Dick’s chest unravels and he realizes he’s okay.

Bruce pulls back for a moment, scanning Dick’s face and looking like he wants to say something. He doesn’t. Just brushes Dick’s hair back before pressing a kiss against his forehead. Then he pulls Dick back into the hug, resting his cheek against the side of Dick’s head that’s still intact.

“Are you mad?” The evening started with a fight, one that hadn’t really been finished, and if Dick hadn’t left just to piss Bruce off, none of this would have happened. Though, the look on Bruce’s face and the heaviness on his shoulders tells Dick that he doesn’t care about that right now.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable addendum. “We can talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

So, no punishment, but the conversation—the argument—isn’t over.

Dick scowls but, for whatever reason, he doesn’t pull away from Bruce’s hold.

Bruce shifts to sit beside Dick on the bed, keeping one arm wrapped around Dick’s shoulder in a side hug. Dick rests his head against Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce presses a kiss into Dick’s hair. Dick doesn’t mind.

“Tired?” Bruce asks after a while.

Dick nods.

“Get some sleep. We’ll likely be here for a few hours.”

Dick groans. “Why can’t we just go home? I feel fine.” Well, relatively.

Bruce squeezes Dick’s shoulder. “According to your doctor, you have a concussion and likely a linear skull fracture. I doubt they will be discharging you anytime soon.”

“Yeah, but can’t you Brucie Wayne us out of this?”

“Not this time, chum.” Dick can’t see Bruce’s face from this angle, but his voice sounds like he’s frowning.

As much as Dick wants to argue his way out of the ER, he also wants to lie down again. His headache is getting worse and so is the nausea. He already threw up once and it’s not exactly something he wants to have happen again. Especially since Dick’s cherry slushie turned the vomit red, which understandably concerned the medical staff.

Dick sighs and lifts his head, and Bruce mirrors the action by pulling away and standing up. Dick lies down and Bruce hesitates before moving to a chair. Dick reaches to grab Bruce’s hand, which Bruce accepts immediately.

They’re quiet, Dick dozing for a while until the doctor comes back with the CT results, confirming both the concussion and the linear skull fracture. The good news is that Dick will live, the bad news is that he has to stay put for a few hours so they can observe him and make sure nothing goes wrong. He supposes it could’ve been worse, though; Bruce reminds him that they could’ve admitted Dick and kept him overnight.

Bruce calls Alfred to give him the update after the doctor leaves. Alfred didn’t come along because Barbara had already left for patrol and he didn’t like the idea of her being on her own and not having anyone to assist her via comms as needed. It had been the right decision, but when Bruce hands Dick the phone to talk to Alfred, Dick hears concern and worry and guilt in the man’s voice. It hadn’t been easy for Alfred to refrain from running to Dick’s bedside tonight, and he’s sure Alfred will hover for the next few days, but Dick won’t mind.

The phone call ends with Alfred passing on well-wishes from Babs and an exchange of I love yous between Alfred and Dick. Alfred lets Dick hang up first, and then it’s just Dick and Bruce once more.

Bruce not exactly being the best conversationalist and Dick being very much concussed, Dick decides to sleep some more. But before Dick falls asleep, Bruce’s chair shifts.

Leaning closer to Dick, Bruce murmurs, “I’m … I do trust you, Dick. And I’m proud of you—every day.”

They had exchanged a lot of hurtful words during their argument, but right now, none of them feel true. Not what Dick had said, and not what Bruce had said or hadn’t said. Funny how a crisis can make everything else feel so small and insignificant, if even for a moment.

“I know, B.” Dick reaches blindly for Bruce’s hand, squeezing it when he finds it. “Love you too.”

[cheekysos]

The Maori Protector | Calum Hood | Bodyguard!AU x Plus Size Reader

Author’s Note:  Please be kind this is the first time I’ve written in like two years. Also I’m not writing this series to exclude any body type, shape, or size because everyone’s bodies should be accepted and celebrated. So I am very sorry if this in any way excludes anyone, that is not my intention. If there’s anything you’d like to read please leave a request in my asks and I will try my best to do it justice. Depending on the response I plan to make multiple parts of this.

Summary: Y/N is a famous plus sized actress and Calum is her bodyguard.

Warnings: Swearing, breaking and entering, and some light sexual comments

  From a young age you were always bigger, bigger than the girls your age and most of the time even the boys. It made your childhood rather difficult and usually pretty emotional. In spite all of those hardships the only thing that brought you solace was acting. It gave you courage and confidence, even if it was only temporary. Which brings you to now, you had stuck with acting, getting a few parts here and there, usually the stereotypical funny fat friend but then you got your big break.

  You couldn’t believe that you were finally cast as the lead; a part that had nothing to do with your size and given the timing of the world it just worked out and people loved it. Your schedule was filling up and you were more popular than ever. But with all that good brings a lot of bad as well, which is why your manager had insisted on hiring you a personal body guard and wasn't taking no for an answer.

“I don’t know Carl, I still don’t see why I need a body guard.” You poked, aimlessly scrolling through your phone while Jane continued to curl your hair. You were about to make your first late night television appearance and were trying to keep your mind on something other than your nerves.

“We’ve been over this. People are starting to show up to places you’ll be at and paparazzi these days have no boundaries. It’s for your own good.” He sighed, the two of you have had this conversation multiple times already. “I interviewed like 20 dudes for this, I promise he’s the best of the best. Just please play nice.” He teased before walking out the door. It’s not like you were a mean person or anything just guarded more than anything and rightfully so. You can’t look like you do and work in show business without having some trust issues.

   Jane finished up your hair with some hairspray, “you’re all set. Go get changed you’re on in ten love.”                                           

   “Thanks. Looks great, like always!” You beamed looking at yourself in mirror before walking into the green room bathroom. You squeezed yourself into your beige spanx tucking and adjusting your lumps and bumps. The dress you and your stylist decided on was a deep red ruched midi length dress with off the shoulder 3/4 length sleeves. It hugged your body in all the right ways and still managed to leave something to the imagination. You paired the dress with black strapped heels and a small gold necklace. You stepped out of the bathroom, your back zipper still open, “Jane can you zip me up?”

As you lifted your gaze your eyes landed a large figure standing between Jane and Carl. His tall frame and broad shoulders were covered in a crisp black suit. You were way too caught up in how incredibly good looking he was to remember the fact that your backside was still exposed. You probably wouldn’t have noticed Jane zipping you up if it wasn’t for her cold hands.                                         

“Y/N, this is Calum Hood. He’s your new head of security,” Carl said. You could feel your cheeks flush as you made eye contact with him. His massive hand reached out to shake yours, you obliged taking note of the ink adorning his hand. Your mind started to wander, thinking of other parts of his body that might be cover in tattoos.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Y/L/N,” his accent catching you off guard yet again.          

 “Please just Y/N,” you said softly. He nodded in acknowledgment.                          “We can go over specifics later,” Carl interrupted. “Y/N it’s time to go.” He ushered you past Calum.

   Despite your best efforts to focus on the interview you couldn’t help but think about the gorgeous brooding man waiting backstage to protect you.

   It had been over a month since Calum started working for you and let’s just say it’s been a challenge. Every day you spent with him made it harder and harder to stay professional, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, but Calum was most of all a professional. He kept your conversations always about you and work. You tried so hard to get something from him; a lingering glance, a morsel of personal information, even a smile but have yet to be successful. Which is why you were trying so hard to stay professional, he clearly wasn’t interested and you respected that and a small part of you wasn’t surprised. Just because you were a successful actress doesn’t mean weren’t insecure and today was just one of those days.                                                  

    If your mind was going to choose a day to be in a funk at least it chose one where you can stay at home cuddled on the couch with a glass of wine and a pint of ice cream while watching an unhealthy amount of rom-coms. You got up from the couch to fill your glass when you heard something like pounding. You weren’t exactly a paranoid person but living alone in a fairly decent sized home and the three glasses of wine didn’t exactly help.  You paused your movie, listening just to be sure. You heard the pounding again this time louder, making you jump. Your fuzzy sock clad feet slid across the hardwood floor and grabbed your phone . The pounding started again, this time by the windows in your dinning room. You scurried into the bathroom and locked the door. You weren’t even really thinking when your fingers started to scroll through your phone book and landed on Calum’s name.             

   Four rings and he answered. “Hello?” His voice was soft and made you forget about your current situation for just a second.

  “Y/N? Is everything okay?” He questioned.    

  “Y-ya-yes it’s me.” you stuttered. “I - uh didn’t know who to call. I’m home alone and someone’s pounding....I don’t know if it’s a joke or if....”           

“Where are you?” He cut you off. His voice was different now stern and concerned.                  

 “In the bathroom. I locked the door.” your hands started to shaking.                         “Good. Stay there until I get there.” You heard his car start. “Did you call the police?”

    How could you not have thought of that first, he’s going to think you’re crazy, you thought to yourself. “No I...I wasn’t sure who to call”

 “It’s fine I’ll call them right no...” he was still talking when this time you cut him off.

  “Please don’t hang up.” Tears started pooling in the corners of your eyes. Your brother always teased you for being so over dramatic.

  “Okay... then I need you to text Carl tell him what’s going on and that I’m on my way to you and you need him to call the police. Can you do that for me.” His voice was steady and calming. You did as you were told almost immediately. Calum kept quiet on the other end until you told him the message was sent.

“Good. I’m almost there, few more minutes. I’ll probably make it there before the police. When I get there I’m going to...”

CRASH. They shattered a window.

You couldn’t help letting a scream escape before you covered your mouth, tears flowing down your checks now.

“Y/N! What happened?!” He yelled.

“They broke a window I think.” You quietly sobbed. Your hand covering your mouth and phone as an attempt to be as quiet as possible.

“Fuck!” You heard the sound of what you assumed to be Calum beeping the horn. “It’s okay turn the light off in the bathroom and stay quiet. I promise I’m almost there.”

 The rest happened so quickly. Before you knew it Calum was at your house smashing the remaining bits of glass and jumping through the window. He ran towards the bathroom calling out your name. You unlocked the bathroom door and wrapped yourself around his toned torso, silently sobbing into his chest. 

  He held you until the police arrived. He led you to the front door, his massive hand laid across the small of your back. He unlocked the front door and conversed with two officers while an EMT took you aside to check on you. You were fine of course just shaken up, they wrapped a blanket around you and gave you a glass of water to calm down. Another officer took your statement but you didn’t have much to tell.

You sat on your couch watching Calum intently. You couldn’t hear anything they were saying but that didn’t stop you from watching his plump pink lips move. You just realized Calum was in street clothes - black athletic joggers, a plain white tee, and Nike’s. Fuck he’s so hot and shit his hand was bleeding. You also noticed you were right...he did have more tattoos and they were glorious. By this time the Police officers picked up something put it in an evidence bag and handed it to Calum. His face dropped as he looked at it. What was it? Was he sad or angry? Calum and the officer approached you.

“Miss Y/L/N I’m Officer Callaghan. It looks like the only person to enter your home was Mr. Hood. Someone did however throw this through your window. He held out the object. It was a brick with ‘kill urself fat cow’ written on it in chalk. You didn’t everything you could to fight back the tears.

“It was most likely stupid kids, just a prank.” The officer explained.

“That’s not a prank that’s a threat.” Calum snapped. It was anger. He was definitely angry and honestly it was kind of a good look on him.

“Of course.” Officer Callaghan responded. “While Mr. hood gets his hand looked at I’ll have someone board up your window so you’re homes secure until you can get someone to come fix it. Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?” Callaghan asked.

Maybe Jane? Carl was out of town and you really didn’t want to bother any of your friends. Maybe just a hotel.

“My hand is fine and I’ll take her wherever she wants to go,” Calum spoke.

You didn’t mean to zone out again but you did. Thank god Calum was there and dealt with everything for you. Your mind kept wandering back to the brick. Could someone really hate you that much just because you looked the way you did?

“I spoke with Carl, the window is boarded up and everyone’s gone. Just tell me what you need.” Calum sat next to you in the couch. His cut hand rested on his lap, covered in a paper towel.

“You really should have let someone look at that.” You said faintly.

“I’ve survived much worse.” He joked.

And that’s when you finally saw it. A quick subtle smile and shit he only got more attractive. You ignored the blood rushing to your cheeks, shrugging off the blanket wrapped around your shoulders before you stood up.

“Come with me.” You led Calum into the bathroom, just now realizing how ridiculous you probably looked - fuzzy socks, a massive hoodie, cotton shorts and hair messily twisted into a bun on the top of your head. At least you shaved your legs.

You got the first aid kit out of the cabinet, Calum leaned against the sink and offered you his hand. You carefully removed the paper towel to find multiple cuts in between his knuckles, his beautiful brown skin stained with dry blood.

“You really should have had this looked at by professionals. I think you might need stitches,” you meticulously started to disinfect the area, completely aware of Calum’s big brown eyes watching you.

“I-uh I’m really sorry this happened to you tonight and what they said I.... It’s not..” he sighed. “They’re cowards, scum honestly.” He winced slightly when you started cleaning the largest cut.

“People are entitles to their opinions. And like you said earlier I’ve survived much worse.” You joked, hoping Calum couldn’t pick up on hurt in your voice. But he did.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it but don’t try to justify their behavior or anyone else who’s mistreated you.” His voice was steady and calming again.

Dammit. Why was he like this, so perfect. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay professional. Your body and heart ached for him. What were you supposed to say to that? You didn’t know so you changed the subject.

“Thank you for everything. I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.” You finished applying antibiotic ointment on his wounds before covering them with gauze and securing it with an ace bandage.

“It’s my job to keep you safe,” he cleared his throat. “Thanks for cleaning me up.”

So professional. Why couldn’t he just accept payment in the form of sexual favors.

You offered a half smile and nodded in acknowledgement as you cleaned up.

“Where do you want me to take you?” He questioned.

“I don’t know I’ll probably just stay here, like the police said it was just a prank.” You shrugged and turned on your heel to walk out of the bathroom.

Calum’s hand reached out for yours, turning you back to him. “You’re not staying here. It’s not safe and this wasn’t a prank, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

Your headstrong gene wanted to argue with him but his eyes looked worried and his voice was so sincere. Not to mention the fact that your hand was still intertwined with him and you were practically putty right now. His hand was soft, with the exception of a few callouses on his fingers.  

  “Ok..I can go to...a uh hotel,” you didn’t want to go to a hotel and you most certainly didn’t want to be alone but you lied.

Calum’s hand slipped away from yours, “if that’s where you’ll feel safe.” He replied.

“I won’t feel safe there. But the only place I think I’ll feel safe right now is with you.” Who knows what possessed you to blurt out the truth all of a sudden but you instantly regretted it. “I know you’ve already done way too much and I’ll make sure Carl compensates you for all your trouble but if you’ll just indulge me a little longer...You could stay in my guest room or I’ll pay for a room for you.” You tried to navigate yourself through this shit storm you’ve created so you could still stay with Calum but also be professional.

“Don’t be ridiculous, spending time with you is compensation enough.” He reassured. “And it’s no Ritz Carlton or anything but you’re more than welcome to stay at my place.”

Screw being professional.

[eadanga]

My Lost Love Part 12

Summary: Liam a prince fell in love with Gracelyn a palace maid who disappeared from his life years ago. Now king Liam is determined to find his lost love who is harboring a secret

Author Note: This series is for @texaskitten30​​ one of the winners of my 400 followers giveaway. Hope you enjoy this

Liam couldn’t believe what he saw his baby girl was gone No no no no this can’t be true. He rubbed his eyes and looked again the crib was still empty. He clenched his jaw and turned to Gracelyn who sobbed. He walked over to her “Hey calm down love what happened?”

“I-I-I don’t know Liam I came in here to give her bottle and the crib was empty” She sobbed harder as Liam wrapped his arms around her “My baby is gone! Where’s my baby?!”

Liam held her tightly “It’s alright we’ll find her”

“But what if we never do Liam? There are cases where the baby is gone and never comes back”

“Because I’m promising it everything will be alright I’ll do everything in my power to find her” Liam lift her chin up so that she was looking at him “Do you believe that?”

Gracelyn nods “Yes Liam I do I’m just so worried about her”

“Me too but we will get her back I swear it” He pulls her back into his arms I’ll kill the son of a bitch who did this.

****

Liam lead Gracelyn in the room with Lorelai “You two stay here I’ll call your mom and everyone to stay with you”

“Daddy where you going?”

“Daddy has a meeting baby I’ll be back” He kissed the top of her head and walked out the room.

“Bastien!” Bastien immediately ran towards him and bowed “We have an emergency”

“What is it your majesty?”

“The princess has been kidnapped”

“What?!”

“Yeah whoever did this got into the palace unnoticed either there’s a spy here or they had help from the inside either way we gotta find out”

“Let’s go look at the security footage your majesty”

Liam followed him immediately to the security room. He looked the various tv screens “Go to the time we woke up and the time Gracelyn was making a bottle early this morning”

Bastien punched in the time and watched. After a few moments and a man dressed in the security guards uniform comes into the screen. He looks around makes sure no one is looking and he reaches into the crib and grabs the sleeping princess.

“Pause for a sec” Bastien pauses the video “Can you see the face Bastien?”

“Yeah it’s a little blurry though I’ll print a picture of this”

“Ok continue the footage”

The man places Sierra in a basket and peaks out the door then walks out the door. In the next screen the man sneaks out the palace through a secret passageway then steps into a car and drives away.

“Whoever he is find him Bastien”

“I will your majesty”

****

Regina waits on the steps as a car pulls up she approaches the guy who gets out “Do you have her?”

The man opens the back seat “She’s right here”

“Good I’ll take her inside” She gets the basket and hands him a picture “Here’s your next target”

He smirks “Consider it done”

“Good I heard you were the best I’m glad you didn’t disappoint”

“And I never do I’ll be here tomorrow” He drives away

****

“It’s alright Gracelyn” Evelyn rubs Gracelyn’s back “Liam will catch whoever did this”

“I know I’m just so worried about her I didn’t get any sleep last night”

“Don’t worry we’ll get them back just try to stay calm”

“Thanks mom”

“Anytime sweetie”

Liam steps in “Can I have a word with Gracelyn Evelyn?”

“Of course I’ll take Lorelai to the other room to play”

“That’s fine since we can’t leave the palace”

“Great come Lorelai lets give mommy and daddy a minute alone”

“Ok grandma” Evelyn takes her hand and they walk out the room together

“How are you holding up Gracie”

“I’m scared and shaking Liam”

“I know” He wraps his arms around her tightly “Everything will be fine Bastien is looking for her and we will bring her home”

“Thanks I’m just freaking out right now”

“I know it’s scary” They both turned to the sound of the window breaking “What’s that?!”

They run to the other room and found Evelyn on the floor. Gracelyn dived down to her “Mom are you ok? Mom say something!” Tears welled her eyes “Mom please answer me!”

“Bastien!” Bastien immediately ran in “Call an ambulance!”

“Right away your majesty”

Gracelyn looked around the room “Liam Lorelai is gone!”

“Dammit!” Liam clenches his jaw as the sound of a siren was heard. The EMTs rushed in and loaded Evelyn into a stretcher

****

Regina sat drinking her tea as the front door opened. She looked up and saw Lorelai in his grasp “Excellent job”

“All in a days work”

“Let me go bad man!” She struggled in his grasp trying to get free

“Oh don’t struggle darling”

“Who are you?”

“Me? Well I’m your grandma Regina of course”

“You’re my grandma?”

“Yes I told this man to bring you here”

“Why? I’m scared I want mommy”

“Too bad mommy’s not here” Lorelai turned around as Madeline walked up to her

“I know you you’re the mean lady who hurt my mommy”

“Oh how cute you were watching us little girls should be in bed at that time”

“What do you want with me?!”

“Your mother stole everything from me so I’m gonna steal everything from her. Starting with her precious children. Lock the brat up” The man nods as he takes Lorelai out the room.

“Your plan was successful” Regina pours her a drink

“Of course I can’t wait to see that bitch suffer” She takes a sip “Jesse”

Jesses enters the room “Yes Countess Madeline”

“Thanks so much for finding the kidnapper my plan worked”

“Anything for you Madeline”

“And once that common whore is out the way and I’m queen again you’ll have all the riches and new lands”

“Thank you”

Madeline gives him a flirtatious smile “Let’s go celebrate my victory in bed” She grabs his hand and leads him upstairs

****

Gracelyn paces around as she waits for news. After a few moments Liam steps out “How’s my mom?”

“She’s fine…” Liam looks away for a bit

“What’s wrong?”

Liam sighs “Someone hit her hard on the head she has a skull fracture luckily we got her to the doctor before it got serious”

“Is she awake? Can I see her?”

“No she’s not and the doctor said you can see her tomorrow” Liam places his hands on her shoulders “Listen whoever is involved in this seems to know the palace well so we’re moving to one of the safe houses as quickly as possible”

“Ok Liam”

“Don’t worry we’ll get Lorelai and Sierra back I promise you that”

“I trust you Liam”

Liam pulls her into his arms as rage burns within him No one messes with my family

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