#with. if kit drops it or hands it to someone else it will turn back into a regular sword though

[automatonknight]

juuust realized that actually wx would probably also be a little bit jealous of walenty because as a werething she has connections to the moon

[celesteleoves]

Request for Izuku coming to the readers dorm because he needed them to patch him up because training was tough and he decided to not go to recovery girl for some reason(basically just a patching up fic w izuku😭)

“NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HER.”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader.

summary: what the ask says :)

disclaimers: established realtionship, izuku is silly…. mentions of bones being broken/other injuries, that’s all i believe! reader is kinda suggested to be female…

a/n: AWWW this might be my favourite ask yet! thank u 🤍 i hope i wrote this exactly to your liking.

—-

izuku hated relying on others. he never liked being a bother, even to those who insist he can always go to them if he ever needs anything). it’s one of his flaws, he thinks.

carrying the weight of one for all on his shoulders constantly was a reminder just how much he needed to learn how to be more independent. the broken bones, harsh sparring with his classmates, recovery girl visits. he really needs to learn how to patch himself up…

currently, he sat in his own dorm. groaning to himself as he moved slightly, muscles incredibly sore. the boy slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing the bruises and small cuts he received after training for hours. as he lifted his hands up to brush his hair back, he got an idea. a very smart one!

“she wouldn’t be too mad, right?” izuku mumbled to himself as he sluggishly stood up, making his way to your dorm.

the walk was long and treacherous (it’s a minute walk). as izuku finally stood in front of your dorm, he thought about your reaction. you are a very caring person. you’ll definitely be easygoing about this!

-

“are you kidding me izuku?!” your jaw dropped at the sight of your disheveled boyfriend who only smiled sheepishly. you immediately turned into scolding y/n mode, rambling on and on about how he should take it easy.

“i knew you’d be a bit mad… i’m sorry.”

your boyfriends words made you falter in your speech as you took in the weight of the situation. he had simply gone too far in training.

instead of going to someone else, he came to you? the thought made you frown in a caring matter. you looked at him closely. his eyes glistened, looking like he’s more hurt about your reaction instead from his own wounds. his white shirt had splotches of grass and dirt on it. you couldn’t help but feel responsible for your lover in this moment. you knew he only worked hard to be stronger for you and himself.

“come in, no- don’t lay on that. your shirt is covered with dirt. take it off!” you spoke to him in a exaggerated tone.

izuku froze in his movements, thinking about what you just said to him. he’s not in middle school anymore, why is he getting flustered right now?! izuku curses teenage hormones for existing.

rather too quickly for his liking: izuku’s face flushed and he nervously toyed with his shirt, “take it off?!”

“yes. babe.” you looked at him with a puzzled expression, holding a small first aid kit in your hand (you made it for izuku at the very start of the school year after learning that he often injures himself). “i need to see where your hurt.”

“oh… right!”

it took him a minute to compose himself, his shyness taking over as he carefully took off his shirt. the act made you almost want to laugh as you’ve seen him without a shirt on multiple occasions.

your giggly mood was completely knocked away when you took in the sight of a rather red slash on his lower abdomen.

you moved towards your boyfriend who sat against your bed frame, legs spread as if anticipating you to settle yourself in between them. that’s exactly what you did.

“whoa, what the hell happened here?”

“landed on a piece of rock while jumping… scratched myself. i already did hydrotherapy like you said, i didn’t have the materials to do anything else though.”

you hummed at his words, picking up a antibiotic and placing it on izukus wound with your right hand. he hissed at the sting and you rubbed his side with your left hand in an attempt to comfort him. it worked. izuku relaxed at the feeling of your touch on his skin.

the room was quiet, lights slightly dim, as you worked. placing gauze and then bandage around his abdomen, wrapping it twice for good measure.

you looked up, softly grabbing your boyfriends face and turning it left to right.

izuku stared at you with his bright green eyes and you blushed under his stare. you felt him toy with the bottom of your top, fiddling with the material.

“stop distracting me, i’m trying to check for cuts.”

“sorry! you’re just so pretty… and a really good doctor.”

you let a grin and cackle slip at his words. he laughed at your reaction, watching you carefully as you stood up. you moved towards your wardrobe and opened a drawer. izuku tilted his head in wonder, what were you doing?

you pulled out a shirt and a pair of pj pants. izuku intrigued at the items. those were both his, when had he put them in your drawer?

“oh, you left them after you slept here. i just figured i should give your stuff its own drawer.”

izuku hadn’t realized he spoke out loud and he only stared at you in silent shock. you were too good for him.

you tossed the clothes towards him as he rested against your pillows, staring at you in adoration.

“what?” you plopped down beside him, nudging his bicep as he looked down at you.

“you’re too good for me. thank you.”

you lit up at his loving words. if there was one thing izuku was perfect at, it was making you feel loved unconditionally no matter what.

“oh stop, you’re too good for me.”

“we could argue about this for hours, just accept it.”

“um no! everyone knows you’re too good for me.”

“i’ll start rambling about you if you don’t stop.”

“… and who says i wouldn’t like that?”

izuku paused, a grin slowly creeping up on his face at your serious expression.

you cracked, turning into a laughing fit and he laughed with you, holding you in his arms. the pain that he felt in his muscles not too long ago had seemingly faded away as soon as he held you in his embrace. your warmth and love felt as though it healed him.

izuku hated relying on others. but, he knows no matter what — you’ll always make sure he knows he can rely on you for anything.

[shotmrmiller]

Valentine's day with Pathetic!Simon

You should've known Johnny had been serious when he talked to you that morning.

"LT's never had anyone to gift fer Valentine's. Just...let him give ye the flowers 'n accept the chocolates, aye?"

Simon stood in front of you, pinning you in place with his beady gaze, a bouquet of red roses in his clenched fist.

The ends of them look torn. You really hope he didn't just rip these off of someone's front yard.

He interrupts your inner musings by forcefully presenting them to you— velvet petals brushing your lips, causing you to jerk your head back slightly.

Allllrighty then.

Tenderly, you raise your hands and grab them— encircling the base of the rose just above his hold.

"Thank you for these, Simon. They're very beautiful," you croon. His delivery might be awkward, but you truly are grateful for them. Every individual rose is pristine, colours vibrant, stems strong and firm— not a brown petal nor wilted leaf in sight.

They're perfect.

Until your fingers are pricked by something pointed.

What?

You let go quickly and turn your hands up to inspect them. Sure enough, there's blood beading up on some of your fingertips, and the soft flesh of your palms.

And you grab Simon's wrist to lift the bouquet to eye level.

Thorns.

They're everywhere, and Simon's knuckles are white from how tight he's holding the roses.

"Jesus! Simon! You've got to be kidding me! Put them down!" As you let him go, you quickly spin around to fetch your first aid kit, but a forceful grip on your shoulder stops you in your tracks and spins you right back around.

"Just get a vase for them," he rumbles.

In disbelief, you protest, "What? No! You need—" but he swiftly interrupts you, his grip on your shoulder tightening marginally.

"What I need is f'you to get a vase." His firm response is resolute.

"O-okay, I...I er, got a few under the sink." With a silent stride, Simon stays close behind you, his hand that had touched your shoulder now curling around the back of your neck— only letting go when you reach for the sink base.

Placing it on the countertop, you ask him if he would now put them down.

"No. Fill it with water."

Simon nods when you do as he says, then drops them inside the vase— and you can't look away as red furls inside the once-clear water, turning it pink.

He clears his throat, catching your attention, and when you turn to face him, Simon's handing you something else.

It's a flattened snickers bar. You can see caramel peeking out from one corner, and the wrapper is streaked with some of his blood.

Delicately, you grab it with your thumb and index by the sticky edges and place it on a paper towel.

"How did you know that snickers are my favorite?" Simon doesn't answer, only looks at you unnervingly expectantly.

Right. Let him give me the flowers and chocolate.

"Thank you so much for all of this, Simon. Happy Valentine's Day."

He lets out a deep sigh (of relief?) and opens long arms. You walk up to him, wrap your arms around his waist— the side of your head flat on his broad chest— and let out an undignified squawk when you feel your spine pop as he returns the hug.

You blatantly ignore the bulge firmly pressing itself into the soft flesh of your lower stomach, and definitely don't think about how large it feels.

"Happy Valentine's Day, pet."

Later, Johnny laughs so hard that he cries when he sees the rust-colored streaks of blood on the Snickers wrapper.

"Simon's an intense man, what can ah say?"

[gurugirl]

1. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: You nanny for the Styles, but Harry and his wife would like to offer you another position.

A/N: This will be 3 parts. Based on this and this.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: 18+ only, smut (fingering)

The Unicorn Masterlist

“She’s perfect, Harry.” His wife watched out of the window as you walked to your car parked in front of their house.

“I don’t know. She’s taking care of the kids every day while we’re at work. How does that make her perfect?”

“Because look at her! And she’s so sweet and I just have a sense for these things. She acts all shy and innocent but I bet she’s kinky under it all. And haven’t you seen the way she looks at you?”

He had noticed your glances. The placement of your gaze over his frame. But Harry never thought too deeply about it. Not really. Though he kind of liked that you couldn’t help from dropping your gaze to his lips and then down over his shoulders and mid-torso until every time you breezed your pupils over the natural protrusion at the front of his crotch you were suddenly quickly reminded of what you were doing and bounced your head back just the tiniest bit to correct your sight to the more appropriate height.

But just because you were cute and couldn’t help when your eyes skimmed over his cock with the quickest peek didn’t mean you were perfect to invite into the bedroom with him and his wife. He was hesitant to find a third. He knew that it was unlikely this would end well but his wife had been begging him for it.

Kit was bisexual and once she married Harry, she learned that she often missed the more feminine touches and pretty soft curves. Someone more submissive. It had been almost 8 years since she’d slept with a woman so when she offered a threesome to Harry, she thought he’d jump right at the opportunity but instead, he was worried.

“I think this is a bad idea no matter who it is, but having it be the nanny is like…” he ran a ringed-clad hand through his hair, “… the worst. What if you don’t like seeing me with another woman? Or if I hate seeing you kiss anyone else? I don’t know if I can handle this. And poor Y/n is then stuck in the middle.”

“Harry,” she turned to him and put her hand on his forearm, “You and I are solid. I trust you and you trust me. I know you can handle this. Just the same as I can. I think this will be really good for us. Probably will just make us insatiable for each other. I’m already getting so turned on just thinking about watching you with her. And just imagine it, Harry, having us both laid out, spread legs…” She smoothed a hand up his arm and to the back of his neck, pressing herself close to his body, “You dip into her for a few thrusts and then pull out and—“

“Mom, can I have ice cream? Y/n said I had to wait til you and Dad were home.”

Harry and his wife laughed at the timing. They’d be returning to their conversation later.

.           .           .

You arrived bright and early Monday morning as requested. You loved nannying for the Styles. Mrs. Styles was so kind to you. She always made sure you had everything you needed and Mr. Styles was funny and easygoing. Plus the twins were a dream. You loved William and Warner as if they were your own.

“Morning, Y/n,” Mr. Styles smiled warmly at you as he opened the door. Warner walked up to you and hugged you. He was the one that liked hugs a lot.

“Morning Mr. Styles…” you laughed and patted Warner’s back, “and you too Warner.”

Mr. and Mrs. Styles left for work not long after but before they left they both asked you if you could stay after work that night. Mrs. Styles would make dinner and the three of you could have a glass of wine and chat a bit after the kids were put to bed.

Of course, you said you’d love to. Though you had kind of been looking forward to going home and watching your show, you wouldn’t mind having dinner with the Styles. The truth was you found Mr. Styles extremely attractive. He was the hottest guy you’d ever seen. He was married so he was obviously off limits but that didn’t stop your brain from short-circuiting every time you were near him.

And because of the way Mrs. Styles acted around you, almost flirty, you sort of had a crush on her too. You were interested in women but had never dated one. You’d only ever been in a couple of real relationships. You were too shy to approach people you found attractive so your pool of potential dates had been low.

So yeah, you’d accept their invitation for dinner.

.           .           .

“William made a picture today,” you rattled off a few things the boys did. The picture William drew was too cute and he even drew you in between Mr. and Mrs. Styles like you were part of the family.

He held it up proudly and Harry took it and pointed at the figure that was supposed to be you, “Who’s this, Will?”

“It’s Y/n,” he gestured to you.

Harry smiled at William and said how nice it was as he handed the paper back to him. He looked at you for a moment that felt a little warm and lingering before Mrs. Styles brought out the hot pan with food to the table.

When the table had grown quiet as everyone began to eat you wanted to remind Warner to tell his dad that he’d finally gotten the part down on the piano that Harry was teaching him.

“Warner, remember what you were supposed to tell Daddy today?”

When you looked at Harry with a smile you noticed the slightly surprised look on his face but by then it was too late. You hadn’t meant to let the word Daddy slip out like that. If you’d been thinking you’d have said “… supposed to tell your dad today?” Even the twins didn’t call Harry Daddy anymore.

And of course, Warner was already excitedly telling Harry about the part he’d learned on the piano before you could correct it. You hoped no one thought anything of it and while you’d fantasized about calling him Daddy a time or two, you really didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Darting your eyes from Harry to his wife you saw nothing from her at all as a reaction to your misspeak.

Luckily no one seemed bothered by it but you could tell Harry thought something by the surprised smile on his face.

You loved watching the boys interact with their parents. And being able to see it during dinner and then after clean up until they were in their beds with books to read quietly felt special.

Harry, his wife, and you sat in the living room with a bottle of wine. Mrs. Styles sat next to you and she started doing that thing where she looks at you in that way that gets your heart pounding and raises your temperature.

With her hand on your upper arm, she gushed about how much she and Harry loved you. How great of a nanny you were and how lucky they were to have found you.

Harry sat across from the couch in a leather armchair and watched you and Kit with a more solemn look on his face. He nodded at the end of his wife’s praise for you as he looked at you directly. You felt a shiver up your spine at the intensity of his eyes. But it wasn’t just that. There was something so formidable about him. Like he was governing over the moment. He was still Mr. Styles but with an edge of something uncertain. Darker.

You looked back at Mrs. Styles and smiled shyly, “Thank you. So much. I’m really happy to be working for you. And the twins are just amazing. I feel so lucky too.”

Kit’s hand smoothed down your forearm until she softly pushed her fingers through yours. She was sitting with her legs tucked under herself, feet on the couch, and knees angled toward you.

“Honey, you’re coming on too strong,” Harry chided his wife.

“No, I’m not. I’m just being friendly. Y/n is so sweet. I just…” she looked at you, “You don’t mind this do you?”

You loved the way she was looking at you. If you didn’t know any better you’d say she was hitting on you. That had to be wrong, though. Her husband was right there watching you two.

“It’s fine. I know you’re just being friendly.”

Harry laughed and shook his head and spoke his wife’s name in a warning, “Kit. Are you sure you want to do this?”

You looked between the pair. A little confused about what they were talking about. You didn’t know if you’d missed some dialogue somewhere or what but you were definitely picking up a vibe between them.

“If she’s up for it then yes, I’m sure.”

“Up for what?” You questioned them both.

Harry raised his brows and looked at his wife, “I’ll let you do the honors.”

Her hand squeezed at yours gently, bringing your attention back to her. Her other hand brushed over your knee with the tip of her fingers casually, “We think you’re very sweet and pretty, Y/n.” Kit began.

You kept your eyes on hers the best you could but she’d been wearing a low-cut dress and, not unlike the times you dropped your gaze to Harry’s crotch, you couldn’t help peeking at her cleavage with the same attempted deftness.

“And we think you might be fun to…” she paused and looked at Harry, who nodded at her to go on, “Have in bed. For us to share.”

You looked down at where Mrs. Styles was grazing your kneecap with her fingertip and whispered, “To share.”

That was quite a lot. If what she was saying was what you thought she was saying then you’d have to determine if it was worth it.

“You don’t have to say yes, Y/n.” Harry chimed in, “I know you’re a really sweet girl and you don’t want to disappoint anyone but if you tell us no we won’t be upset. You won’t lose your job.”

You were thankful he said that. It had flashed across your mind the idea that if you said no they might not want to keep you around.

“So, you’re like asking me to have a…” you gulped and looked between Harry and his wife, “like a threesome with you?”

“Yes. You don’t have to decide right now. And like Harry said, you don’t have to say yes. We just both find you very appealing and sweet. We’re very much attracted to you too and we trust you. I think we’d all work well together. It could be just a one-time thing or maybe it could be something we do regularly.”

The subject was changed shortly after. They’d done their part. They’d asked you what you thought and now the ball was in your court. You had to figure out what you wanted. Which made it hard to participate in the rest of the conversation. You tried but your brain was having a hard time moving past the things your imagination was coming up with.

“I hope you don’t feel weird after this. No rush to make a decision. Seriously.” Mrs. Styles smiled softly at you as she drew her fingers from the side of your jaw to under your chin delicately.

“Thank you. I just need some time to think.”

She leaned in and kissed your cheek as Harry stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder.

When you’d all finished the bottle of wine Harry and Kit walked you to the door. You still didn’t know what you wanted exactly. In a fun fantasy world (which you’d definitely be visiting in your imagination that night) it would be amazing. To have them both? Yes. That sounded so good. But the reality of it wouldn’t be that easy you knew. Would it be awkward to work for them after? And what if you did some kind of arrangement with them as their… what was it called? A unicorn?  

You felt breathless as you got into your car. You hadn’t had all that much wine. A glass and a half. The bottle was split between all three of you so none of you had gotten even close to drunk but you felt all buzzy. And even turned on. The idea of what they were offering sounded like a dream. But maybe that’s how it should remain. Just a dream. A fantasy.

.           .           .

The following day everything seemed normal. The Styles acted as if they hadn’t just asked if you’d want to have a threesome with them. It felt surreal. Like perhaps it never happened.

But when Harry arrived home first after work you felt like something about him was different. That’s when the cracks started forming. That morning he was friendly like he always was. But now he was brooding. His eyes were heavy on you. As if he was now looking at you differently.

He listened to William and Warner tell him about their day but you felt his eyes singing you as he kept looking your way. You felt intimidated by him suddenly and looking at him in increments longer than a few seconds felt like you’d dissolve.

He walked you to the door after you said goodbye to the boys and held the handle tight before turning it, “You wouldn’t want to stay for a drink would you?”

The way he asked you felt less like a question and more like a reminder to you of what was still left on the table. It was a reaffirmation of what was suggested the night before. It was real. It had happened and he was here to remind you.

You looked down at his hand grasped around his door handle and back up to him. You were compelled to say yes as you began to nod, “Yes. Okay.”

You felt nervous. Harry’s grin looked like he was pleased by your answer.

The boys were playing in their room as he poured you a glass of wine.

“When will Mrs. Styles come home?” It was rare that they weren’t home at nearly the same time after work.

“She’s going out with a friend tonight. She’ll be late. I thought you and I could get to know one another a little better. She knows I planned on asking you to stay. I’m glad you did.”

You nodded and felt your nerves only grow. Alone time with Mr. Styles wasn’t something that ever really happened much. Normally Harry was with his wife when he discussed anything with you.

You both sat on the large couch in the living room as Harry lifted his glass toward yours, clinking them together.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” Harry had one leg draped over his other casually as he looked down at you.

“Uh… I don’t have any. Normally I just make last-minute plans with friends,” you squirmed in your spot at the way he was consuming you with his eyes.

“Maybe if you find you’re free you could come over Saturday afternoon. The kids will be staying with their grandparents. Kit will be making something special for dinner.”

“Oh, that sounds nice. Yeah. I mean, as long as it’s not imposing,” you were growing hot. Your palms were sweating. Harry was so attractive it was making your body weak. You honestly didn’t care what would be made for dinner but you were curious about where the night might lead if you did wind up in their house without their kids around all night.

“Of course, you wouldn’t be imposing. You’d be the guest of honor,” Harry’s arm slid over the back of the cushion behind you, and you gulped nervously.

“Oh, that’s…” you breathed out a jittery laugh, “… not necessary. No need to do anything special for me.”

“I hope you know that anything that happens, we’d always make it special for you, Y/n. We want you to feel comfortable.”

You could feel the temperature around your body rise with his proximity. You had noted how he’d inched his way a bit closer.

“Thank you, Harry. You and Mrs. Styles are always so nice to me.”

You were visibly nervous. Harry could see it too.

His wife had suggested that he invite you to stay for a drink and more if you allowed it. She really wanted to try any angle to get you to say yes to their offer. She figured if you were alone with Harry for a bit maybe you’d feel more comfortable. So, Harry was working on just that. And the more he thought about you and his wife’s convincing argument to bring in a third, he found he was more and more into the idea.

Plus you were simply the sweetest thing. He could see that you were a little timid and somehow that made his body respond to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. It set his blood to a low boil. His wife was lovely. Amazing in bed but it was true that with her there was something missing. He rarely got the opportunity to dominate his wife and really release his natural inclination to flex his prowess with her. Because she was dominant as well. And Harry didn’t mind it for the most part. But he missed certain things.

“We’d like to be more than just nice to you, darling,” his fingers behind you softly brushed against your neck and you inhaled shallowly at the contact. “But you already know what we want. How about you? What do you want, Y/n?”

You fluttered your eyes closed for a moment as you felt the pad of Harry’s thumb slide up your neck. Harry’s cologne and his natural scent were so appealing. You turned to look at him and worked up your nerve, “I think it sounds really fun. The offer. I’ve never been with a woman.”

He licked his lips, “You’ve experienced men, then, yeah?”

You nodded. You were sure he could see you physically melt.

“What do you like, Y/n?”

You had not expected the conversation to go this way, “I don’t… I’m not sure. I’ve not really done a lot. Nothing too crazy,” you laughed your words in embarrassment.

Harry’s soft petting on your neck continued, “That’s okay. We can figure it out as we go. To be honest, we’ve never done anything like this either.”

“And Mrs. Styles? Has she been with women?”

Harry nodded, “Yes. This was her idea actually. She’s been missing a feminine presence in bed.”

You felt the trickle of lust and carnal need swell in your body as Harry drew his free hand across his body and to your knee, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on his. You wanted to lean forward and grab your glass of wine and gulp the whole thing in one go but you wouldn’t dare break from his hold. It was intimate and having his hands on you was satisfying.

Harry looked toward the hallway and then back to you, “I’d like to kiss you. Y/n. Are you comfortable with letting me kiss you?”

His lips felt like they’d burst into flames if he didn’t press them into yours. But he couldn’t do that in front of the twins because he knew that once he felt your mouth and your tongue he was going to want more and if you were open to it he’d take it even further. His wife had given him permission as long as he was discreet (not in front of the boys). No sex without her present but some heavy petting and fingering were fine.

“Okay,” you breathed and expected him to kiss you right then as you braced yourself.

“Yeah?” He squeezed your thigh and tilted his head as he looked down over your body, “Go into my bedroom. I’ll be right there.”

You were shaky as you stood up and watched Harry walk away to talk to the twins in their room. The boys were old enough that they’d play by themselves just fine, you knew. You lifted your glass of wine to your lips and gulped half at once. You couldn’t even remember walking to the master bedroom upstairs. Your mind was a swirl of what-ifs and scenarios and questions.

“Are you okay?” Harry said as he closed the door behind himself. Everything was happening in slow motion. You were trying not to feel so floaty and far away but you couldn’t help it. Your experience with sex had been minimal and you certainly had never pictured yourself as part of this situation.

“I’m just nervous. I’m always like this the first time…” You swallowed and looked at the edge of the dresser against the wall.

“That’s okay,” Harry stepped in front of you and rubbed his hands down your arms, “I’m a little nervous too but I really want to kiss you. Just didn’t want the boys to see.”

You nodded in understanding, “And it’s okay with Mrs. Styles?”

His hands slowly grazed up your arms to your shoulders and then around to the back of your neck and head, “Her idea. But in all honesty, I want to kiss you. Feel like I need to.”

Blinking your eyes you raised your arms to hold onto his biceps as you kept your eyes pinned to his. He was solid under your hand. Of course, he was. You knew Mr. Styles was fit and you’d seen him in shorts and t-shirts and once glimpsed his pecs. You knew he had tattoos.

But when he finally nudged his nose to yours and his hot lips wrapped around your mouth everything went from being slow motion and blurry to high speed and heart pounding. You couldn’t get enough of his mouth and his tongue and you gripped his arms until he’d practically lifted you off your feet and pulled you to his bed.

His kisses were wet and warm and he moaned into your mouth. He was ravenous. It made you feel like a seductress, like he craved you.

You were across his lap and twisted to face him with your arms over his shoulders and your tongue pressed to his when he cupped your face and parted from the kiss.

“Y/n… Fuck honey…” he dabbed a kiss to your jaw and then looked back at you, “Can I get your pants off? Make you feel good? No sex tonight,” his words were deep and thick, “That’s for Saturday. But for now,” he ran a hand up your thigh up to your hip, “I can give you a preview with my fingers. If you want.”

“Yes, Harry,” you breathed your words and tried to lean back in for another kiss but he kept you at a distance, his hands on your jaw and fingers cradling the back of your head.

“I really liked it when you referred to me as Daddy last night. Will you do that for me again, honey?”

See. That was the thing. You already thought of him as Daddy. In all your private fantasies you called him Daddy. But it made you nervous because you fantasized about Harry far more than you ever did his wife. Kit was beautiful and she was definitely your type but Harry dominated your secret daydreams. So it would be easy for you to call him Daddy. But it worried you when it came to having his wife included in that dynamic.

“Is that okay? I mean,” you sighed breathily, “Will Mrs. Styles be okay if I call you Daddy?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind,” Harry licked his lips, “Tell you what. Tonight, call me Daddy because I want to hear your sweet voice say it when I finger you, okay? I’ll talk to her and let her know I asked you to and I think she won’t care but if she doesn’t like it we won’t do it again.”

You nodded. Daddy it was. That would be easy.

Harry brought an arm to your low back and leaned you down onto his bed. The bed he shared with his wife. With his knees dug into the bed next to your hip he loomed over you and brought a gentle hand up to the front of your neck and pressed, “How does this feel? Is this okay?”

It was a first for you. To have someone’s hand on your throat. It was a surprise. But the good kind. You loved how small it made you feel and how powerless. You knew if you asked him to remove his hand he would but the notion that you were physically relinquishing your power to him was so hot to you somehow.

“It’s good,” you breathed just before he inched down to kiss you again.

It felt absolutely nuts what you were doing. Making out with your boss, a married man, in his bedroom while his wife who was away gave him permission and even encouraged this situation.

Harry’s hand slid off of your neck and down your t-shirt, “Can we take this off? All of it? So I can see you?”

You nodded, “Yes,” and sat up so you could pull your shirt over your head. Harry unbuttoned his own and watched you unzip your pants and tuck your fingers inside the waistband before lifting your bum to pull them down your legs.

With his shirt unbuttoned you saw more tattoos. You’d paused for just a moment when you took note of his bare chest and abs.

Harry got to his knees and leaned over you, his hands on either side of your hips, “Do you need help with this?”

He put his hands over yours where you were grasping your waistband and helped you pull them off your legs.

His hands found your calves as he looked at you, “You’re so pretty, Y/n. Take your bra off.”

So you did. Unhooking the back and letting the front fall down your arms. Harry’s hands found their spot on either side of your hips again as he softly kissed each of your nipples, “Beautiful. Can I take your panties off?” His fingers were already dancing over the fabric of your waistband, knowing you’d be saying yes.

You gulped and nodded as he dragged the material down your legs, rendering you completely nude. Harry let out a breath as he raked his eyes over skin and curve and freckle.

Harry lay next to you and took your hand in his, bringing it up between you on the mattress, “You still doing okay, Y/n?”

You were feeling very vulnerable and insane for laying completely naked next to him but still you nodded. Because you wanted more of what he was doing.

You rolled to face him on your side when he smeared his mouth over yours. Letting go of your hand he moved his fingers down over your side to your hip and then upper thigh just at the curve of your ass. He squeezed softly but enough that you could feel his big palm grasping your flesh. You lifted your thigh to mantle his hip out of instinct and his palm spread out over the globe of your cheek.

“Want my fingers, honey?”

The way the tips of his fingers were grazing so close to your pussy with your leg draped over him you were losing your mind. All he had to do was lower an inch and he’d feel your wetness.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Harry moaned and moved his head back to look at you, “Oh I really like how that sounds. Let’s have a look then,” he ran his hand over your hip to the front of your tummy as he moved back the tiniest bit to press his fingers over your mound. Slowly his fingers lowered until he met soft wet lips. He breathed in through his teeth, “You all wet for Daddy?”

The smile on his face was cocky but you loved it.

“Yes,” you bit your lip.

With his eyes on yours, he parted your labia with two fingers and slowly ran them down to your opening and then back up until he bumped your clit and pressed over that. You moaned softly.

He was easy with his fingers on you as he kept slipping them up and down, pushing your arousal through your crease and getting his fingers coated.

When he captured your lips in his again you felt him prodding at your entrance. You sucked his tongue into your mouth and he pressed two fingers inside as you grasped onto his shoulder.

You groaned as he fingered you and fixated on the spongy dip inside. You bucked into his hand, “There we go. Feels good doesn’t it?”

You panted yesssss.

The sloppy noises that were coming from between your legs would have been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.

“Please,” you breathed as you lowered your hand to his hip, “I wanna see.”

Harry kept thrusting into you with his fingers while his thumb smoothed against your clit, “You can on Saturday, baby. For now, this is all about you.”

You whined and closed your watery eyes as he began to fuck into you faster. His palm was a sticky mess. You raised your hip and rutted into his hand harder.

“You’re gonna grip me so tight and I’m gonna push inside you deep,” he punctuated his words with his thrusts, “Have you creaming all over my cock.”

Your groans grew louder as he pasted his mouth to your neck and you felt the warm press of his tongue on your skin, his curls brushing against your jaw. He shifted so that suddenly you were on your back and he was on his side with his fingers still inside of you, lips on your breasts.

He felt so good and you were already so caught up in the way he was making you feel you’d all but forgotten that this man was married and he was your boss. This was better than your fantasies. He was more confident and a lot more dominant in reality. And just sweet enough that you felt safe.

Harry lifted upward slightly, still pumping his fingers through you causing you to let out a small squeal. You felt his hand cover your mouth and you peeled your eyes open as he lowered his lips to your tits, his fingers plowing through your walls. You were being too loud.

He peered up at you with his tongue gliding over your nipple, his shoulder flexing with each thrust of his arm. Yes, this was definitely better than fantasy. Because it was happening and it felt so good.

You felt his lips slip off the skin of your nipple, “If I take my hand off, you gonna keep quiet?”

 Nodding your head you softly moaned into his hand. He pulled his hand away from your mouth and leaned over you to kiss your mouth. Softly at first. It felt like candy-flavored pink sparkle dust magic with his warm lips smoothing against yours, and his nose mushing into your nose.

“Daddy, please…” you breathed as he lifted himself to look down at you.

“What baby?” The sound of your wet pussy getting fingered was the backdrop of you beginning to unravel.

“M’gonna come… Daddy, ffuu– ohhh!” Your mouth was quickly covered again when your volume grew even louder than it had been. You heard Harry softly chuckle just as you clenched around his fingers and grasped his forearm, your neck stretched over the pillow as you arched your back.

Harry looked down at his hand and groaned at how your pussy was devouring his fingers. He couldn’t wait to see what his cock would look like sinking into your perfect cunt. And he thought you were pretty when you orgasmed. He was sure he’d want to make you come over and over again if his wife wasn’t too greedy with you.

“Such a good little girl, Y/n. There you go, baby.” He smirked at you, his fingers still slipping into you, squelching when he buried them in all the way.

“This what you needed? Needed to come on Daddy’s fingers?” Your soft moan was muffled as you finally set your gaze back on Harry who was already looking at you.

“Just imagine how good it’s gonna feel on my cock.” He slid his thumb over your clit and you jolted from sensitivity.

Harry took his hand off your mouth and slowly pulled his fingers from your pussy as he sat back, stuffing his fingers into his mouth to taste you. He could smell your pussy as he was fingering you and couldn’t wait to get a taste.

Popping his fingers out of his mouth he caged you into your spot on the mattress, hovering over you, “How was that?”

“So good,” you were still taking in labored breaths.

His mouth encased yours once again. His kiss was lustful and fiery. You could smell yourself when he cradled your head, his fingers, still damp with you, swiping into strands of your hair.

A deep moan fell from his chest and you pulled your arms over his shoulders and the cotton of his shirt. Your body began to ignite again just before he parted from your mouth with a gasp.

“I’m sorry. Got carried away. Your lips are so sweet,” his voice was deep and breathy. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded and smiled.

Harry insisted on helping you clean up. First, you peed but then he came in and wet a towel to help wipe you and talk to make sure you were okay.

You could tell he had a boner. The front of his trousers was bulged in an obvious way. His pupils were dark and his skin was hot. And you would have loved to have him use you however he wanted to take care of himself but you wouldn’t go against his Kit’s wishes.

“So, Saturday? You sure you want to come over?” Harry handed you the clothes he’d picked up from the floor and his bed.

“Yeah. I’d like to.”

Harry cupped your jaw and smudged your cheekbone with his thumb, “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

He walked you out to your car and squeezed your hand before dropping it. It felt strange. Like you’d just gotten away with something so immoral and improper but you were elated.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Y/n. Drive safe.”

“Okay. Thank you, Da–“ your eyes widened and you felt your whole body wash in heat as you tried to correct your near-fatal error, “Ha- Harry.”

The grin on his face with smiling dimples told you that he didn’t mind, “Night, sweet girl.”

Part 2

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[emilys-bangs]

Andromeda 50 perhaps?

Thank you for requesting <3 this is the prompt “I think you’re beautiful.”

Part of the 200 celebration

Word count: 0.9k

warning: mentions of blood and nosebleeds

The bathroom lights must be harsh on Emily’s eyes. You guess so, because she blinks rapidly, wetness lining her lash line and occasionally dipping outside her eyes, smearing her usually meticulous mascara.

The tissue she’s holding to her nose is already soaked through with red, so you grab another one and gently nudge her hand away. Emily tosses the sodden tissue in the trash, wincing when the fresh one nestles above her cupid’s bow even though you try your hardest to keep your touch light.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your stomach flipping with equal parts nausea and anger. Not at the blood, but at the way her face twists despite her best efforts, one of her hands clenched around the ceramic edge of the sink, her knuckles forming white stars beneath her skin.

And the anger, it rushes restlessly in time with your blood.

You hadn’t been there when the volatile suspect jumped at her in the interrogation room, his fist colliding with her nose because of her provocations. You had been with JJ, trying to calm the restless media that gathered around the precinct, hungry for the identity of the man that tormented their city for weeks. 

Now you only wish you could’ve been there, to repay him the favor yourself.

“S’okay,” Emily mumbles. She leans back against the counter even though you’ve told her to stay upright, but you let it slide. Her fingers take over, holding the tissue gingerly in place, and your own hand falls away.

You can feel her staring as you grab the ice pack you’d gotten her from a first aid kit and pop it, the heat of her gaze steady on your cheeks as cold spreads across your hands. You don’t shy away from her eyes as you gently hold the ice pack to the swollen bridge of her nose.

“Why are you staring?” 

Though it’s meant to sound light and teasing, it isn’t. Your voice is too hushed, your hands too tender as you carefully try to press the ice pack to the bruised skin under her eyes.

Emily finally drops her gaze as she lifts the tissue from her septum. This one is not as soaked with blood, but she still tosses it away and grabs another piece you’d torn out for her. 

“Jus’ waiting for you to run away.” She says, the words muffled into the tissue. Her voice is not the silken honey it usually is; it’s nasal, stuffy as if she’s sick, but it still twists your heart all the same.

“Why would I?” You ask quietly.

Emily’s eyes meet yours again and she shrugs, the fluorescent lights swirling in the depths of endless brown. “’m kinda scary to look at.”

The harsh lights overhead are unforgiving. Everything is thrown into sharp relief; Emily’s swollen nose, her runny mascara and the purple bruising creeping under her eyes. She’s pale from the blood loss, the blues and yellows and purples made all the more clear on her ashy face. There’s blood smeared on her fingertips, seeping through the tissue she’s holding to her nose. Her eyes, wide and hazy with pain, are a little bloodshot, red webbing through the white similarly to lightning.

Scary, the word echoes. Maybe to someone else. 

But not to you.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

It’s immediately noticeable, the red that spreads across her cheeks. Pale skin turns pink and Emily hides again, her eyes leaving yours to latch onto something a lot more interesting on the floor.

“I think,” she mumbles, tossing the almost clean tissue into the trash, “that may be an unpopular opinion at this time.”

You shrug as you lift the ice pack from the bridge of her nose and set it back down on the counter. “I’ve never cared much about what people consider to be popular or unpopular.” Grabbing the last piece of tissue, you wet it and gently swipe the drying blood from the crevices around her nose. Red blooms on the tissue as you wipe her skin clean.

Emily’s breaths come harshly, fanning across your hand in hot clouds. You frown and stop, lifting your hand away.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She rasps. Her mouth drops open and she sucks in a breath, long and deep, “Just can’t breathe very well.”

You chew on your lip. “Do you want some paracetamol? I’ve got some in my bag.” Truthfully, you don’t even know what help it could do, but you feel almost jittery with the need to offer something.

Jerkily, Emily shakes her head. “I’m fine. Thanks. Uh, usually it takes a while b’fore I can breathe again.”

Your brow raises. “So this happened before, then?”

“Hmm.” She hums, the sound brief before she takes in another breath through her open mouth. Grabbing the ice pack from the counter, you slip it into your pocket and toss the soiled tissue away.

“Come on,” you grab her arm and gently get her to straighten. “It’s better if you sit down, don’t want you toppling over.”

A stuffy huff leaves her lips. “From a nosebleed?” Emily’s voice is teasing as she lets you drag her out of the bathroom. Your hand reaches down for hers and you tangle your fingers together, abruptly making her shut up.

“Yes,” you say, firm as you pull her down the hallway, “from a nosebleed. Got any objections?” You turn to face her.

Emily swallows and shakes her head. 

Yes, even like this she’s unbearably beautiful, a fierceness to her that is entirely at odds with the softness of her hand in yours. The blush on her cheeks still isn’t gone, and when she lightly squeezes your fingertips, you feel a similar one creep up your neck.

“None.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[spideyhexx]

12 am thoughts with kit;

in vain with this. cw; stepcest

Coryo needs to burn his entire brain at this point because it is practically a death sentence living with you.

It's not either of your faults you hooked up over a year ago, right? It's not either of your faults your parents met. You both told each other it would be easy. Too much time passed. The physical attraction was gone, blah blah blah.

Yet he's still here, night after night, in his shower before bed, fisting his cock at the thought of you and only you.

He tried so hard. Coriolanus attempted thinking of someone else. Of seeking out a one night stand to make him move on but he couldn't even commit to going home with someone without being reminded that's what he did with you.

So soon enough, he says fuck it to the debauchery and freely thinks of you. There's no harm in a fantasy. And he has tons with you, naturally. It's not his fault you give him so much material, he has to rub one out.

He feels truly fucked over when he sees you outside in the backyard, swimming in your cute swimsuit, and he has to go lock himself up in his bedroom.

He barely makes it to his bed, pulling his dick out and rubbing himself to get harder faster. The more he prolongs it, the more he doubts himself, so Coriolanus always tries to make it quick. He starts thinking about being in that pool with you, unable to hide his hard on. He's convinced if you saw it, you would reflect the desire in his eyes.

He spits into his hands then spreads the saliva on his cock, sitting on the edge of his bed, pushing at his slacks more. His thumb rubs over the tip and his eyes flutter. With his head tilted down, he spits on himself against, wanting it to feel as messy as possible.

Maybe you'd corner him against the edge of the pool, rub your hands on his chest. Press your hand to his crotch and squeeze.

He remembers how much you teased him even in one small night together. So he imagines you'd simply lift yourself out of the pool, giving him the best view of your ass before walking away, a knowing smirk on your face because of course he was gonna follow you.

Coriolanus leans his back to his bed, fisting himself, his other hand tangling in his hair to pull. He knows you'd pull harder. His mind jumps to running out of the pool, crowding you in against the outside bar, tugging your bottoms to the slide and sliding right into you because of course you're wet for him.

His hand pauses on his cock as he wonders if you think about him like this.

Fuck it.

He tugs his pants back up, adjusting himself the best he can. Coriolanus assesses his appearance in his mirror and deems it enough discretion before he opens his door.

He turns the hall corner and collides right with you. "You never watch where you're going," you mumble at him, fixing the towel over your body.

Coriolanus bites back his usual snark once he sees your gaze drop to his bulge, then back to his eyes.

There's a small moment of silence before you move forward to continue to your room, shoulder checking in the process. He couldn't say anything.

Coriolanus curses to himself then retreats to his bedroom to finish what he was doing. At least he tried. Did he try?

Your heart is beating so fast as you get to your room, the memory of him pounding you into your mattress has definitely not left your mind. You've both been so good. So good at avoiding any sexual situations. But he was hard. He may have tried to hide it but he was. You're sure he meant for you to see it, but maybe he didn't. Either way, you wish you were on top of him, grinding your bare cunt to the fabric of his stupidly soft slacks that make the outline of his dick perfect.

It's completely his fault that you get in bed, half wet from the pool and your towel beneath you, hand pushed into your bottoms to tease your fingers at your hole. They're not enough. But you can't knock on his door. You wish you dropped to your knees for him right there No, you wish you pushed him to the wall and kissed his stupid face. Or pulled on his hand to bring him to your room. He would've followed like a puppy.

Is he jerking off right now? Was he jerking off? What got him hard? Another girl? Porn? You? It's hard to push away any thoughts of him, but you will yourself to calm down, turning onto your stomach and rubbing your clit instead of using your fingers. Again, not enough.

You grind onto your hand, pushing your face into the pillow, imagining Coryo knelt behind you, his tongue lapping into you because he's big and "needs to prepare you." You remember his cocky words all too well but he was right.

You're so washed away in the fantasy, the knock at your door doesn't stop you from rubbing your clit in tight, fast circles. "What?" You yell out, hoping you don't sound shaky.

"Dinner will be ready in ten," Coryo's voice booms from the other side of the door. The slight uninterested tone and and voice you missed hearing right at your ear sets you off, your orgasm washing over you. You push your face into your pillow to hide any quiet moans you couldn't keep in, rubbing yourself until the feeling has passed completely, and you calm. Settle yourself to the bed.

It's fine. Right?

[chaosandmarigolds]

pięć 🚑

Of EMS AU Thingy!

summary: Simon Riley finds himself utterly and completely in love with the newest medic on base, the only issue is that he has the social skills of a toddler.

“Mary I promise, I’m not incompetent-“

“never said you were!!” She counteracts, rummaging through the kit, stating she had a blood pressure cuff in there, “Just…you’re a baby.”

You frown, “I’ve been a paramedic for five years, hardly-“

“Gunshot wound to the upper anterior leg, what do you do?” The question was lifeless, as if she had been planning this for a long while. She leaned on the counter as she watched the color drain from your face for a moment, of course she knew that you were capable, yet she also knew you were a dear in a headlights, “Knife to the lumbar spine, what do you do? Solider is 35 year old male, 260 pounds of pure muscle plus gear and you do not have a lift assist.”

“I-“

“oh you’re also in an active warzone so you falter you get shot, stitch.”

you gulp, you had been in New York as a paramedic for years, you had seen some horrible things but…you were also aware you were walking into murky waters, “Mary, I-“

She frowned to your words and turns back to her bag, “The team as a EMS refresher at 0700, tourniquets, packing, and anything else they have in their itty bitty first aid kit. I’ll be on a plane, you take care of it.”

with a huff you run your hands down your face as you move to grab your kit, the large backpack fit easily weighing upward to fifty pounds. You end up standing in your spot for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say next. However, you no longer cared on if Mary thought you stupid or not, you cared much more on the refresher course.

“Who…do we have a dummy?”

She scoffs, “No. You’re the patient, layer up.”

…oh.

—

Kyle Garrick was arguably one of the nicer (looking) personalities on base, he seemed genuine in his actions- or so you thought, as did he. If not a bit overbearing, thought he did not mean to, so when he saw you walking down the corridor with arms full, he offered to take some, simply because he wanted to be kind-nothing else.

“How are ya finding it?”

You let out a breathy laugh as you wait for the door to open, “Do you want an honest answer or one that makes me seem better?”

he feigns thoughtfulness and hums, “I’d say…honest.”

“Overwhelmed. But hey!” You were mainly rambling to the poor man, and when you get to the gym you drop the obscure items onto the table, where he followed- to where you were speaking face to face, “It could be a lot worse right?”

Kyle shrugs to your words, a smile on his features and he pats your shoulder, “You seem capable. The trainee fore you slept through an OP so..you’re doing good.”

great, you’re better than someone who slept through a mission that seemed like the lowest form of compliment but you would take it. “Awesome, well thank you, um…where is the Captain, Lieutenant and sergeant?”

“Well you’re looking at a Sergeant.”

a smile tugged at your lips and you look down, “I mean MacTavish, though I do suppose I have one accounted for.”

Kyle then motioned to the other side of the gym, which you hadn’t bothered to turn on the full lights as of yet, “LT is over there.”

that was one of the oddest sentences you had heard, so you frown and move to turn on the light, and sure enough you find the lieutenant casually sitting in the darkness, a book neatly folded on his lap. To the sight you furrow your eyebrows, “Should I ask, Lieutenant?”

He shook his head, standing up as he spoke, “No, probably not. Scare ya lil’ medic heart.” (He got there ten minutes before you and the lights were motion activated)

You laughed to that, not a real one though, more of petrified squeak, “Okay! Anyway! Where’s MacTa-“ just as you were speaking the door buzzed open and the very people you were speaking about came in, looking somewhat exhausted and barely awaken begrudgingly they grab the fold out chairs from the closet and sit down, and you would admit it was somewhat funny to see Johnny so…quiet. As you turn just double check everything was neat you didn’t see the slight fight, more like nudges between Johnny the Lieutenant, until he was tire of it and pulled the chair back and replaced it with his own. So when you turned around you saw a straight line of chairs, but for Johnny, who was now behind the Lieutenant, who was now directly in front of you.

You’ve been patient before, during paramedic school you wanted to be the patient. it was fun, now however you had a genuine worry if their tourniquet would just snap your leg off.

This will be fun.

(all I got! Comments and all that jazz mean so much to me, toodles!)

[heavenlyakin]

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem!Reader 

tw: modern au (sanemi is a boxer), established relationship, mention of blood, smut. Not edited. minors and blank blogs dni

wc: 1.2k 

network: @enchantedforest-network

–

When he enters the house, you’re standing over the counter, chopping a carrot. 

The sight of blood makes you stop in your tracks. Dropping the knife, you take a moment to examine the blood stains on his green pants, the white of his top also smeared with streaks of red, but he stands as if he’s uninjured. 

“You’re home,” your voice is soft, barely a gasp. 

He smiles at you, dropping his gloves by his shoes. “I’m home,” he replies, excellent hearing as usual. 

You follow him to the bathroom, watching as he strips from the bloody clothing. He must have beaten the shit out of someone tonight, or he got in another fight on his way home. Either way, the facts are still that your partner of several years is covered in blood, again. 

“Are you not tired of it?” You ask, helping him shed his shirt, and draping it over the laundry basket so you can treat the white with bleach spray before you wash it. 

He laughs, “Don’t ask stupid questions.” 

As he turns to face you, you notice a cut above his left nipple, small but still bleeding. “Let me treat that,” you sigh, grabbing the first aid kit from the shelf beside the towels. He closes the toilet seat, sits down atop it, and grins at you as you sit on the edge of the bathtub. 

“You know,” he says after a few minutes of you dabbing alcohol on his cut with a cotton swab, “somewhere else needs some attention.” His pale eyes drift down to his crotch, where he’s visibly hard. 

You smile, heat creeping across your cheeks. “You’ll be lucky if I even kiss you after making me wait all night for you.” 

“Honey,” he smiles, lifting your chin to make you look at his face. “I made it home before dinner. You can’t be that mad at me.” 

“Shut up,” you smack his hand away. “Let me bandage this cut then we’ll see about that.” Your eyes drag back down to his erection and his lips curl into a smirk. He relaxes now. 

“Thank you,” he kisses your cheek as you place a pink bandaid over the cut. 

You pull him closer, into you and against your lips. 

He doesn’t react at first, but then he’s devouring you. His arms around your frame, his fingertips digging into your skin, his body melding with yours as if he can’t get close enough. You bite his bottom lip, pulling a deep sound from his throat. 

He pushes you back, guiding you to the bedroom down the hall from the bathroom. The sound of something crashing and shattering on the ground goes unnoticed as your shirt is tossed on the floor. Sanemi’s rough hands palm at your breasts through your bra. 

Your thighs hit the bed, and you drop down onto it, looking up at your boyfriend. You kiss his stomach, just above his belly button, while you slip your hand into his boxers. He sucks in a fast breath, tilting his head back as you stroke your hand down his cock. 

“-----,” he groans your name. “Don’t tease me like that,” he looks down at you as you’re getting on your knees in front of him. 

“Tease you?” You say as innocently as possible as you slide the boxers down his thighs. 

“God,” he brushes his hair back from his face as your lips wrap around his cock. 

He groans as your tongue swirls around the tip, his body reacting with a shiver. You grab the back of his right thigh with your hand, holding him still as you take more of him in your mouth. Your free hand squeezes him softly before you use the spit drooling down him to stroke his length as you start bobbing your head. 

It’s only a few minutes of this before he’s pulling you up to him, his tongue flooding your mouth as he strips you down until you’re bare under him on the bed. His lips are all over you. Your lips, your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders, your breasts, and down down down until he’s between your legs. 

Your fingers grip the bedding as his tongue drags down your cunt and teases everywhere but your clit. He likes to play this game, but you’re in no mood today. You sit up on your elbows, looking down at him. 

“Can’t find it?” You smirk, cupping his cheek as he frowns at you. 

“Really?” He deadpans. 

“You get knocked around an awful lot, so it’s understandable if you’ve forgotten…” 

“I don’t get knocked around that much,” he rolls his eyes, his mouth connecting with your cunt again and his tongue flicking your clit as if to prove a point. 

You moan, falling back onto the bed and letting him prove the point.

A very good point. 

Two of his fingers slip inside you, stretching inside of you to pull an even louder moan. Between his lips and fingers, you come undone, cumming against his mouth as he laps at you like you’re his favorite dessert. 

The second his mouth detaches from you, you pull him up to kiss you. The taste of you on his lips still. He bites your bottom lip, making you open your mouth more for him. As he sucks on your tongue, you moan again. 

You push him over, forcing him to lay on his back. You straddle him, grinding your cunt down against the length of his cock, the slickness allowing you to glide up and down him smoothly. He groans, his fingertips digging into your hips to guide you. 

Reaching between you, you take his cock in your hand and guide it to your hole, sliding down on him slowly. A small moan escapes your lips, him mimicking you. The first few times are slow, and calculated. You enjoy the way his face contours in pleasure as you ride him this way. 

However, Sanemi isn’t patient. He grabs your hips sternly, fucking up into you hard and fast, making you bounce more than you had intended this to go. You lean down, kissing him, biting his neck, sucking on it too, leaving a pale bruise you know will darken. 

“Fuck,” you moan against his neck, sitting back up and placing your hands on his chest.

He’s so toned and so pretty to look at. The scars that gather across his body are all reminders of the times you’ve helped patch him up over the years, mentally and physically. 

“Gonna cum again, baby?” His eyes shine as they look at you. 

You nod, biting your lip as you slow down, Sanemi letting you take over again. You drag the orgasm out of him, cumming with him as your head spins. You collapse beside him, him turning to lay on his side, propping his head up on his hand. 

“You’re beautiful when you cum,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. 

You laugh, pushing him away. “Stop trying to suck up to me.” 

He grins, “Just tryna butter you up so we can order pizza instead of whatever the carrot was going to be used for.” 

“I’ll shove it up your ass if you don’t watch it!” You tease, grabbing one of his shirts to slip into while you search for your phone to order pizza.

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Bullet wounds and love letters - Joel Miller Imagine

Synopsis: when you’re investigating a weird noise in your base for the night, Joel finds himself being brought back to the night he lost Sarah.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of slight gore, injury, and I think that’s it

Click.

You heard the gun cock before anything else. Joel and Ellie were both asleep when you heard someone moving around in the building you guys were staying in for the night. You of course had your gun on you, but the two raiders had you outnumbered.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as they demanded you give them all the food that you had. You slowly took off your pack and slid them all the food that was in there, your movements slow. You knew that you couldn’t beat both of them, so you were just trying to keep the peace right now.

They greedily took the food and then looked you over, a sick smile on their lips. “Please don’t…” Your words were a small whimper as they shared wicked gazes, the gun now pointing at your abdomen. “Good luck, princess.” That’s when the gun went off and you felt pain shoot through your abdomen, falling to your knees as you put your hand over the wound. It was bleeding profusely, a strangled sob leaving your lips.

The raiders had decided to walk off, convinced they would wake any infected that was around. “Y/N? I heard a - Fuck.” Ellie’s voice could be heard as you tried to hold the blood in, giving her a slightly scared smile. “Ellie, I need you to go get our first aid kit, okay?” Your words were shaky as she nodded and took off running, yelling for Joel. Tears kept slipping down your cheeks as you slowly fell down to the floor, the pain coursing through every single inch of your body now. It was making you feel extremely weak. Your breaths felt more and more shallow as the seconds passed, your hands covering the wound as your head laid back against the floor. Leave it to you to survive the worst of the apocalypse but be killed by raiders. It was just your luck.

“Baby…” Joel’s voice felt like it was a hundred miles away as he ran over to you and immediately dropped to his knees as Ellie ran up behind him and she dropped the kit at your side. He started to give Ellie instructions, pulling out a small bottle of tequila you kept for wound purposes as well as a needle and some fishing line. Joel was shaking and nervous, your hand covering his as you tried to soothe him with all the energy you had left. He took the tequila bottle and put it up to your lips, lifting your head so you could take a gulp of it. “This is going to hurt sweetheart, and I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded smaller than you had ever heard it, his hands moving to pour the alcohol into your wound.

You let out a hiss of air between your teeth, your body instinctively reacting and convulsing to get away from the painful sensation. You kept your eyes locked on his, his look far away and you knew exactly what was going through his head. He had told you about Sarah in passing when you two were getting to know each other, and now you were laid here on the ground with the same exact wound she died from. He wasn’t going to let that happen again, that he was sure of. He tried to keep his breathing steady and not let the panic attack take hold. He tried to forget the feeling of holding his dying daughter in his arms. He was trying. He was trying so damn hard. You wouldn’t turn out the same. You couldn’t. He needed you. He couldn’t lose this battle again. He just couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough anymore.

You had Joel on one side of your body, his fingers slowly working the needle and the fishing line through the wound. The bullet was already out and the wound didn’t look fatal, that was evident from the way you were still alive. But, he was still nervous. He wasn’t going to lose two girls to the same damn fate. He had his lip pulled between his teeth as he worked, Ellie squeezing your hand from the other side of you.

As he kept working, the pain kept getting worse and worse. The tattered edges of your skin were more and more painful with each pass of the needle and your whimpers were getting louder. “Hey, look at me.” Ellie’s voice called out to you as you felt on the edge of blacking out from the immense pain, your vision going blurry and black around the edges. Your gaze slowly moved over to the girl beside you who had become like a daughter to you. You had never had kids, but she was the equivalent of one to you now and as she sat there, pulling her joke book out to distract you, you felt your heart grow 3 sizes. She was trying to make you feel better in the one way she knew how; trying to make you laugh. As she was sitting there telling you jokes, you could feel more and more tears slipping down your cheeks.

You couldn’t die, not now. You finally found a family. You found someone who cared about you more than he cared about hisself and you found a little girl who needed you just as much as she needed you. You finally belonged somewhere. “Okay, babe I need to move you. You’re all stitched up but we need to get you somewhere safe.” You heard Joel’s voice in your ear as he went to move you, a loud noise of pain leaving your lips as you laid across his arms bridal style. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice was hushed as he tried to shake off the memory of Sarah in his arms just like this, tears slipping down his cheeks as he carefully carried you back to where the three of you were camping.

The journey didn’t take long, but along the way you had let the exhaustion overcome you. Your eyes slid closed in a way that you didn’t know if you would wake up from, but it was a welcome distraction from the pain. Your dreams were one of your favorite places to be, outside of being with Joel and Ellie. You could plan your life and how it would go once the outbreak was over, if that would ever happen. You could see yourself living a normal life with the two of them, having a pretty house and a yard. You weren’t fighting to survive every single day. It was peaceful. It was something you wish you could have.

“Babe, dinners ready. I also managed to find some of our old pills in my bag for the pain.” Joel’s soft voice stirred you from your slumber as he sat beside you on your sleeping bag, his lips pressing to your forehead. His eyes were still teary and you could see the fear on his face as he pressed his lips to yours softly, pausing to whisper he loved you.

Once the words were returned he looked at you as if you were the most fragile thing he had ever laid eyes on, his fingers timidly running over your skin. “I thought I lost you. You scared me.” His words were soft as he met your gaze, a small smile taking over your lips. You allowed your fingers to brush over his cheeks, your thumb brushing away stray tears. “You’re going to have to try real hard to get rid of me, Miller.” The teasing in your voice just made him smile even bigger, his lips pressing to yours again before he carefully helped you maneuver to take the medicine and eat some of the food that was prepared.

Was this a perfect scenario? No, it was far from it. But, you had your little family and that’s all that mattered.

[lillsisamarshmallow]

Nurse Y/n (4)

Chapter Summary:  When the Jungkook and Hoseok show up at the café without Jimin, Y/n does her best to help them, but she can only do so much. When she meets the pack leader who hates her will she be able to help him? Will he let her help? Who did this?

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Implied Violence, Violent Aftermath, Implied Hate crime?, Injuries, Blood, Lots of Blood, Bleeding, Nurse Reader, Crying, Medical emergency. Let me know if I missed any!

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"We need your help."

My face dropped at the serious tone in the younger boy's voice, uneasiness settling throughout my body waiting for a further explanation.

"Jimin's hurt and we don't know what to do. Please we need your help."

Before my mind could even process what was happening my feet raced me across the kitchen slamming open one of the cupboards and snatching out the first aid kit we kept on hand. Ducking my head through the doors to the front I told Seoyeon there was an emergency and I'll be back later to which she sternly nodded her head understanding, since it was still early, she'd have to call someone in to help her out.

Running back to Jungkook and Hoseok, I gave them a look before telling them I'm ready, as we ran through the alleys, I recognized most of the turns but not all, my legs were burning from the constant running yet the boys in front of me didn't seem to struggle so much.

Eventually we made it to the cross section of alleys, they ran down but I stopped behind them staring into the alley not stepping forward remembering what happened last time. I stared down at the ground, knowing that beyond the line was their territory. Looking up through the alley I could see Namjoon lying down injured.

He's hurt...

He must have felt me staring at him as he looked back at me staring, it felt as though he was searching my soul looking of any bad intentions, finding none he gave me a slight nod before dropping his lead back into its laying position.

I raced into the alley only to be taken aback by what I saw, it looked like a bomb had gone off in such a small space, scanning the area I could see that Jungkook and Hoseok as well as one of the men I had spoken to last time were attending to their friends whom were all lying on the ground, spotting Jimin I raced over to him dropping to my knees besides him.

"Y-Y/n..?" He grumbled, despite having his eyes closed he knew exactly who I was, not questioning how he knew, I rushed out questions asking him what happened but didn't get much of an answer deciding it was more important to patch him up first.

"Where Jimin? Where are you hurt Jimin?"

Jimin's trembling hands reached the end of his shirt slowing pulling it up, realizing what he was doing I grabbed hold finishing the job for him before dropping the shirt holding my hands in front of my mouth gasping at what I saw.

Littered across Jimin's torso were large forming bruise's along with small tears all around them, shaking hands reaching for the first aid kit I scrambled through it looking for some alcohol wipes and a bandage, getting them out I turn back to Jimin gulping.

Slowly I wipe over his bruise's disinfecting it before moving on to the cuts, Jimin flinches from the sting of the alcohol, apologizing I continued placing Bandages on the cuts after disinfecting. I started wrapping a compression bandage around his torso telling him how sorry I was every time I had to lift him up to get the wrap all the way around, thankfully Jimin wasn't too hard to lift but he did his best to help me out. Fixing up the clasp securing the compression bandage, I pulled Jimin's shirt back down before looking over his face and rest of his body to check for more injuries.

"Okay, all done" I spoke out slightly relived there wasn't any more injuries on him.

"P-please help them..."

Staring at Jimin I turned around seeing everyone else who was injured, pursing my lips I stood up from my crouched position looking at the hurt men, Namjoon, the Panther hybrid, and the Cat hybrid. Deciding the cat was the least dangerous and seem to hate me less I went over to him first where Hoseok was already trying to help.

The cat hybrid faced me before turning right back to face Hoseok trying to ignore my presence, but I persist.

Crouching down beside him I went to reach for his hand, but he moved it away, Hoseok seemed to notice and looked up at him, pleading with him to let me help. "Please let me help you."

We made eye contact as I spoke, knowing he couldn't fight and I won't give up he gave in moving his hand over to mine, I smiled at him trying to reassure him as I held his hand bringing it up to my face to closer inspect it.

He's dealt a few hits.

His knuckles were bleeding from the punches he clearly threw, grabbing the alcohol wipes I passed one to Hoseok so he could copy me as I saw him watching me intently, carefully I wiped down his knuckles, as the alcohol made contact with his raw knuckles his hand wrapped around mine gripping it so impossibly tight that my face twisted in pain, he seemed to notice and let go moving his hand away but I was quick to grab hold it. He mumbled out what I can only assume was an apology before letting me continue.

I finished wiping down his hands then got bandage wraps and tightly secured them around the cat hybrids hand. Hoseok passed me his other hand where I did the same, looking at the cat hybrid I could tell he'd been hit a few times but not enough to be seriously injured, besides, I don't think he'd let me touch his face.

I'll have to bring back some ice packs.

Giving a little tap on his hands to let him know I was done I returned to my full height slightly stretching before locking eyes with the next person who needs help, the panther hybrid.

What even happened here? Why are they all hurt?

Thank goodness they made me take basic first aid in school.

I waltzed over to the panther hybrid glancing down at him and Jungkook as well as the sugar glider hybrid, scanning his body it seemed as through most of his injuries were on his face, unfortunately due to where he was sitting propped up against the wall in between the chair and some boxes would make it hard to get to his face.

I stood in front of him crouching down coming face to face with him, he looked slightly surprised by my fast movements, his velvety brown eyes staring right back at me holding both pain and curiosity. Seeing his injuries, he had a busted lip which was bleeding and he had clearly been hit in his nose, as well as a cut along his eyebrow, he was covered in blood, his deep brown hair wet with the liquid. Biting my lip, I got to work starting with basic wipes to get most of the blood off followed by an alcohol wipe disinfecting the larger areas, but I had to get a cotton bud to help with the rest.

Slowly I swiped the cotton bud over his lips, he winced in pain but I kept going, moving up to his eye brow he kept staring into my eyes not looking away the whole time, it made me nervous but I couldn't stop, the pain must have been way worse because as soon as the coated cotton bud touched his eyebrow wound his arms snapped up grabbing hold of my thighs squeezing them and wincing in pain. Shocked I froze at the sudden contact, I had been so side tracked trying to help that I hadn't realized that I was crouching, hovering over his lap, blush spread up my neck blooming on my face at the realization of just how close we were. Opening his eyes, he looked me over seeming to notice my state before smirking at me, this only made my hot skin even worse, trying to get his attention off of me and release me from my embarrassment I put the cotton bud back on the cut below his eye.

This seemed to work as he grimaced in pain coughing a bit making me feel bad, but I continued cleaning up his face and adding small butterfly bandages where needed, when I finished, I tried to stand back up, but he kept me in place with his strong grip, my face started heating back up as I tried to hide it and look away. The smirk was almost audible on his face as he let out a light laugh before letting go of me.

Immediately I got up grabbing the first aid kit and stepping away a bit. Looking around everyone seemed to be doing okay now, they were either all patched up or looking after someone who had been injured. Thinking I was done I sigh slightly relaxing before I realized.

Namjoon.

Spinning around so fast the box almost dropped out of my hands I hastily made my way over to Namjoon before stopping just a few feet away from him, anxious I wasn't sure if I should step closer, he had his back facing me so I couldn't see his face. It wasn't until I started scanning his body for obvious injuries that I began to notice the dark, wet circle around him and the dark red growing up his worn grey shirt that I realized.

That's blood. He's bleeding... bad.

Standing closer to him a heard the familiar growl but this time it was different, it was laced with pain.

"T-That's a lot of blood...Namjoon-"

"Go away. I don't need your help."

Hesitating I considered just leaving him here, but I can't do that, I need to help him. Shoving the fear, I have of this man who is now clearly riddled with pain and writhing on the ground I pressed.

"Yes, you do." I sternly said stepping around him to face him meeting his eyes, anger and pain swirled in them as he looked at me, I crossed my arms and rivalled him own anger with my own at his sheer stubbornness. "I am going to help you."

I crouched down to get a better look at his wound but to no avail I still couldn't see it, huffing I put my hands on his chest using all the power I had and to attempted to push him over, thankfully due to his state Namjoon didn't fight back much, just groaning from the movement.

When he was finally facing up, I got a small idea as to where his injuries were, his shirt was mostly soaked in blood, but the source seemed to be right at the centre of his upper chest. Reaching to grab his shirt to pull it up he grabbed hand of my wrist stopping me, shooting me a glare, I shot one right back at him.

"I can't help if I can't get to the wound."

"I told you, I don't want help form you. I'm Fine."

His ice-cold tone striking my heart like a spear going straight through my chest and out my back, slightly taken a back I just stared at him before noticing, not only did his eyes hold anger for me and pain from his chest but they also held fear, pushed back as far as it could go, but still there.

He's scared of me...

Immediately my expression softened upon the realization that he was just scared of me, he was worried I'd hurt him or his pack, changing my approach to this I wrapped my other hand securely around his hand that was gripped on my wrist, encapsulated it as much as I could seeing as he had much bigger hands than me.

Staring into his eyes I spoke softly. "Please Namjoon, let me help you. I want you to be okay, for them." I nodded towards the others but kept eye contact with him. He stared into the eyes before begrudgingly letting go of my wrist and lifting his shirt up himself, giving him a small smile, I looked over to where his shirt once was my face dropping.

Across his upper chest were countless slashes, they didn't look deep enough to affect any of his organs but the sheer amount of them made him bleed like crazy, whoever did this clearly wanted to seriously harm him and whoever it was had got him good. My mind was running miles an hour not knowing where to start.

There's so much blood...

This is serious I can't patch this up.

"We need to get you to a hospital." I spoke is disbelief, his wounds were too severe for me to be able to help sufficiently, he needs proper medical attention, and I was worried about the amount of blood he was losing, it was pooling around him, and my legs were covered in the crimson red liquid that was pumping out of his body at an alarming rate.

"No, no hospitals. They won't help me." He grunted seeming to be losing consciousness.

"W-What? We have to! I can't fix this I-"

"No!" He yelled at me. "If you can't help me then I don't need help" He moved his hands trying to pull his shirt back down but my hands shot out stopping his, staring at his chest, knowing that if I don't help him, he won't get any help, for whatever reason he doesn't want to go to the hospital so I need to do my best what I have and my basic training.

Trying to clean up his chest was a mess, every time I wiped blood away more would ooze out from the cuts, I could tell it was hurting every time I did because he would tense and hiss out incomprehensible words. My hands by now were soaked with blood having it seep into my nailbeds where it appeared darker, it was all over my clothes and my face from wiping the sweat away, or at least I hope it was sweat.

Deciding against wiping the blood away anymore as it kept coming back, I started wrapping it figuring I can clean and disinfect it another time, Namjoon was not like Jimin, and I could not so easily lift him. "I need you to sit up so I can wrap it up." Namjoon was very out of it right now due to the blood lose but he needed to do this so he would stop losing blood, I'm starting to get seriously worried.

Weakly, Namjoon sat up, but I had to help him, I started wrapping around the bandage, it was going smoothly until Namjoon leant his weight on me throwing me off balance, smacking a hand to the ground to keep me sitting up straight, and the other went around Namjoon to stop him from falling. "Namjoon?" He didn't respond, panic spread through me as I tried to find a pulse, thankfully he had one, but it was weak.

Slightly adjusting our position, I kept wrapping the bandage around him trying to get it done fast and tight as my arms were aching from holding us up. Getting to the last round I secured it over his shoulder putting the wrap down and shifting slightly to lay Namjoon down. Not wanting his head to rest on the dirty ground still flooded with blood I placed his head on my lap and leaned against the wall behind me.

Before I could truly relax, I looked around making sure everyone was okay and patched up, Jimin was still out of it, but he was patched up, the panther hybrid seemed be drifting in and out of consciousness and the others were all sitting quietly scattered about the alley. A final sigh excited my mouth as I looked up to the sky closing my eyes trying to process everything.

Why are they all so hurt?

Who did this to them?

Was this normal?

"I'm sorry."

Breaking my thoughts, I opened my eyes and looked at the alley way only to see Jungkook staring at me, I hadn't noticed it before, but his eyes were red, liked he'd been crying. Confused by his words I softly spoke to him, too exhausted to be much louder.

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have brought you here, I didn't mean to, but we weren't sure who else to go to."

"I'm happy you came and got me Jungkook. I would've been more worried if you didn't show up and I wasn't able to help." I said trying to ease the tension, it seemed like everyone was going to be okay which was good. "What happened?" I asked him finally making eye contact with the bunny boy.

"Well..."

As Jungkook went on to explain what had happened with a few of the other conscious members filling in gaps and details, I felt the bile rising in my throat at what they were saying. How this had happened before, and it was normal for them although it had never gotten this bad. Tears started to pool in my eyes, I hadn't realized how bad they were living, and it all came crashing down on me just how bad it was.

People would beat them up this badly, just because they were hybrids.

Growing up I had never met a hybrid, but I knew they existed, I thought they were cool, so I never had anything against them. I know Seoyeon had nothing against them either, she treated them just as she would treat anybody else. They don't deserve this, being treated like that, people who beat up hybrids or have establishment with 'No hybrids allowed' are just sick.

I know that it's mostly older people who have problems with hybrids these days, but they pass their beliefs onto their kids and the younger generations, and some people are just jerks for no reason. I was thankful that my parents never had anything against hybrids and just simply didn’t know much about them.

Knowing I wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, I settled down a bit more shifting under Namjoon’s weight trying to get a bit more comfortable. It was rest time for the boys, most of them had now lied down and closed their eyes trying to recover from the traumatic events from today.

Jungkook kept talking and answering a few of my questions occasionally going quiet at some, which I took as stepping too far and moved on to a new question, by now pretty much everyone had passed out, it had been a few hours and I stuck around to keep an eye on them especially Namjoon, constantly checking his pulse making sure it didn't get any worse.

The stress of the situation was beginning to dawn on me, and my eyes kept closing, Jungkook had also drifted off muttering a quiet 'Thank you'. I slowly reached for my pocket which had my phone, getting it out and unlocking it I sent a brief message to Seoyeon letting her know I was okay and won't be back for a while before turning it off and stuffing it back in my pocket.

The exhaustion coming over my body my eyes started to close as my body went limp succumbing to the comfort of darkness.

A/n: New chapter! I knew where I wanted this chapter to start and end but I had such a struggle writing it. I have never taken any sort of medical course, but my mum used to do first aid for our local football club, I kept asking her questions about injuries, bleeding out and whether you’d need proper medical help, she thought I was planning something 😭. I’ve never written about Injuries or stuff like this, so sorry if it sounds a bit weird, I’ll keep learning! Also, the support has been so amazing! I love reading all the kind words and thoughts about the book, I took a break from writing this week but I’m ahead in chapter writing so it’s not a big deal, I’ve written up to chapter 7 and I’m working of what’s going to be either Chapter 7.5 or 8, I’m thinking of just doing weekly updates since that’s how long it usually takes me to write a full chapter as I don’t have a lot of time and tend to have a short attention span. But anyways, I hope you all have a lovely day & Thankyou all for reading! 💜

[tmpestuous]

One Step at a Time

summary: when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader

a/n: here’s another avenger!reader one shot from the long list of ideas i have… i’m thinking of making them all connected so it’s the same reader from six days (: i promise my next fic won’t be so depressing i apologize

-

Trying to fight off the hand currently clasped over your mouth, you were only repeatedly unsuccessful. Steve hadn’t seen you get dragged off, turning around and panicking immediately.

You could hear his calls for your voice become increasingly faint as the men dragged you to a secluded room you assumed Steve wouldn’t be able to access. 

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is, Steve?” Bucky sat, still in his disheveled state from being woken up abruptly by Sam for an emergency meeting.

“Buck, wake up man,” Sam said, clasping Bucky’s shoulder lightly and shaking him a bit.

Opening his eyes reluctantly, Bucky wondered what could possibly be so important this early in the morning. He never got much sleep when you went on your missions, feeling the bed to be a little too empty and thus, leaving him lonely with his thoughts.

Looking at the clock, it read 4:17AM. 

Looking back at Sam, Bucky knew something wasn’t right. Sam’s usual, playful nature replaced with one that looked remorseful. 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “Everything okay?”

“It’s Y/n, Buck,” Sam responded, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He looked nervous, almost as if it was his fault. “She’s missing. Steve wants to have a meeting with us.”

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Bucky said calmly, though he most certainly felt his heart drop from his chest.

Sam was just as distraught as Bucky in the meeting, bobbing his knee up and down in his seat. He had told you Steve was swapping with him for the mission, second guessing himself after taking it up in the first place. You were upset he wasn’t joining you, having been the only person you trusted enough to go on missions alone with besides Bucky since you recovered from the explosion. It made him feel guilty that it had resulted in your disappearance.

It had taken you a while to feel comfortable enough to start participating in any missions, and even when you did, you always made the effort to stay in the same room as someone else. You couldn’t bear to be alone again, more than just fearful to end up in another situation where you had no idea what to do with no immediate help. 

Plunging the knife into the chest of the last man, you exhaled a few shaky breaths. 

You had been fighting these men for what felt like hours. One of them had managed to stab you in the side while you weren’t looking, and to your eventual disadvantage, you pulled it out of your suit and used it to deal with about ten other men on your own.

Staring at the last man only pushed you to look at the vast amount of bodies around you, about twenty of them laying in pools of blood everywhere, most of which you barely recalled finishing off.

You had experienced your fair share of moments with blind rage before, most of which came from your time with Hydra. But you made the effort never to kill someone. A vow you made to yourself, which was now broken.

Choking on a sob you didn’t realize was coming, you stood up and placed pressure on your stab wound before searching through the room for medical supplies. It was clearly a doctor’s room, one that reminded you of the office you spent a lot of time in while captured by Hydra.

Finding a first aid kit, you did your best to stitch and patch the stab wound with so little supplies. Once you were finished, you put the jacket of your suit back on, knowing it was freezing outside and you had to find some sort of shelter.

If there were more men coming to the building, the last thing you wanted to do was try to fight more of them off in your current state. You had hoped Steve made it out, now doing everything you can to do the same for yourself.

Finding a nearby exit, you walked out into the cool air. 

It was gonna be a long walk.

Steve was still in his suit, dirt covering his face though it did nothing to mask his solemn expression. 

He wasn’t sure how the two of you got separated. He was keeping a close eye on you since the last time you were paired together, things went bad. Hell, you almost died. Steve was simply starting to think he gave you bad luck when you were around him.

“I– I’m not sure,” Steve choked out, and he wasn’t lying at all. “We had made it inside and were met with some resistance, but we didn’t split up. We got caught up fighting and when I had turned around, she was gone. I didn’t leave her, Buck, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Bucky believed him, but he couldn’t help but overthink the fact that you’d been caught up in a bad place in the last two missions you’ve spent with Steve. It was his best friend and, of course, he knew he’d never have ill intentions with you. 

He just hoped you were okay.

“It’s okay, Steve,” he reassured. “We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

God, you had hoped they’d somehow find you. 

You swore you’d been walking in circles for ten hours, searching for the safe house Tony had informed you and Steve was near where your mission was taking place. 

You were so tired. You had barely managed to fight off all of the maniacs who had tried to hold you captive in the old Hydra base you and Steve were assigned to get rid of. You recognized a few of them from your days in the organization, but it took you a lot longer to fight them on your own after getting stabbed in the side and a few hits to the head. 

You had never done any killing with Hydra, seeing as they never got you to commit to it, but something had triggered you to kill almost all of them. The only ones who didn’t reap such consequences were the ones who had ambushed you and Steve when you both had found an entrance into the building. 

You felt sick to your stomach because of it, along with all the energy being drained from you slowly but surely with every step you took towards nowhere at this point. You had lost your transponder somewhere in that god-forsaken building, so on top of losing Steve, it wasn’t like anyone back at the compound could track your location either.

Steve.

You assumed he’d started to look for you after you lost each other, but you had no idea if he was still in this general location. He might’ve stayed or gone back to the compound to tell the others you were missing.

It genuinely wasn’t his fault you got separated, and you’d only hoped he knew that. Someone who might not know that, on the other hand, is Bucky. You then hoped he wouldn’t give Steve a hard time, not wanting them to have any more tension than the last time you suffered while paired up with his best friend.

“She still has to go to the debrief, Bucky,” Steve pushed. “It’s been long enough and we’ve pushed past protocol longer than we ever have.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk about it, Steve? We all went to debrief, why does she have to do it too?”

“She experienced what none of us did,” the blonde countered again. “No one knows what happened in that room but her. We need every detail.”

Reluctantly, Bucky gave in. But he regretted it the second things were rough in the meeting. 

“You have to remember, Y/n,” Steve tried to encourage you, but it wasn’t really working.

“I told you I never found where it came from, I’m not making that up,” you defended. 

“You said you didn’t remember if you found where it came from.”

“The last thing I remember was seeing one blink of a red light before the explosion. I don’t remember if it was actually the source or something else. I never found it, Steve,” you urged softly. 

Bucky was getting irritated. You hadn’t talked much to him about what happened because you hated how you felt afterwards, and now you were sitting here getting interrogated by Steve who hadn’t been there every step of your recovery.

“Y/n–”

“I think that’s enough, Steve,” Bucky said before grabbing your hand and standing up. “We’re done here.”

Your recollection of the memory was short-lived when you felt your suit starting to feel a lot wetter than before, peeking down to see it staining with fresh blood which means your wound had reopened. Limping towards what looked like an empty house, seeming freshly abandoned, you winced at the pain in your side. Walking up to the front door, you quickly jammed it in, glad to feel warmth in contrast to the cold air from outside.

Looking around to see if anyone was inside, you found yourself alone. Settling on a first aid kit from the bathroom, you plopped yourself on the couch and ripped the jacket of your suit off, almost peeling it with the dried blood making it stick to your skin a bit. 

You did your best to restitch and patch the stab wound, but you knew you’d certainly have to redo it in a few hours. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, likely from the loss of blood and lack of nourishment. Trying your best to stay awake didn’t work as well as you hoped, but you held on for as long as you could.

Back at the compound, Bucky was packing everything he possibly needed. He didn’t know how long it was gonna take to find you, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t stop searching until he did. He had told Steve it was best for him to stay for this one, knowing he was feeling the guilt of having you go lost in the first place. 

Bucky heard a knock at his door, turning around to see Sam in his doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asked, seeing Bucky zip his bags. 

“Let’s find her.”

It had been less than five hours since Steve had broken the news that he lost you. First, he told Bucky and Sam, knowing it’d be of most importance to them. Then the rest of the team had joined in on the meeting, immediately making plans on how to find her. 

Sam, Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Thor had agreed to go with Bucky to help find you. Bucky had no problem going on his own, but Natasha assured that it’d be best for everyone to join in. They attributed your last known location to the last signal your transponder gave off, and thus decided to start there.

Steve waved them off as they left on the jet, but everyone was aware he’d be tracking from back at the compound. 

Upon making it to the location of your mission and where they knew you had been at some point, they found your (now dead) transponder in the middle of a pool of blood. There were bodies everywhere, and Bucky had only grown anxious. 

You had never enjoyed getting unnecessarily violent, and in that, you always reminded him of himself. He was aware Hydra hadn’t toyed with your head nearly to the extent they did with him, but it was enough to do some damage. 

You’d confided in him with all of your stories, never going into extreme detail out of compassion for his own experiences and not wanting to trigger him into those thoughts. However, he knew that you’d never killed anyone. Beaten some people beyond a general healing point, definitely, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a life. Hydra had their fair share of punishments for you because of that but it hadn’t broken you to the point of reaching that point.

Seeing all the dead bodies scattered across the room, there had to be about twenty of them. Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but it undoubtedly scared him. If you were in that much trouble to cause such damage, he was worried about what state he’d find you in. 

Seeing everyone make their way out of the room, Bucky shook the negative thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to distract himself from his priority: finding you, regardless of what state you’d be in.

“If she’s injured, she couldn’t have made it far,” Natasha stated, staring around at the outside of the building from an open window. “She might still be around here somewhere, maybe hid–”

Lights from a series of vehicles appeared outside. About four dozen Hydra men made their way towards the entrance of the building, murmuring about how they needed to find you before the Avengers did. 

“We’ve got company, boys,” Natasha stated instead of finishing her previous thought. 

Bucky made his way to the window, seeing that horrid insignia his memory would never let him forget. “Hydra. There’s more of them still around than I thought.”

“Cut a head off, two more take its place, huh?” Natasha recalled the organization’s motto. “We need to do this quickly, we don’t know how much time Y/n’s got and we still don’t know where she is–”

“Go,” Bucky said. “Go find her, I’ll handle them.”

“Buck, is that really the best ch–” Sam started.

“I said, go.”

“I’m sticking with you, everyone else can go.”

Bucky sighed before nodding in agreement. Natasha made her way out with Tony, Thor, and Clint, finding a back entrance. Bruce was still in the jet, tracking nearby buildings you could possibly be in. Thor, Natasha, and Clint decided to split up and search each one, Tony trying to find heat signatures that could somehow match yours.

Bucky and Sam made their way to the ground floor, watching all of the men surge in. Bucky loaded his rifle, Sam releasing Redwing to count how many men there were.

“There’s 40 of them,” Sam whispered loud enough for only Bucky to hear him.

“20 for each of us, huh?” Bucky adjusted his hold on his rifle from around the corner of the hallway. “If Y/n can do it, so can we.” Feeling a boost in confidence, Bucky started to make his move, knocking out a few men right away as Sam did the same. 

He knew he couldn’t let anyone get to you before anyone from the team did, even if it meant letting the others go ahead of him. He felt a lot more calculated than he usually did, knowing your life (or death) was in the gamble of the entire operation. 

You, on the other hand, were about to give up. Staying awake has never been this difficult, but with your pulse going faster by the second and the sudden chills you were feeling, you had a feeling this was it. 

Your wound hadn’t opened at all in the last two hours, but you attributed it to pure luck at this point. The way you were feeling could only be coming from the gaping hole on the side of your torso, even covered. 

You still tried your best to keep your eyes open, knowing you weren’t going to let yourself die cold and alone in the middle of nowhere. You felt awful, a few tears shedding from your eyes from how sick you were starting to feel. You wanted to sleep, but you were scared to go under and then not wake up.

Not to mention, you couldn’t sleep knowing the nightmares that were inevitably going to come. Feeling physically awful was one thing, but watching all those lifeless bodies fall to the floor after you killed them only made you feel worse. You couldn’t get the memory out of your head, only sobbing slightly to yourself thinking about it.

The thought that lingered even more in your head was how you were gonna tell Bucky. He knew you’d never resort to such drastic measures and you were afraid he’d look at you different once he found out. 

If he even found you alive at this point.

The team had searched about 40 houses in the last two hours, eventually teaming up with Bucky and Sam who had dealt with all forty men in the span of half an hour. They even checked the safe house in case you had made it and passed out before communicating with them, but you weren’t there either. 

“There’s only one house left on this entire street,” Bruce spoke through comms. 

Bucky’s anxiety was only going sky high with every second they hadn’t found you yet. They had no idea what your condition was like and he was doing his best not to think of the worst possible scenario. He’d hoped the tricks he taught you while on missions with him had helped somewhat, like knowing how to stitch a wound or finding a safe place from danger.

Bucky’s racing mind was interrupted by Tony’s voice on comms; he had gone to check the house and determine if there was anyone inside.

“Heat signature matches Y/l/n’s, and it’s not looking too good,” he said as he landed back on the ground.

The team rushed over, Bucky running faster than he’d ever run before. Opening the door in a rush, he saw you laying on the couch, taking staggered breaths with your eyes closed. Everyone had walked in behind him, Natasha alerting Bruce that they had found you and telling him to prep the jet. 

Bucky’s only focus was you. He placed his hands on your cheek, startling you enough to push him back before your eyes landed on him.

“Bucky?” you said, definitely not believing your eyes as you looked around and saw everyone else in the room.

Bucky approached you again slowly, not wanting to scare you further since you were probably in shock.

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” he assured you as you stared him down frantically before you started to sob. “We came to take you home, alright? We’re going home.”

As the jet landed outside, Bucky picked you up in his arms. You instinctively curled up against him, hiding your cold face in the warmth of the crook of his neck. After everyone boarded, the jet made its way back to the compound. 

Bucky had looked at your wound, replacing the dirty gauze for a clean one. You’d cried almost the entire ride, all of your emotions rushing in like a freight train. 

It hurt Bucky to see you in such a state, knowing you were tired of all the losses in life. He knew exactly how it felt, but he’d also felt you deserved it much less than he did all those years. You didn’t kill anyone like he did, you didn’t ruin anyone’s life like he did, you didn’t make people scared of you. He tried to shake those thoughts from his head, knowing you’d scold him again for thinking so low of himself in comparison to you.

Running his hands through your hair, he stayed next to you the entire time, reassuring you that you were safe and soothing you as best as he could. 

Once you all had arrived to the compound, it only got worse. 

A gurney was waiting for you on the landing pad, which you didn’t want to be laid on, to begin with. Once they had strapped you down, your cries only got worse, screaming Bucky’s name out as they took you to the medical bay. Bucky wanted to follow, but Sam stopped him, saying it was best to do the debrief right away. 

You refused to let anyone touch you unless Bucky was there, and the doctors in the medical bay were getting so frustrated, the only choice they had was to sedate you in the meantime. When they had finally patched up your wound properly, they left you to rest.

Rest was very much not in your cards, however, with your crying fits continuing and Bucky’s hearts breaking into about a million more pieces than before when he walked into your room to see you crying to yourself. 

“Y/n…” he spoke softly, sliding into the bed with you carefully and pulling you into his arms, cautious enough not to hurt you further. Kissing the top of your head multiple times, he rubbed your arms up and down until your cries eventually stopped. 

“Y-you’re gonna hate me, Bucky,” you said with a shaky voice. “I don’t want you to hate me when you find out what I did.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” he looked down at you, but Bucky was well aware what you were thinking of. “I could never hate you. Ever. Not after everything we’ve been through together, okay? Don’t ever say something like that.”

Bucky heard you sniffle and saw a few tears fall down your cheeks, heart aching at the fact that you might start sobbing again. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face from him in his chest.

The following days were still rough. Bucky felt lucky enough that you’d have your meals with him, but you didn’t feel like leaving your room. Steve had checked in with you and said you wouldn’t have to update anyone on what happened after you got separated. Not until you were ready to talk about it.

Bucky stayed with you more often, even after you pleaded with him to not tear up his schedule for you. He skipped out on a mission just so he could stay with you, which he assured you was okay because it meant his next mission would be with you. 

The only way you got him to go back to his routine was to offer to train with him. He had asked you a million times if you were sure, knowing what most likely occurred back on your mission’s complication. Eventually, he gave in as he always did, but he knew he wasn’t going to rush you into anything.

Picking up your normal tools for your usual, more-intense sparring sessions you always had with Bucky, your hands started to shake. Bucky noticed and rubbed your shoulders smoothly.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nodded up at him, putting your tools down. You thought it’d help to move slow, but the second you knocked Bucky down, you kneeled down next to him, anxiously asking if he was okay with tears in your eyes.

Bucky looked up at you quizzically, knowing you knew in the back of your mind somewhere that you couldn’t hurt him detrimentally from a normal sparring session. 

He wiped your tears away as you stared at him with fear in your eyes, only making him feel even worse about you experiencing what you had experienced alone. 

“Baby, hey,” he said as you shut your eyes and cried. “Look at me.”

Blinking a few times, you sniffled and looked down at him, completely uncaring of your tears that had fallen on his shirt. 

“You could never hurt me, my love,” he rubbed your cheeks with his calloused thumbs, though it was the comfort you surely needed. “The only way you could hurt me is by breaking my heart and I know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon, right?”

You shook your head.

“Then don’t worry so much, baby,” he leaned up and kissed your lips softly. “I’m more than okay. You were just better than me. Let’s go shower and watch a movie.”

Standing up and lifting you up with a helping hand, you both walked back to Bucky’s room which was the closest. Stepping into the bathroom, Bucky let the water run from the showerhead so it could get warm. You stripped yourself of your clothes as he did the same, before getting into the shower. 

After cleansing yourselves, Bucky rubbed your tense shoulders once again as you leaned into him.

“I killed them,” you muffled into his chest.

“Hm?” Bucky questioned, not quite hearing you over the running water and with your face down. Lifting your chin up to look at him, your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying you’d done all day. “You don’t have to talk about anything, Y/n. Okay? We can talk about it some other time.

Shaking your head, you sighed in faltered breaths. “I killed them, Bucky.”

Bucky looked at you with sorrow. He didn’t know how to tell you that he already knew, he didn’t even know if it was the right thing to tell you. All he did was brush your tears away and kiss your forehead, nose, then lips. 

“You need to relax a bit, baby, okay?” he spoke in a soft tone. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Staring up at him in confusion, you shook your head again.

“You know already,” you confirmed to yourself, knowing Bucky too well to know he would usually ask if you wanted to talk further about something before putting it to bed. “You know I killed all those people.”

Bucky sighed, staring into your eyes before closing his and nodding slightly. “I do.”

“And you don’t look at me differently?” you asked, your voice a lot more calm and collected now. “I broke my promise, I didn’t even show them any mercy, Bucky—”

“Do you look at me differently knowing all the people I killed?” he interrupted, placing his flesh hand on your cheek and rubbing it slightly with his thumb. “You don’t, you never have. You knew who I was when you first got here and never looked at me differently. Why would I do that to you?”

“That’s different,” you countered. “You had no idea what you were doing, Bucky. I did.”

“You were defending yourself,” he retaliated, doing his best not to downplay your feelings. “If you hadn’t killed them, who knows what they would have done to you? It’s Hydra, they don’t care who they hurt or how they do it. If I were you, I would have done the same thing.”

He was right and you knew it. You laid your head back on his chest, scared to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken,” you admitted. “I don’t know who I was when all of that happened and I just— it felt like I was trying to escape them all over again and I’ve never experienced that before. I was scared.”

“And that’s okay,” Bucky reassured you the same way he always had, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You’re not broken, you’re just healing. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby.”

You sniffled again before leaning into him more. “Can you just hold me for now?”

Bucky kissed your head again, squeezing his arms around you in all the warmth he could possibly transfer.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—

I promise this is the last of my desire to write angst with injuring the reader… thank you for reading!

tags: @jessybarnes

[peachy-princess777]

can i request a rafe cameron x reader where they're basically best friends but they don't act like it and topper and kelce always tease them abt it. one day, rafe got into a fight and reader gets so worried and patches him up and thats when rafe realizes that he's actually in love with her because he never shows this much affection and acts so soft only towards her and he basically starts going feral cause he hates the idea of him being in love so he pushes reader away and it all ends up with him confessing his love to her and plss make it a bit angstyyyy pls, thanks love 🩷🫂

Yes yes yesssss

I'm not sure if this is angsty enough because I, personally,don't really like how it turned out but I didn't know what else to write to make it better HOPEFULLY you like it.. bottoms up🥸

In the dimly lit garage, the smell of grease and gasoline was a familiar embrace for Rafe Cameron. He had spent countless hours here, his hands stained with oil, elbow-deep in the guts of a car that had more stories than the town library. His eyes focused on the engine in front of him, he barely noticed the soft hum of the radio playing a classic rock song. The world outside could be chaos, but in here, it was just him and the steel beasts that whispered their secrets to him.

Y/N, his best friend since childhood, walked in, her sneakers squeaking against the concrete floor. She held a first-aid kit tightly to her chest, a look of concern etched on her face. "Rafe, you okay?" she called out, her voice cutting through the solitude.

Rafe looked up, his eyes bloodshot from the dust and his jaw tight from the fight. He nodded curtly, not quite meeting her gaze. "It's nothing," he said, wiping a trickle of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

Y/N approached him, setting the first-aid kit on the workbench. She studied his bruised face, her thumb brushing against his jawline gently. "You've got a nasty cut here," she murmured, her voice soothing despite the tension in the air. "Let me clean it up."

Rafe flinched at her touch, not used to such tenderness from her. The fight had left him raw, both physically and emotionally. He'd been trying to play it cool, but the pain in his chest was unmistakable. "I can do it," he said gruffly, reaching for the kit.

But Y/N was insistent. She took his hand in hers, her grip surprisingly firm. "Sit down," she ordered gently, guiding him to a stool. "You're in no condition to be patching yourself up." Her eyes searched his, a question lingering unspoken. Rafe sat, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and comfort.

With careful precision, she cleaned the wound, the sting of antiseptic bringing him back to reality. He watched her, noticing the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the gentle way she dabbed at his skin. It was a stark contrast to the fiery spirit he'd seen in her so many times before. For a moment, he felt something shift within him, something warm and terrifying.

Their friends, Topper and Kelce, stumbled in, laughter echoing off the garage walls. They'd been out celebrating their victory at the local dive bar, and the smell of cheap beer and sweat trailed them like a fog. "Looks like someone's been playing a little too rough," Topper said, his grin wide and teasing. Kelce elbowed him in the ribs. "Leave the lovebirds alone."

Y/N's cheeks flushed at their banter, and she tried to play it off with a laugh, but the weight of their words hit Rafe like a sledgehammer. He'd never allowed himself to be this vulnerable with anyone, especially not Y/N. The thought of them being seen as a couple made his stomach twist into knots. He jerked his hand away from hers, the sudden movement causing her to drop the cotton swab.

"I said I can handle it," he snapped, his voice echoing in the garage. The music on the radio seemed to fade into the background as the tension grew palpable.

Y/N took a step back, her eyes wide. "I'm just trying to help," she said softly, picking up the dropped swab.

Rafe knew he was being an ass, but he couldn't stop the anger that bubbled up inside him. "I don't need your help," he said, grabbing the first-aid kit. His hands trembled as he clumsily applied a bandage to his own wound, the pain a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil.

Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, the teasing smiles wiped from their faces. They'd never seen Rafe like this before—so volatile, so...vulnerable. They knew better than to push it. With a shrug, Topper clapped Rafe on the shoulder. "Alright, man. If you're good, we're gonna head out." Kelce nodded in agreement, and the two of them left the garage, the door slamming shut behind them.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Y/N stared at the closed door, her heart racing. She felt like she'd been slapped in the face, the sting of rejection burning like the antiseptic she'd just applied to Rafe's wound. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. "Fine," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. "I'll leave you to it."

Rafe watched her retreating back, his own heart pounding like a wild animal trapped in a cage. He hated the way she looked at him, like he was something breakable, something she had to handle with care. It made him feel weak, and weakness was not a luxury he could afford. Not here, not in Outer Banks, where the only law was survival of the fittest.

He turned back to the engine, his hands moving mechanically as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest. The fight had been just another Tuesday night, a bar brawl over a drunken comment about his family's past. But Y/N's touch had changed everything. It had stirred feelings he'd buried deep, feelings he didn't know how to deal with.

As the night wore on, Rafe found himself unable to shake the encounter. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her worried gaze, felt the softness of her skin against his. It was infuriating. He'd never been the type to get tangled up in emotions—his life was about keeping it simple, about not letting anyone get too close. But Y/N had been there for him since they were kids, and she'd always had a way of sneaking under his armor.

For the next few days, Rafe avoided Y/N like the plague. He took on extra shifts at the garage, working until his hands were raw and his eyes burned with exhaustion. He picked fights with anyone who so much as looked at him sideways, channeling his confusion and fear into his fists. The bruises on his knuckles were a stark reminder of the tumultuous storm brewing inside him.

Y/N noticed the change immediately. She'd catch glimpses of him from afar, his broad shoulders hunched as he worked on cars, his eyes dark and distant. The playful banter between them had gone silent, replaced by terse nods and curt responses. It was as if the moment of tenderness in the garage had never happened.

Her heart ached for him, but she knew better than to push. Rafe had always been a closed book, and she respected his need for space. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd done something wrong, that she'd overstepped some invisible line. She found herself lost in thought, replaying the scene over and over again in her mind, trying to pinpoint the moment when everything had changed.

Rafe's demeanor grew more and more distant as the days dragged on. He'd always been a man of few words, but now his silence was deafening. He'd come home from work, his eyes glazed over, and slump onto the couch without a word. The TV droned on in the background, but he never seemed to watch it, lost in his own world of turmoil.

Y/N tried to give him space, but it was like walking on eggshells. Every time she offered a gentle greeting or a casual question, he'd respond with a grunt or a one-word answer. It was as if she was invisible, and it was breaking her heart. She'd never seen Rafe like this—so lost, so...defeated.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the garage, she couldn't take it anymore. The house was quiet, the only sound the hum of the fridge. She found Rafe sitting at the kitchen table, staring into a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The sight of him like this, so abroken, filled her with a determination she hadn't felt in days.

With a deep breath, she approached him, her hand shaking slightly as she placed her palm on his shoulder. "Rafe," she said softly, "we need to talk."

He flinched at her touch, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. For a moment, she saw a flicker of something—pain, fear, longing?—before his usual stoic mask slammed back into place. "There's nothing to talk about," he said, his voice cold and dismissive.

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to let him push her away again. "You've been acting like a jerk since the night of the fight," she said, her voice steady. "What's going on with you?"

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his grip on the whiskey bottle tightening. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N rolled her eyes, her frustration boiling over. "You've been pushing me away, ignoring me, acting like I'm some kind of...some kind of burden," she spat out. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Rafe shot to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor. "You didn't do anything," he roared, slamming his fist on the table. The bottle wobbled but didn't fall. "You're not the problem, Y/N. I am."

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, unsure of what to say. Rafe never talked about his feelings, never let anyone in that deep. But she could see the torment in his eyes, the desperation in his clenched fists. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean that I don't know how to deal with this," he said, gesturing wildly between them. "With...this." His voice was thick with emotion, the words catching in his throat like a noose tightening.

Y/N's heart raced as she tried to piece together what he was saying. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Rafe took a step towards her, his eyes blazing with something she'd never seen before. "I'm talking about the fact that every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I want to...to kiss you, to hold you, to tell you how much you mean to me!" His voice grew louder with each word, the whiskey sloshing in the bottle he still gripped in his hand.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was not what she'd expected. "Rafe," she began, but he cut her off.

"And then what?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger. "You're going to tell me you don't feel the same? That I'm just some dumb, lovesick fool?"

Y/N stared at him, her eyes wide. She'd always known there was more to Rafe than he let on, but this raw vulnerability was something she'd never seen before. It was like looking at a feral animal that had been caged for too long—part of her wanted to run, but another part was drawn to the pain she saw in his eyes. "Rafe," she said carefully, "you're not a fool."

He took another step closer, his chest heaving. "Then why can't you just leave it?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Why do you have to keep pushing?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her hand rising to rest on his chest. She could feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath her palm. "Because, Rafe," she said, her voice barely audible, "I'm in love with you too

."

The words hung in the air like a confession in a silent church, resonating through the garage and echoing in the quiet night outside. Rafe's eyes searched hers, disbelief and hope warring within him. He'd never expected this, never allowed himself to imagine it. His heart raced like a wild horse, straining against the reins of his control.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to respond, but all he could do was stand there, frozen. The whiskey bottle slipped from his grasp, shattering on the floor, the sound a metaphor for the walls he'd built around his heart. The alcohol pooled around their feet, a symbol of the chaos that had just been unleashed.

Rafe stared at her, his chest tightening. The room spun around him, the smell of gasoline and grease mixing with the faint scent of her perfume—a sweet, flowery scent that had haunted his dreams for so long. He didn't know how to react, didn't know what to do with the love she'd just laid bare in front of him. It was too much, too overwhelming.

But Y/N didn't back down. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "I've been in love with you for ages," she said, her voice steady. "I just didn't know how to tell you without breaking us apart."

Rafe's chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of his emotions. He wanted to believe her, to let himself feel the warmth of her love, but fear held him back. "What if it's not real?" he choked out. "What if it's just...just because you've known me so long?"

Y/N's hand moved up to cradle his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "It's real," she whispered. "I know you're scared, but I'm not going anywhere."

Rafe's eyes searched hers, desperation and doubt warring within him. He'd spent his whole life pushing people away, afraid to get too close, afraid to get hurt. But Y/N had always been there, a constant in the ever-changing landscape of his life. Her love was the one thing he hadn't expected, and the one thing he didn't know how to reject.

"Rafe," she said, her voice a gentle caress, "I'm not asking you to change who you are. I just want you to know that I'm here, that I see you. All of you."

Rafe's breath hitched, the warmth of her hand seeping into his skin. The fight, the whiskey, the weight of his unspoken feelings—it all crashed down on him like a wave. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he took a shaky breath. "What if I don't know how to love you?" he admitted, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

Y/N's thumb traced his jawline, her eyes never leaving his. "You already do," she said softly. "You just need to let yourself feel it."

Rafe closed his eyes again for a second before opening them up again, looking into the depths of hers. He could see the truth in her words, feel it in the way her hand trembled against his skin. He didn't know how to navigate this new terrain of emotions, but the thought of losing her was suddenly unbearable. He leaned into her touch, his body yearning for the comfort she offered.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay." It was all he could manage, but it was enough. Y/N's smile was like the sun breaking through a storm, lighting up the room.

They stood there for a moment, the tension in the air thick enough to slice with a knife. Rafe's heart hammered against his ribs as he felt Y/N's hand slip away from his cheek. He reached out, his own hand trembling, and took hers in his. Her skin was soft, a stark contrast to the calloused roughness of his own. For a brief moment, he felt like he could conquer the world.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to push you away."

Y/N squeezed his hand, the warmth of her touch grounding him. "It's okay," she said, her voice gentle. "I just want to be here for you."

Rafe's eyes searched hers, finding comfort in the familiar pools of kindness. He'd never let anyone in this deep before, but with Y/N, it felt...right. "I don't know how to do this," he confessed, his voice thick with vulnerability.

Y/N stepped closer, her free hand resting on his chest, right over his racing heart. "You don't have to," she assured him. "We'll figure it out..together."

[t3a-tan]

Romantic and Hopeless (7/?)

First / Previous / Next

---

Packing went pretty quickly. Oscar just chucked some spare clothes into his rucksack along with his phone, a water bottle, and some snacks. He took some stuff from the first aid kit, and some toiletries, but he was trying to pack light.

He could tell Sammy was getting more and more antsy as time went on— every time he glanced in her direction she was fidgeting more, her eyes darting towards the door. Not wanting to make her wait any more he finally grabbed a sleeping bag and rolled it up, putting it over his shoulder after zipping up his coat.

I think that's everything.

Walking back over to his bedside table where Sammy had been waiting anxiously he gave a sheepish smile, leaning down and offering his palm again.

“You ready..?”

Honestly, he wasn't even sure if he was ready. None of this felt real— the fact that his soulmate was shorter than his fingers, or the fact that there was a crazy doctor with a gun who would be coming after him. Just weeks ago he was worried about Sammy, but knew nothing more about her situation than that she was scared.

And now he was leaving his home for who knows how long, just to evade the danger of a mad man. Luckily he already didn't care much about his school attendance. Regardless, someone else's life took priority over something like school— he wasn't putting Sammy’s life in danger for an A-Level.

Oscar watched with bated breath as the weight of the borrower settled in his palm once again; so light that he hardly knew she was there. His fingers twitched at the ticklish feeling of her getting comfortable, but he held still, waiting patiently for her to be ready so he could lift her to his pocket.

“A-alright… I'm ready.” She spoke, her gaze turning up towards him and causing Oscar's face to heat up a little— not enough for her to notice hopefully. He nodded, raising his hand as he stood up straight, using the fingers on his other hand to hold the pocket on his coat open so she could drop in easier.

He watched as she shuffled across his palm, peeking into the pocket warily, seeming to debate herself on how to get in without hurting her ankle. Oscar winced. That problem had completely slipped his mind, but he let Sammy try to figure it out, not wanting to be too overbearing.

Soon enough she dropped inside and Oscar let his hand fall back to his side, looking down into his pocket.

“Sorted?”

He smiled at her nod and the offer of the tiniest thumbs up he had ever seen, holding back a chuckle.

“Kay. I won't close it for now, but if you want me to then just shout me, yeah?” Once again he waited for her confirmation, and once he got it he began to move, giving his room one last glance before closing the door.

He walked down the stairs, eyes drawn to the base of the bannister as he recalled Sammy's earlier fall. Humans could die falling down the stairs— he was relieved that she was still in one piece though the thought that she had been so scared she would make such a risky manoeuvre troubled him.

I can't expect her to trust me so quickly. I should've paid more attention… I can't just do stuff absentmindedly like grabbing her again.

He internally scolded himself, as much as he knew that it wouldn't change what had already happened. For now he needed to focus on getting to somewhere safe, and hopefully whilst Sammy was with him she would start to understand that he wasn't a threat.

Oscar dumped the bowl of shreddies out with a regretful expression. I don't like wasting food but…I'm in a hurry. With that he took his set of keys and locked the door behind him, this time having the sense to cover himself at least a little with a hat.

He kept his hood up and his head down, watching his boots as he walked along the pavement. Sammy was quiet, and Oscar couldn't help but glance into his pocket every now and then to check on her, part of him still worried that she might disappear at any moment; that she wasn't real and he was just crazy.

But there she was, laying in his pocket like it was an oversized hammock, picking at the threads of her dirty gown or inspecting her scrapes with an intense focus. It didn't matter what she was doing, she was a marvel to look at…

Her resilience was plain as day, and Oscar couldn't fathom why he would be matched with someone like her. He was a quitter of many things— the only thing he'd really ever been committed to was looking after his mum and getting a new vape whenever his current one ran out of juice.

A survivor? Maybe. Resilient? No.

His mum had told him many times that it wasn't his fault he got like this, but Oscar still felt like he wasn't doing enough. He wasn't living up to his potential, he wasn't hitting the milestones he should be, almost every adult in his life didn't expect much.

Singing. That was really all he had going for him. And even then, the thought of actually putting himself out there for others to see and judge was more than he could handle.

Absentmindedly he hummed a little self-soothing tune to himself.

He looked up at the sky for a moment, seeing how the sun was shining past the clouds despite the cold weather, illuminating his face. He winced in the sunlight, readjusting his sunglasses and looking down again.

He could remember being younger and enjoying playing out in the sun— but now even catching a glimpse left his head with a dull ache. He winced and kept walking. I hate going outside in the mornings…

It didn't take long for him to reach one of the nearby forests— the biggest one in the area in fact. It was shaded which brought much relief to Oscar's sensitive eyes, and felt like an easier way to evade the attention of Ryker.

There were no cameras here, that much he knew… in the more thickly wooded area there was an abandoned cabin that he and Freddie had hung out in a few times when they wanted to get away. Sure, it wasn't fully intact, but it had walls and a ceiling which made it better than sleeping on the forest floor.

“Hey, Sammy—” He looked down into his pocket and paused upon noticing she had fallen into a light sleep, her hands still clutching onto part of her gown in a loose but present grip. His heart swelled at the sight, seeing her stir once he stopped walking.

Was it the sway of my walk? Or my humming? Either way, I'm sure she was exhausted after the hectic morning she had. I know I am.

He decided not to comment on her brief sleep, not wanting to potentially embarrass her.

“Hey, Sammy.” He repeated again, pretending it was the first time. She looked up and met his gaze with a squint, silently questioning what he wanted. Oscar offered a reassuring smile. “We're in a forest now. There's no one nearby, if you want to come out and have a stretch then you can.”

He jolted at the sound of a bird screech from above, but as it seemed far off in the distance he ignored it. Sammy looked similarly startled.

“Forgot what those things sounded like…ugh.” She remarked, which made Oscar let out a sad chuckle. Although her tone was playful in the same way she usually was when they were talking telepathically, the truth of the statement made it sad. He didn't doubt that she really had forgotten what a bird sounded like.

“Are you…sure it's safe..?” She questioned more seriously, but Oscar could hear the nervousness hidden underneath. He glanced around once more before nodding.

“Yeah. If a bird decides you'll make a nice meal it'll have to chirp at me first.” He declared confidently, beaming as he heard a faint snort of laughter escape her, as quiet as it was.

“Alright…I'll come out. Just…be careful with me please…” She agreed with only a brief moment of hesitation.

Oscar nodded, reaching carefully into the pocket until he managed to catch her waist like before, gently pinching down and lifting her up. Once she was out of the pocket he released her onto his palm, fingers curling inwards slightly to form a barrier between her and the deadly drop to the grass.

He held his hand close to his chest just to make sure no birds actually did decide that Sammy would make a great target, but didn't cover her just to make sure she got a chance to look around.

“There are no windows down here.” He remembered their first conversation— and he could see by the spark of wonder in her eyes that it really had been a long time since she got to see anything outside of that basement. He let his hand stray from his chest slightly as he slowly crouched down, letting Sammy onto the ground before moving into a laying position.

In a shaded area, he could look up just fine as long as he wore his sunglasses, and he had lay in this forest many times when he felt like he needed a break from life. He took a deep breath, laying his head back on his arms that were folded behind him.

It was cold, but Oscar always preferred the winter weather.

“W-what are you doing?”

He glanced down to his side when he heard her confused questioning. He offered a lopsided smile in return.

“Breathing. It's nice, ‘int it? The fresh air and stuff.” Oscar looked back up at the branches above, most of which were missing leaves, but some were still fairing well even in the cold. He took in another deep breath. “Makes you forget that crazy geezer’s after us, right?”

“...right.” Oscar could tell she wasn't as enthusiastic about it, which was understandable. He doubted she had fully slowed down and relaxed for a very very long time. As he looked down at her he could tell that she was more focused on him than enjoying her surroundings. He slowly turned onto his side so the he was facing her better, seeing that she stumbled back slightly in response but didn't run.

“Try it. It's been a stressful…forever, hasn't it? I come here when I need help getting my head on straight. Closest I get to feeling like a kid again… maybe it'll help you relax, yeah?” He lay back again, closing his eyes.

He peeked them open after a few moments and saw that Sammy had actually lay down, her eyes closed in what looked more like an uncomfortable wince than anything relaxed, constantly shifting her position or fidgeting. Once she seemed to be mostly settled, he spoke again, shutting his eyes.

“Now take a deep breath…” He breathed in and after a moment he heard the very faint sound of an inhale coming from his right side. “And breathe out…” He exhaled and she followed suit.

Oscar opened his eyes again and looked over at her, smiling warmly.

“Feel better?”

He watched as she seemed to think about it, not responding for a few moments. Then finally…

“Um. No. I don't see how breathing would help…” She spoke bluntly, seeming genuinely confused. Oscar was taken off guard by the matter-of-fact response and couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Sammy flushed red at this, protesting. “I-I've never been much of a nature person and it's cold— it's not that funny..!”

“It— It’s not that— it's just…I was surprised, that's all.” He chuckled again, much to her dismay. Really Oscar found her flustered reaction adorable and wanted to comment on it but held back to avoid making her feel uncomfortable. Not to mention, she still didn't know that he knew he was her soulmate yet.

Sammy continued to shoot him a look, sitting up fully and brushing the dirt off of herself and muttering.

“What's funny about it, asshole…” He knew the insult was in jest, so he took no offence to it— he and Freddie had called each other much worse whenever they were bantering. The only thing that stopped him from laughing was how she paled after, recoiling away from him as if he would be angry.

Oscar's expression softened, a smile still present on his face as a sign of barely contained laughter. He cleared his throat, recognising what was wrong and knowing he needed to make it clear to her that he wasn't going to hurt her, regardless of whatever insult she chucked his way.

“Hey hey… Sammy. When I said you can call me whatever you want, that did include insults. I'm not upset, promise. And I'll stop laughing, okay?” His tone was careful. Luckily, unlike the last time Sammy had freaked out, she was quick to relax again. Or…relax as much as she could.

Sammy was in deep thought again— she seemed to do that a lot, even mid conversation she would have such long thoughtful pauses in between. Oscar waited, simply admiring how the winter sun lit up her features… and he noticed she was shaking.

Oh. Right…I'm in a coat, she's not even got shoes. No wonder she couldn't relax, dumbass.

He moved to push himself up, mouth opening in order to offer her a place back in his pocket…then suddenly a weight hit him right in the chest, winding him and causing him to hit his head back against the forest floor with a wince of pain.

Despite his initial surprise from the attack, as his ears registered Sammy's frightened cry his hand immediately shot towards her to try to protect her. His eyes widened as he realised that the weight on his chest that had left him reeling and breathless was a bird. A big one at that.

Just as he managed to get his breath back enough to focus on getting Sammy away from the giant bird of prey, a shout stopped him in his tracks.

“Get your hand away from her..!”

Oscar watched in shock as a man just as tiny as Sammy hopped off of the back of a buzzard that was about 4-5 times his size with the confidence of a dragon rider. He walked across his chest, wielding a rather intimidating porcupine quill in one hand, fire in his eyes.

It was familiar, in a way.

With dark almond skin, and slicked back hair that was almost black, he really did look like he could be related to Sammy. The only major differences were his green eyes that matched Oscar's own, and the tiny pair of spectacles sat atop his nose.

Oscar leaned his head back instinctively when the quill was pointed at his face, but he didn't move his hand from where it was, wary of the bird still perched on his chest. The threatening borrower took notice of his gaze and hummed, thinking…

All very familiar.

“Gale is harmless to borrowers. Now release my cousin, or I will demonstrate just how deeply this quill can embed itself into your skin.” His expression hardened and Oscar swallowed nervously, knowing just by the look in the tiny man's eyes that he would definitely stab him if he thought he was a threat.

Maybe this forest isn't so relaxing. Oscar blinked.

“Wh— Wait…cousin?!”

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: New Neighbor

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[Word count 1210 Cw: blood, foul language]

————————

Even while recovering, Alastor had to be dramatic. So when he dropped you both into the group in front of the rebuilt hotel, his joining the song and grand gestures did not surprise you. What did was Charlie suddenly hugging him and Alastor allowing her.

The princess was stronger than she knew. Alastor was more stubborn than anyone but you realized. So even though his theatrics and her squeeze tore some stitches, he refused to show it. The benefit of entirely red clothing was that a bit of blood wasn’t noticeable.

As soon as you could manage, you insisted the pair of you look over your new suite. Walking to the top floor would have been a struggle and you weren’t up to flying again yet. Fortunately the new building had elevators installed.

Alastor had recreated his broadcast studio on a corner penthouse level and naturally had claimed the closest rooms for you both. He hadn’t recreated the bayou yet, but there were more pressing concerns. Namely redoing his stitches.

Once in the room you ordered, “Sit down Alastor.” You didn’t let him argue as you removed his jacket and shirt. The bandages wrapped around his torso had absorbed most of the blood but now they definitely needed replacing. “Zut alors, you just had to overdo it out there.”

You brought out both a last aid kit and your sewing kit. As you gathered up towels, warm water and disinfectant, you continued to vent. “I know you like to cultivate an air of invulnerability, cher, but that was too much.” Returning to his side you started unwinding the bandages. “Granted you didn’t expect Charlie to hug you like that, but all that flailing about did not help.”

His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. “That’s enough,” he growled hoarsely. His antlers were starting to grow in anger but he didn’t put any pressure on your wrist.

“No Alastor, it’s not,” you replied firmly. You didn’t pull your hand away but you did turn his head to face you. You locked eyes with your husband, staring straight into the radio dials. “If you get hurt, I’m the one that patches you up. If you get hurt doing something stupid, I’m still the one patching you up, but I’m allowed to be angry about it.”

He huffed and released your wrist. You continued unwrapping and cleaning that gash across his chest. “I don’t want to be stitching you back up constantly because you’re pretending to be invincible.” You might have said more but a voice at the door interrupted.

“Lover’s quarrel? You really should close the door if you’re going to do that.”

“Fuck!” you screeched, reflexively launching a stiletto at the voice.

“Whoa!” The figure blinked away in a burst of sparks, popping back into existence next to you. The blade thudded into the hallway.

“Careful there!” Lucifer admonished. “We just built these floors.”

You hissed at the fallen angel. “I wouldn’t have to be careful if someone wasn’t eavesdropping.”

He just smiled as you returned to focusing on Alastor. “Someone wouldn’t be eavesdropping if someone else had closed their door properly.” He leaned down to look at the wound you were starting to stitch together again. “Oof, that from when Adam swung at you? You took quite a hit there buddy.”

Alastor glared at him furiously. “GET. OUT,” he snarled, his ever present smile straining in his anger.

As much as you agreed with him, what Lucifer said made you start. “How did you know Adam hit him? The only ones that saw the fight were the exorcists and me.” Some of your flock might have seen it, but they were rather occupied.

“I was watching the whole time,” he replied blithely. With a snap, he produced an ornate set of opera glasses on an elegant handle. “Had to keep an eye on my little girl in case she needed help.”

“You were just watching?!” You and Alastor yelled together. If he had shown up before the angels arrived, he could have handled everything.

“Yup! Charlie didn’t ask me to join the fight, so I wanted to give her the chance to take care of it.” He paused. “I do feel bad about the snake guy, though. Oh, and that you two got banged up by that douchebag.”

You hissed again, feeling your feathers turn metallic. Still, you turned back to the curved needle in your hand. Alastor’s claws dug into the chair; you couldn���t be sure of it was from anger or the feeling of needle and thread sliding through his skin. Probably both.

“GET OUT,” he repeated, now looking like he’d enjoy tearing Lucifer’s throat out if he wasn’t stuck in place.

“And leave my new neighbors in their time of need?” He shook his head mockingly. “Charlie would never let me hear the end of it.”

You did your best to focus and finish quickly. “Got it back together, cher.” His grip on the chair didn’t ease up. He really is a terrible patient, you thought as you placed a gauze pad on the gash. You reached for a roll of bandages, only to find Lucifer holding it out to you.

Annoyed, you grabbed it with a quiet “merci.” Winding the bandage around Alastor to keep the pad in place, you could feel Lucifer’s gaze on your back. Your husband was getting more and more irritated as the king of Hell kept watching you.

Then, as you finished securing the bandage: “You’re gonna need a splint on that wing.” You blinked in confusion. Alastor was similarly surprised at Lucifer’s statement.

“Never had a wing injury before?” he prodded. You shook your head. “You’re one lucky gal.” He clapped his hands and a small pile of supplies appeared. “It’s got to be stabilized. And no attempts to fly until it’s fully healed if you want it back to normal.” He gestured for Alastor to get up, not caring at all that he was ordering the Radio Demon around. Of course he didn’t, he ruled over all of Hell. He outranked every Sinner, Overlord or not.

With permission, he examined your wing. “Alright deerboy, I’ll show you what to do so you can take care of your missus.” That did seem to calm Alastor down a bit and he begrudgingly let Lucifer demonstrate. Shortly, your wing was braced by thin rods and bandages. “Remember, no flying at all.”

You grumbled, only for Alastor to lean down (slowly, taking his wound into account) and say with exaggerated sweetness, “I’ll be patching you up, cher. And if I have to resplint your wing because you did something stupid, then I’m allowed to be angry, yes?”

Dammit, you thought to yourself. Aloud you said, “Fair enough,” with equal sarcastic sweetness.

Satisfied, Lucifer grabbed his apple topped cane with a twirl. “I’m making pancakes if you two want any.” He sauntered out, humming contentedly.

You sighed gustily. “Let’s get you a new shirt, darling.” As you helped Alastor button up the bright red shirt, he realized something.

“He said ‘new neighbors,’” he stated, the static disappearing from his voice. You both stopped dead, processing what that meant. Meeting each other’s eyes, there was only one thing to say, in unison again.

“Ffffuck!”

———————

Taglist: @whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

[cowgurrrl]

NFWMB

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader 

Summary: What was it Bill said about protecting the ones we love? [1.5k]

Author’s note: I can’t stop writing and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem

Warnings: canonical type violence, treatment of injuries, reader being a badass because I said so, pre-Ellie Bellie

He's limping when he walks through the door, his right foot dragging along his left as if it were a nuisance. You turn from where you're washing dishes to catch him trying right himself so he can pretend he's not hurt. The blood on his face and hands give him away more than anything else—anger and panic blossom in your chest as he looks at you with tired, regretful eyes. 

"Sit." You say, jerking your head in the direction of the kitchen table. You dry your hands on a towel before pulling the first aid kit off the fridge.

"It's nothing."

"You're bleeding. Sit," you double down, and he sighs before finally settling into a chair. You soak a rag in alcohol as you walk over to him, standing between his legs to get a good view of the cuts on his face. All things considered, he's not in horrible shape. Bruised and bloody, sure, but alive. He hisses when the rag touches his split eyebrow, and his hand grips the table. His scabbed knuckles break open, only adding to his pain and dripping blood down his hands. You slide the alcohol over to him, and he quickly takes a big swig. "Who did this?" 

"It was just a deal gone bad with a FEDRA officer." He says as he puts the bottle back down, the cut on his lip leaves blood on the rim of it. The idea of him getting beat down by FEDRA makes you want to scream. This is why you take someone with you on drops, you think. 

"Who?" 

"Stone." He finally gives you the name, and you give him a look. 

"I told you to stop doing deals with him."

"I had it under control."

"Sure looks like it," you say, grabbing his hand to hold the rag to his face as you grab a butterfly bandage. "And where is Stone now?"

"In the hospital. 'M pretty sure I broke his nose," he says smugly, and you hum in acknowledgment. He falls quiet as you take the rag from him to stick the bandage to his eyebrow. A noise of protest rumbles in his throat at the pressure, but then it's over. "I give it a week before he's crawling back for pills."

"He can go through withdrawal for all I fucking care." You mutter under your breath as you put your hand on his jaw, turning his face this way and that to get a better look at his injuries. He turns and kisses the inner part of your wrist. You would've melted if you weren't so pissed at the bruises blooming on his face. 

It's good that Stone is already in the hospital because otherwise, you would've marched out to find him. Joel may look scarier, but there's no limit to what you can do when rage pulses through your veins like this. He knows that. He's seen it happen a handful of times, and it's always right after he or Tess gets hurt on a drop. Something shifts within you, and suddenly there is no god out there more dangerous than you. Your enemies become less concerned about getting out alive and more about how fast you'll let them die. If Joel weren't so wrapped around your finger, he'd be terrified of you.

"I'm fine. I came back to you, didn't I?" He says, and you sigh. You step closer and kiss the top of his head, relishing in the feel of his curls brushing your face. His stained hands come up to rest on your waist, further grounding you in his presence. "I'll always come back to you. You don't need to worry about that, you hear me?"

"I hear you, and I love you," you say as you kiss him. He tastes like blood and whiskey. "Do you know when he'll get out of the hospital?" 

"Probably by the end of the week." He says as you pull his hands from your waist to wipe the fresh blood from his knuckles. You press around for broken bones as you think about the best way to ruin Stone's life. Joel doesn't wrench his hands from you, so you take that as a good sign.

"What do you think his wife will say when I tell her about the other girls he’s fucking when he's supposed to be out on patrol?" You ask, and it's his turn to give you a disapproving look. 

"Don't fuck with his family."

"He fucked with mine first." You snap, and he sighs. Big brown eyes bore into yours, but you're unflinching. A puff of air leaves his nose, and he smirks.

"Y'know, it's really not fair how hot you are when you're angry." The fire in your veins settles for just a moment, and you press your tongue into your cheek.

"Is that why you keep picking fights with FEDRA officers?" You tease as you throw the rag down on the table to squeeze your way up each of his arms, checking for broken bones.

"Somethin' like that," he shrugs as your hands fall to his ribs. “Are you tryin' to make a move on me? Because that'd just be inappropriate. I've just been beaten," He asks, and you laugh. He smiles at the sound and doesn't wince as you count each rib to ensure they're intact. He stands once you're satisfied that nothing's broken and snags his fingers through your belt loops to pull you flush against him. The world seems to still as his heart beats against yours, and your panic dies in your throat. He kisses you firmly like he's trying to prove how okay he is. Your hands thread through his hair, and he groans when you tug at his roots. The sound makes you dizzy, and you want to hear it again and again. "Don't tell his wife just yet. We'll need leverage over him in the future." He says against your lips, making you pull away. He looks defeated, and you squint at him.

"Were you trying to distract me so I would forget about Stone?"

"Was it working?"

"Miller," you scold. "So, you just want me to do nothing and let him get away with it?"

"That's not what I'm saying. We're gonna make him sweat. Tell him we haven't gotten any shipment in. Withdrawal makes him desperate, and once he's desperate enough, we give him half of what we normally do but charge him double. Make him rely on us more. We might even get some new guns out of it, but we can't do that if he's fuckin' dead." He explains, and you roll your eyes. He's right. You hate that he's right, but he is.

"Fine, but I swear to God, Joel, if he puts his hands on you again-"

"I will hand you the gun myself. Okay?" He asks, and you nod. "Good. Now, can we please talk about something else? I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"I was gonna make it all romantic, but that went to shit." He says as he lets go of you and reaches for his backpack. You watch as he rummages through his stuff until he pulls out a big brown bag and hands it to you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion until you open it, and the sweet aroma of coffee smacks you in the face. There's so much of it. The bag has to be at least half a pound. You didn't even know that there was this much coffee left in the world, let alone that Joel would find a way to get some. You take one bean between your shaky fingers and dig a nail into it, grounds collecting under your nail.

"Holy shit, these are real," you breathe, and he nods. "What'd you trade for this?"

"You don't want to know."

"You can tell me if you whored yourself out for coffee beans. I would do the same thing." You say, and he laughs.

"I'll remember that for next time," He says, making you smile. You glance between the coffee beans and him and take a deep breath. Even though it's small and stupid and probably costs more than they're worth, the idea of Joel going out of his way simply so you two could share coffee in the mornings makes your heart swell. Twenty years ago, sitting on a porch somewhere and drinking it first thing in the morning may have been your norm, but it never meant as much as it does right now. You carefully put the bag on the table before wrapping him in a hug. "Was that a good surprise?" He asks softly, like he's afraid if he says it too loud, the world will crumble around us. You nod and kiss his shoulder.

"It's perfect. Thank you." 

The beans will probably be gone by the end of the month, and it will probably be another two years before we get an opportunity to trade for them again, but this feeling in your chest will keep you warm for much longer than any cup of coffee could. It's almost enough to forget that the world is falling apart outside, and someone tried to take him away from you today. Almost.

Give me my last paragraph back or give me death

[steddie-island]

First Responder

@steddieholidaydrabbles day 26 - "Who did this to you?" Rating: T | WC: 972 | CW: Blood, off-screen violence, possessive Tommy Hagan (also off-screen) Read the full list of tags on ao3

Steve had seen enough bad shit in his life to know that a trail of blood droplets was never a good thing. It was just luck that Robin had forgotten something and needed him to run back to the school and get it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have noticed the spray of blood outside of the bandroom, wouldn’t have been able to follow it down the hallway and towards the bathroom, where the droplets seemed to get fatter and almost puddle. “Christ,” he murmured as he tried to push the door open. Almost immediately, though, someone else was slamming against it on the other side, barring it closed from him. “Fuck off!” came a voice that Steve recognized, even if he couldn’t place. “Leave me the fuck alone, man!” Steve pressed a hand to the door. “Uh– hey. I just noticed the blood out here. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” There was a moment of quiet hesitation, but then the person on the other side of the door was groaning softly. When Steve tried it again, the door pushed open easily. “Uh, hey– oh fuck.” Eddie Munson stood in front of the sink with a bloody nose and a split eyebrow over an eye already swelling and turning varying shades of purple. “Eddie, holy shit–” “I’m fine,” Eddie murmured. He spat blood into the sink, though, which really didn’t do much in his favor. “Just– get outta here, Harrington.” Steve shook his head and stepped closer. For once it was actually a relief that the water in the bathroom sinks never warmed up and ran stupidly cold when the temperature dropped outside. He wet a paper towel and held it out. “You want some help with that?” “No, man.” Eddie pushed his hair out of his face, revealing a nasty bruise up by his forehead, too. “Just go.”

“Eddie, c’mon.” Steve frowned and crowded into Eddie’s space, something that the other boy was usually the one doing. “Let me take a look and make sure you’re really okay. Please?” Eddie was tired, too fucking tired to argue, and he nodded before moving his hands away from his face. “It’s nothing, Harrington. Really. Just– ran into the wrong person at the wrong time. I’m used to it.” Steve winced as he dabbed at Eddie’s brow, which was still dripping blood down his face but did seem to at least be slowing down. “Who did this to you?” he asked softly. 

“Does it matter?” Eddie closed his eyes, hissed as Steve’s touch made his head ache that much more. The cold towel did help, though, even if just a little. “Yeah. It does. It matters to me.” He got up to grab more paper towels for Eddie to hold them under his nose, to at least stop the blood from getting into his mouth. “Hold that there, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared, came back a minute later with a first aid kit in his hands. 

Steve guided Eddie to lean against the sink and crowded that much closer, between the space of his legs. He was aware of Eddie’s eyes on him as he pulled out antiseptic and gauze. “I’m really sorry, this is gonna hurt,” he murmured. 

Eddie didn’t hiss, though, barely winced, and that made Steve’s chest ache for him. “Who did this to you?” he whispered as he held the gauze to Eddie’s skin to help staunch the blood flow. 

Those damn eyes, so dark and deep and wide, never left his face even as Steve pulled the butterfly bandages out of the first aid kit. He’d done this enough times that he settled into it almost mindlessly. 

“Your old buddy Hagan.” Eddie’s hands gripped the sink as Steve smoothed the bandages into place. “We’ve never been friendly, but I… guess he saw us hanging out after Hellfire the other day, decided to make sure I knew to stay away from you.” 

The breath caught in Steve’s throat. “Jesus, Eddie. Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry. I haven’t been friends with Hagan in–” “No, I know.” Eddie tossed the towels into the trash and accepted clean ones, and he used those to see if he was still bleeding from his nose, too. Everything seemed to have stopped, so he pushed away from the sink, away from Steve, and turned to wash the evidence off of his face. It was going to be hard enough seeing the worry on Wayne’s face when he got home. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s still hung up on you.” “I’m not hung up on–” “Steve, I know.” 

Steve watched him in the mirror, but Eddie was very pointedly not looking back at him as he scrubbed blood from his chin, his neck. It was all over the front of his Hellfire shirt but there was nothing that could be done about that just now. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets, to have something to do with them. “I forgot what a possessive dickhead he can be.” “Yeah. He seems to still think he has a claim on you.” Eddie finally looked up, but he still didn’t meet Steve’s gaze. He leaned in to inspect his eyebrow. “You do good work, Harrington.” “It was a butterfly bandage, there’s not much to it. And I, uh… guess I’m used to it, too.” Between Jonathan, and Tommy, and fucking Billy, he’d long learned to keep a first aid kit somewhere he could get to it quickly. Finally that searching gaze found his again in the mirror, and Eddie smiled a little. “Maybe that means we should stick together around here. United front and all that.” Steve flushed pink, because there were a couple of reasons that he didn’t hate the sound of the two of them spending more time together.  “Yeah. Maybe we should.”