#STOP!!! TOUCHING ABES STITCHES YOU IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[freakova]

Alright I need to say 2 things about Soulstorm

1) Molluck would definitely, 100% say a slur. He is 100% a racist let's just face those facts.

2) There is a lot of sexual tension between everyone and Abe's stitches

#Soulstorm Spoilers #STOP!!! TOUCHING ABES STITCHES YOU IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #I don't wanna make any serious points about the game yet cause I wanna wait til Ive seen all the levels #....I will say--however--I have rage quit 3 times today #One being just now and I wanna go for a walk but its -3 LMAO #Also don't get me started on the intro #I don't wanna give my thoughts when I'm in a salty mood #I think I might just be tired

[bakubub]

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00​ for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #racer!kuroo #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyu fics #haikyuu!! #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo x you

[akatsukinojutsu]

the waltz of combat -- uchiha madara

Hi! Can I request some fun play fighting (or as he likes to call it-dancing) with madara haha! Thank you! --

Madara insists that the two of you spar (dance) to bring up his energy after he suffers an injury

Madara was mildly obsessed with you. No. He was obsessed with you. From the very moment that he watched you fight on the battlefield, he knew that he wanted you to be his. So, he did everything that he could do to make sure that he would get what he wants.

The Uchiha wasn’t your boyfriend but he might’ve well had been. He fucked you on the regular and thrived on making you sob in ecstasy under him. Every male in the clan knew to never look your way let alone touch you. A few learned their lesson when their fingers were broken when Madara heard they tried to make their move on you.

His obsession bothered you at times because he often scared away any potential relationship. Madara made is clear that everything between the two of you was strictly physical. You believed that. However, that could be further from the truth. Madara made a pact to himself as well as you (without your knowledge) that he would return safely from the battlefield every time; so that he could feel the touch of your skin again and feel your soft voice whisper his name. He would’ve never guessed these feelings he had were love. Love and infatuation. 

He loved the way the candlelight glinted off of your dark doe eyes while he smothered you with wet kisses. He loved to hear your whimpers and squeaks when he ravished your body. He loved the fact that you small hands fit perfectly into his. That is something that kept him going and was just as important to him as his mission.

When Madara did not arrive home on time -- you thought the worse. He had given you a key to his house and told you that if he wasn’t home at the specific times then most likely he perished or something bad had happened. You balled the bottom of your shirt in your fists as you rolled the fabric nervously. Madara should be back by now... but he wasn’t.

You went to the door to go and search for him but he stumbled into the home when you opened it. He stumbled to the floor and you went to his aid. Madara had his hand clenched over his abdomen and red liquid was spread throughout his clothing.

“You’re hurt!” you cried as you tried to move his hand from his wound. Madara’s palm peeled back slightly and you were able to assess his wound, it was rather large. “Let me help you,” you tried to pull his shirt off but he hissed at your affection. “I’m fine!” he tried to stand up but stumbled back down to his knees. “Don’t be an idiot. Let me help you.” you pushed.

Madara continued to protest against your advances but eventually gave in when you managed to tug his clothing down past his shoulders. The Uchiha let you look at his wounds as he winced in pain. “Big bad clan leader is acting like this is a big deal,” you chuckled. “Shut up,” Madara snapped.

You filled a bowl with warm water and grabbed a washcloth. “I’m going to clean you up before I patch that wound with some stitches.” Your hand dipped into the bowl and wrung the fabric out. You proceeded to run the warm water over his torso. Your hands gliding across his chiseled form -- running over his pectorals, down his sternum, and to his muscular stomach. You could feel his abs through the thin washcloth, his body was god-like. 

Each abdominal muscle seemed as if it were carefully crafted. Each space in between them held water because they were so defined and you felt lost in admiration of his body.

Madara grabbed your wrist which pulled you back to reality. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Your cheeks heated up and you shook your head before attending to your duties. You quickly stitched him up and insisted that he went to bed. You somewhat aided him to his room but he mostly walked on his own, pushing past the ache in his side. 

Madara observed you from his bed when he laid down, his dark eyes watched you change in front of him before you crawled in beside him.

Despite his rather large wound in his side, he insisted that you laid on him for the night. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder tightly to ensure that you wouldn’t go anywhere. Knowing that you were there and feeling your body heat was sublime.

When you woke, you didn’t find Madara. He most likely was doing something that he shouldn’t be with an injury as extensive as what he had. You shuffled through his home and rubbed your tired eyes as you peered into each room in search of him. Soon you heard grunts coming from behind a door. They were Madara’s and your blood boiled at the thought of him possibly plowing himself into another woman. I mean -- things between the two of you were only physical, right?

You opened the door quickly to see Madara training with a post in his dojo. Relief washed over you when his grunts were not from having sex with another woman, but you immediately were concerned for his injury.

“What are you doing?!” you called out to him and he delivered another kick to the post before stopping. Madara turned to you and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Training,” he bent over to grab a towel from the floor and wiped his bare chest.

“You have stitches in your side! Are you trying to pop them?” you took a step toward him. Madara lent his hand out, “Dance with me.”

You knew that he meant to spar and not literal dancing. A sigh left your nostrils, “You’re going to rip the stitches, Madara.” His hand lightly wrapped around your throat and he pushed you up against the wall. His nose pressed against the crook of your neck and he breathed in your musk.

“Dance. With. Me.” he insisted. Madara placed a wet kiss in replacement of his nose, an erotic shiver shook down your spine. He pulled himself off of you and held his hand out in a fighting stance. You obliged and opted to give him a swift kick to his palm. Madara smiled at your strength and threw a punch. You blocked it with your palm and went for a punch, which the male blocked it with ease.

The two of you threw punches back and forth, dodging and blocking. Madara was much faster than you which you began to struggle with blocking his blows. He didn’t let up on his speed because he knew that you were better than how much you were currently trying. Despite having an injury, his abilities and strength were impressive. 

You landed a soft kick to the side of Madara’s head. Which prompted a wide grin from your lips but a frustrated look on Madara’s face. He was able to give you a jab to your stomach which caused you to take a few steps back. Madara lunged at you, picked you up, and lightly slammed you to the matted floor.

The two of you breathed heavily and locked eyes. You both stared into each other’s dark eyes and stayed in silence for quite sometime. Madara remembered all the reasons why he loved being around you. Seeing you under him, sweat pooling from your pores, and reflecting on the waltz of combat; he was absorbed. A warm fluttered feeling spread through his chest, fuck, he knew what he was about to confess.

“You’re -- my -- everything, [Y/N].” he quietly admitted. You blinked several times as you processed what he said. “Wh-What?” Madara sighed, “Don’t make me say it,” he pressed his lips against yours. 

“Are you trying to say that you’re in love with me, Madara-sama?”

Madara paused for a moment and turned his face from yours.

“What do you think?” he asked, almost embarrassed. You couldn’t help but see the Uchiha leader act like a schoolboy confessing his crush.

You cupped his cheek and placed a kiss on his lips. “It’s okay, I completely understand.”

#naruto imagines #madara uchiha imagines #madara imagines #madara uchiha x reader #madara x reader #naruto x reader #naruto #madara uchiha #madara

[inaflashimagine]

Practice Makes Perfect, Pendejo (Jason Todd x Reader)

A/N: Decided to make reader bilingual because as a Latina I love Spanglish :) might also write a prequel or sequel for this one, let me know what you think

Few Translations:

Maldita sea = dammit

Gallina = chicken

Pendejo = dumbass

Bobo, tonto, idiota = idiot, moron

Huevón = stupid

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: sexual references, innuendos

—

Loud music caused your bedroom walls to vibrate and jolt you awake, followed by incessant knocking on your apartment door.

You groaned, covering your head with your pillow. You knew what time it was.

“Maldita sea, Todd.”

You were glad your dad–the landlord–was working his night shift at the hospital so he couldn’t hear the neighbors complaining about Jason playing what your 85-year-old tenant Beatrice Copeland called, “The Devil’s music!”

“Yes, no worries, Ms. Copeland, I’m heading upstairs right away.”

And up you went as you knocked on Jason’s door, mentally preparing yourself for the sight you were about to see.

AC/DC stopped playing and the door swung open, only his disheveled hair poking out. “I was worried you weren’t going to come. Took ya long enough!”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s 3 am.” He let you in as you began looking at him from head to toe, trying to assess any injuries.

You noticed the crimson red spot on his lower right abdomen and sighed. “Where’d you leave my kit this time?”

He sat on his couch as he grunted, “Upper left cabinet next to fridge!”

Aside from being the daughter of the landlord, you were a nursing student. You learned of Jason’s ‘nightly activities’ when he once played heavy metal music at 4 am, much to everyone’s dismay. Your father asked you to pay him a visit.

And when you knocked on his door, you were alarmed to see him with a large laceration on his forehead, a swollen black eye, bruised knuckles, and several other wounds. You also saw an unconscious man on the coffee table.

His only response to your gaping face. “You’re a nurse, right?”

Which started your friendship and you fixing his many injuries. His equivalent of a bat signal to ask for help? Playing loud music. But he switched to classic rock when you begged him to stop playing heavy metal and save everyone’s ears.

And after a year, these visits became routine. You sat next to him on the couch, opening the kit and getting supplies ready.

“You know, you could just text me instead of playing Back in Black for the 100th time.”

“And you know that your snoring would prevent you from hearing those texts.”

“Touché,” you muttered as you lightly swatted his shoulder and tried not to match his wide grin. “Y quítate la camisa, tonto.” 

Jason heard that command so many times that he knew what it meant, so he rolled his eyes and obeyed.

“Most women ask me to take off my shirt in nicer ways. Some even beg.”

“Right, I’m sure they’re begging to see you bleed all over the couch, too.”

“They’re usually distracted by the thunder thighs and abs.”

“What abs?” you snickered as he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but wince when your gloved hand lightly touched his wound and he let out a hiss. It didn’t look that deep but it definitely needed stitches.

“What happened this time?”

“I let one of Black Mask’s dummies stab me so he wouldn’t feel like a total loser.”

“Oh, you let him? Or were you caught off guard?”

“Shh, you weren’t even there.”

You tsked and left it at that. You usually refrained from asking too much, something he appreciated. Instead, you decided to adopt a lighter tone.

“At least branch out in the music, dude. The girls in this unit keep drooling over you because you play rock music and ride a motorcycle when you’re really just a sensitive, emo potato.”

“Awww, are you jealous?”

“In your dreams!” 

“Actually, you occasionally make the appearance. Hopefully I’m a frequent guest in yours.”

His sly smile and wink made you scoff. You thought he would stop (when did he ever?) but he continued on.

“Well, if anything, they should be jealous since they don’t get to touch me as much as you-OUCH! What was that for?!”

“Gallina, I was injecting the anesthetic. Although I might’ve gone in a bit harder than I should’ve. Must’ve been an accident.” Your smirk suggested otherwise.

“That’s what I tell every girl in bed, too.”

A smile tugged at your lips, trying not to laugh. You failed, which caused a smug grin to appear on his face.

Well, two can play at this game.

You began suturing the wound, attempting to ignore his intense stare. Those blue eyes made you realize you’re one of the unit girls you constantly made fun of. Although you’d never admit it...

“I swear you’ve been getting more hurt lately, are you doing this on purpose just to see me? There are easier ways. Some guys ask the girl out or at least text.”

“Again with the texting. Wouldn’t you rather see this brilliant smile in person?”

“Not when I have to stitch your wounds, pendejo.”

“Don’t know what that means but it sounded hot.”

“Trust me, it’s not a term of endearment.”

“Well, don’t keep me hanging.”

“There’s multiple meanings. But in this case, it means ‘dumbass’, pendejo.”

“Ha! I’ve been called worse.”

“I didn’t realize I was in a competition. That word is far from my best weapon!”

“Care to share your arsenal, then?”

“No, bobo, I pull back my punches when the guy is too weak to fight back.”

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Felt that in the heart, not sure you can stitch that one up.”

“You joke, but a good thing about these visits is that I’m now the best student in suturing workshops. Practice makes perfect, I guess? I’m basically a pro.”

“Oh, I didn’t know pros take longer than needed to stitch their patient up.”

“Hey! If we’re talking about pros then you shouldn’t be getting hurt every night.”

“Damn, I thought you said you were holding back the punches!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll shut up!” you conceded.

“I can take it like a champ. Least I can do when you help a pen-de-ho like me.”

You guffawed at his horrible accent but appreciated the effort. But you immediately froze when he said the next line:

“Besides, I like talking to you.”

You fell into silence, although a million thoughts were flooding your head.  

“Well, now you’re too quiet.”

You finished stitching him up and cleaned his wounds before applying gauze. You took a deep breath before disclosing, “Huevón, you know me. I ramble when I’m nervous.”

Another moment of silence ensued, this time more tense. To avoid his gaze, which were burning holes into you, you began cleaning your instruments. Usually he would put his shirt back on when you were packing up stuff, maybe even start his kettle so you guys could drink tea and chat a bit before you left.

But this time he remained shirtless, still looking at you, processing what you said earlier and contemplating his next words.

“What makes you nervous?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you closed the kit, removed your gloves, and began to twiddle your thumbs. You looked anywhere but at him.

You let out a shaky sigh, surprised that tears were threatening to well up in your eyes. Fuck it, I’ll just say the truth.

“It pains me to see you get hurt so often. Sometimes I get scared that one day my skills won’t be enough and I don’t even know what’d I do then–”

You felt a warm hand touch your cheek and then chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. They were steady, determined.

“You don’t have to worry. You have my word on that.”

“I trust you. But I don’t trust the ones you fight. They play dirty.”

“And I play dirtier.” You both cringed immediately at that line. “Okay, that came out wrong.”

“Ya think?!”

You both laughed softly, feeling some of your concern dissipate.

“What I mean is that I’ll be more careful, Y/N, even if that means I have to see less of you.”

You pursed your lips before offering a slight smile. His fingers ran through your hair, and you leaned into the touch, your shoulders relaxed at his soothing actions and sincere words.

“Thank you, but getting less hurt doesn’t have to equate to seeing less of me.”

He gave a small smile. “No, it doesn’t. Guess I should start texting you more.”

You felt his hands gently touch your hips as his face got closer to yours, an action he did slowly so you could say no if you wanted. But you didn’t and your heart rate quickened when he began tracing circles on you with his thumbs.

“I mean that would be nice...it would also be nice to see you at regular hours when you’re not covered in bloo–”

Jason’s lips crashed onto yours. Overcoming your initial shock, you eagerly returned the kiss, your mouth allowing his tongue entrance while he placed you on his lap.

You quickly pulled back, in a daze but still with enough breath to say, “Idiota, you’re gonna get your stitches ripped with too much force!”

Jason only answered by kissing your neck fervently, which made it harder for you to scold him as you tilted your head back and your breath hitched.

“Good thing I know a nursing student. ‘Practice makes perfect’, right?”

“Mmmhmmm, how about we skip tea time and see if that theory works in bed?”

Jason simply smirked. “Why not test it now on this couch?”

You kissed him again–this was the first time you actually agreed with the idiota.

#jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfic #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x nurse!reader #red hood #redhood x reader #red hood x reader #dc comics reader insert #dc comics imagine #jason todd x bilingual!reader #spanglish is fun #curse words in spanish are better than curse words in english

[blackaquokat]

Testify to the Bleeding Heart

Fandom: Who Killed Markiplier?

Pairing: DAtective (Abe x the District Attorney)

Summary: In which an unfortunate side effect of past tragedies comes to light during an intimate moment.

A/N: So while the next chapter of Satisfied kicks my butt, have this little DAtective drabble I wrote in a fit of inspiration back in April, half-inspired by a post @raimeyl made about their sister’s thoughts about Abe and what happens with his bullet wound. Go follow them if you haven’t, btw!

Some references are made to my series Law & Disorder, which you can read on ao3 here , because you may understand this better...no idea if this will be canon to the series or just a fun side piece , but still.

TW for blood and a touch of gore.

--

When you look back on this moment far later, you will have no recollection of how the hell it started.

Abe probably said something stupid, which is about as surprising as finding a fish underwater.

It is oddly intriguing, the way he throws about his words without thinking first. Where you have spent your entire life hoarding your words and arguments like a warrior hides weapons under their armor, every time Abe speaks, it’s like he throws a rock directly into a hornet’s nest and waits until the insects fly out before running off to safety.

Most times it leads to amusing situations. Other days it gets the bastard stung all over and you end up yelling at him for not watching his mouth—

Ah, right. That’s how it started.

You were thinking about Abe’s mouth, which lead to the memory of that soul-searing kiss you both shared before the world cracked open and swallowed you whole.

Now…

“You alright, Partner?”

Abe’s concern pries you from your musings. He’s standing by the tragically small dining room table (essentially a white plastic square with legs), arms folded across his chest.

You don’t know what it is about the Detective that suddenly makes you brave, but you know for a fact that whatever this is between the both of you?

It’s special. It’s real.

It hurts like a bitch, it burns your veins and cracks your heart, it makes you smile like an idiot, and gives you more hope than anything else in your life.

(You had considered kissing him long before the alcohol melted into your system at that doomed party, if only to keep him from digging his own grave by opening his mouth and speaking. Had you known what would happen afterward, you probably wouldn’t have stopped kissing him for the rest of the night.)

This is what you tell yourself as you approach Abe, stepping forward each time he steps back, which is only two steps until he’s up against the wall.

He’s staring at you with a strange mix of fear, arousal, and...possibly adoration.

You really hope you aren’t about to ruin the only good thing left in your life.

You stop when your toes touch his. This is his chance to push you away. You’ll understand. It will probably hurt you beyond repair, and that will be the final sign that love just isn’t something meant for you, but as long as you can keep Abe in your life, as long as he’s still your friend, you’ll get through it.

“Is there a reason you’re trying to trigger my sense of deja vu, Partner?” The shaking in his voice doesn’t sound like fear.

That’s a good sign, you think. “So you remember this too?”

“Oh, very vividly. Especially once the hangover wore off.”

His sarcastic tone makes you smile. “So you know how this moment is supposed to end.”

Uncertainty lines the exhaustion in his eyes. “I never expected a repeat performance. Considering, you know, we were both dead for a while, and...at least part of it was my fault.”

You still think you’re cursed, Abe?

You think that scares me?

You never understood that maybe I’m cursed, too.

Your hand reaches forward and touches the edge of his suspenders, almost reverently. The article of clothing does strange, gymnast worthy things to your heart.

(No one has the right to make suspenders look this damn attractive.)

“Well, how about now?”

Abe doesn’t answer. He just stares at you with a longing so painful it stops the air in your throat.

Screw it.

You grab hold of his suspender strap and use it to pull him to you. Your foreheads bump together gently. A beat passes, time for one of you to bow out if that’s the case, and then you close the remaining space.

And it’s butterflies brushing their wings underneath your skin, it’s slow heat turning to a boil in your chest, this is all the gentleness neither of you never got to have, a lifetime of struggle and loss and pain, but the two of you have earned this brushing of lips, the tips of his fingers grazing your jaw, your hand slipping to the back of his neck—

You are all hard edges and bitterness, and so is Abe. You both have bled and snapped off pieces of yourselves for the sake of this awful, unfair world.

You’ve earned the right for a soft touch. You deserve to be treated like spun glass, just for this brief breath of time.

And Abe deserves to be treated like he’s magic.

Curse or no curse, he has magic in his touch that sparks through your veins like white hot electricity.

Seconds later, an eternity, a few heartbeats, maybe a million, and your lips shift to his cheek and down to his jaw.

He makes a sound like he’s in pain and you stop. Pull away. Clear your throat.

“Sorry, I…” You step back to give him space but he grips your upper arm and pulls you right back to him. Your hand lands on his chest.

You feel something wet and look down. Your eyes widen.

“No, it’s...I’m okay, I just…” He ducks his head. His other hand comes up to your neck, his thumb brushing gently against the steady thud of your pulse. “I’m trying to remind myself that I’m not dead. That this is really—”

“Um...Abe?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s, uh, there’s blood on your shirt?”

“What?”

Abe looks down and sees what you only just noticed: a blossoming scarlet stain spreading across his chest. Your hand lifts from the shirt stained with red and trembling.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He shakes his head. The lack of panicking over his bleeding chest is disquieting. “That...that happens, sometimes, when my heart gets going.”

“It—what? Wait, is that where you were shot?” The observation shocks you into action. You grab Abe’s wrist and drag him to the kitchen. “Jesus Christ, Abe! You might have said something!”

“In my defense,” he says as he watches you rifle through the drawers for rags, “I was a little distracted.”

Oh, as soon as you get him stitched back up and he stops bleeding all over the floor, you will punch him in the face.

And maybe kiss him again.

Barring that doing such a thing won’t make him bleed like a damn waterfall again.

--

Please reblog and comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged, please message me!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @ren-mon , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @skidspace , @peaceiplier , @wkm-detective-abe-squad , @veryobsessivefan , @lizard-in-a-skinsuit , @babymadz , @statictay

#wkm #who killed markiplier #kat writes #datective #abe the detective #y/n district attorney #yeah so this started off suuuuuper intimate and i didn't know how to kill the mood #then i remembered the post that raimeyl made all those months ago #and here we are now #no way to kill a mood like a gushing bullet wound

[mrshiddleston-uk]

Petrichor • Chapter 2

Emily clung to her mothers legs, sobbing heavily as the woman tried to prise her away, encouraged by the teacher,

‘Let’s find you someone really friendly to sit next to. I think I know just the person’

She lead her forwards towards a little boy sitting in the library section of the classroom, flicking happily through a picture version of The Jungle Book,

‘Thomas?’ Mrs Williams called, causing the boy to look up,

‘This is Emily. She’s feeling a bit scared and I wondered if you would look after her for me?’

She encouraged Emily forwards and she sat down next to the boy cautiously as he stared at her with a big grin, reaching out and taking her hand,

‘Hello I’m Thomas. Don’t be scared, school is going to be fun! I’ll look after you’

Emily spent a moment looking at Thomas, before reaching up and twirling one of his unruly blonde curls around her finger, ‘I like your hair’ she giggled. He shifted closer to her, sliding the book so it was half on her lap too,

‘I’m reading the Jungle Book. Do you like it?’

Emily nodded.

‘Me too! That means we can be friends. Best friends’ Thomas replied.

That was the first time Emily Grace Mayhew met Thomas William Hiddleston.

Rated M (18+) // Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC // Warnings: Smut, Angst, Character Death, Abortion

A/N: You can find the entire completed series on AO3. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Chapter 2 of 12

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wherever you go

Whatever you do

I will be right here waiting for you

Whatever it takes or how my heart breaks

I will be right here waiting for you

 ~

The best laid plans, and all that. Emily wished she’d listened when everyone told her she needed to apply herself more. But after that summer, things had just got worse and her concentration dwindled to pretty much nothing, her mind all consumed with thoughts of her best friend, as her head and her heart battled each other daily. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she knew she had fallen in love with Tom. She’d carried the weight of those feelings for 4 years now and when her lecturer called her and her mum in for a meeting and told her she would have to re take her last year of university, she couldn’t say she was surprised. Meanwhile, Tom was about to graduate and already looking for flats in London. He was leaving her behind. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his constant stream of girlfriends was almost too much for Emily to bear. Francesca hadn’t lasted but after her came Gemma, then Natalie, then Joanne…….and countless more that didn’t even last long enough for Emily to remember their name. She hated them all. At that point she forced herself try and stop getting worked up about it. The only person it was hurting was her. It wasn’t those poor girls fault and it wasn’t Tom’s fault, none of them realised they were doing anything wrong, they didn’t have a clue what was going on inside her head. Their friendship hadn’t changed…...or not for Tom anyway. They were still as close as ever, but now every time Tom hugged her she would hold on to him for that little bit longer, relishing the feeling of being close to him. She lived for his daily calls and texts……..she lived for him. That didn’t mean she hadn’t had boyfriends of her own, they just never lasted. No matter how hard she tried to give everything to them, they weren’t Tom. No one ever would be. How could she try and build a relationship with anyone else when she would never be able to love them with the same fierce devotion that she had for Tom?

 ~

Emily sat on Toms bed and watched as he bundled the last of his clothes into a bulging hold-all. She looked around at his bedroom, remembering all the times they’d shared here as children. From making camps out of blankets as 7 year olds, to watching films at midnight when they were meant to be asleep at 15. Back when things were easy. Back when she didn’t have these god damn feelings that threatened to tear her insides to shreds every single day. With a sign Tom turned to her and smiled sadly, ‘I think I’m done’

 Emily just looked at him, biting on her bottom lip harshly as she tried not to cry.

 ‘Oh Em, don’t get upset! It’s just like me being at boarding school or uni still! But I’ll be able to come home more now, and you can come and visit me too’ he took a step towards her and held out his hands, ‘come here’

 Emily took them and he pulled her up off the bed to her feet before wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. That was the last straw for her, and she let out a choked sob. Tom rubbed her back gently,

‘You know I have to do this Em. And it’s only for a year. Once you finish uni you can come down too, yeah?’

 ‘Yeah’ she mumbled into his shoulder, clinging to him and never wanting to let go.

 ‘Still my best friend?’ He asked

‘Always’ she whispered in reply.

~

 Losing Tom to London seemed to be just the kick up the arse that Emily needed. She threw herself into her uni work, doing her best to put Tom out of her mind, although that was easier said than done when he text her countless times a day to tell her the latest thing that had happened or send her a picture of a London landmark. It seemed he was loving life, and Emily was desperate to get down there with him. Finally a month after Tom had left, they’d arranged a weekend for Emily to go and visit. When she stepped off the tube at Marylebone, she scanned the crowds as she hauled her hold-all over her shoulder.

‘Em! Em!!!! OVER HERE!!’ Toms familiar voice bellowed from her left, causing not only her, but everyone else around her to turn around and look at the over excitable man child that was currently pushing through the stream of people all going in the opposite direction, glaring at him in annoyance. Emily laughed as Tom appeared infront of her and scooped her into a hug, lifting her feet of the floor,

 ‘Put me down you ridiculous idiot’ she giggled. Tom smiled at her and yanked the hold-all off her shoulder, sliding it over his own and taking her hand, ‘c’mon!’ 

Emily trotted among behind him as he pulled her through the crowds and onto another train. He placed her hold-all on the floor and draped his arm over her shoulder. She leant against him smiling to herself. God, she’d missed him so much.

‘I can’t wait to show you London’ Tom said quietly, ‘it’s great here Em, you’ll love it’

They got off the tube at Chalk Farm and walked the short distance to Toms flat. It was the top floor of an old converted Victorian house, and it was tiny. Tom lead her into the small living area, letting Emily look around while he opened the door into his bedroom and dropped her bag onto the bed.  

‘This is cute’ Emily commented

‘You mean small’ 

Emily shrugged, ‘it’s not that small. I like it’ 

Tom smiled and gestured back towards the bedroom, ‘Are you ok sharing the bed with me? If not I can sleep out here on the sofa’

 ‘Of course it’s fine! It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before’ Emily had known this would be the case when she came down to stay, and she’d been dreading it and looking forward to it all at the same time. She was desperate for any opportunity to get close to Tom, but not being able to touch him was going to be hell . She was on a constant rollercoaster of emotions but no matter how rough it got, she didn’t want to get off - she just tightened her safety belt and enjoyed the ride. She was in too deep to do anything else.

They settled themselves on the sofa and Tom ordered a takeaway. They ate in comfortable silence as they watched a film, Tom knowing exactly what to put on to make Emily smile. Lilo and Stitch had been her favourite film for as long as she could remember. Her memories of going to watch it at the cinema with Tom and their parents still as vivid as ever. Tom had insisted on getting the biggest box of popcorn the cinema sold, and him and Emily had eaten the whole lot, Anne and Diana incredulous at how they hadn’t felt sick. It was the best cinema trip Emily had ever been on.

Caught up in her memories, Emily glanced across at Tom. Sensing her looking at him, he turned to her,

‘You ok?’

She smiled and nodded, ‘I just missed you, that’s all’

Tom grinned at her and shuffled nearer to her on the sofa, reaching out and stretching his arm around her shoulder, ‘I missed you too. I’m glad you’re here Em’

Emily rested her head against his shoulder and leaned into him, ‘So am I’

~

Emily woke up before Tom the next morning. She’d forgotten how fidgety he was to sleep with. He hadn’t exactly kept her awake all night but she’d been aware several times of him stirring and moving around, and that combined with an unfamiliar bed and just the general close proximity of Tom to her had made for an all round disturbed nights sleep. But nothing had prepared her for what she saw when she rolled over, still half asleep. Tom was laying on his back, both arms stretched over his head and the duvet pooled low around his thighs. Emily had to shove her fist in her mouth to stop herself moaning as she took him in…….his slender chest with just a scattering of hair, the faint outline of his abs, the fine hair that trailed down from his belly button, disappearing under the tight white boxers that were sitting dangerously low on his hips. Holy mother of god, he was breathtaking. She needed to stop looking but she couldn’t. Suddenly Tom stirred and Emily panicked, throwing herself off the side of the bed and stumbling to her feet, grabbing the chest of drawers next to her as she regained her balance and turned around. Tom was still asleep, now on his side with his hands buried under the pillow. Emily backed quickly out the room and ducked into the bathroom, turning the taps on and splashing cold water on her face. She really needed to get a grip. Coffee…...that would work. She needed coffee. Taking a deep breath she opened the door and headed to the kitchen. As she filled the kettle and started to open random cupboards in search of a mug she heard noise behind her and turned to see Tom emerging from the bedroom, having thankfully put on a pair of tracksuit bottoms. 

‘Morning’ he mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep as he pulled out a chair and dropped himself into it, yawning as he pointed at the cupboard to Emily’s left, ‘mugs are in there, if that’s what you’re looking for’ 

‘Yeah, thanks’ Emily replied, opening the door and lifting two mugs off the shelf. 

‘Did you sleep ok?’ Tom asked as she busied herself spooning coffee into the mugs. She nodded in response before turning to him,  

‘You’re still a fidget though’ 

Tom laughed, ‘Sorry. I can sleep out here tonight’ 

Emily walked towards him with a mug in each hand and put them down on the table, pulling out the chair opposite and sitting on it, hugging her knees to her chest, ‘Don’t be silly, it’s fine’

They sat for a few minutes sipping their coffee, as Tom told her all the things he had planned for them that day. They were basically going on a sightseeing tour of the city. Emily loved how much thought and effort Tom had put into it, making sure she got to see all the landmarks of London. What she really wanted to tell him was that nothing he could show her today would ever be as incredible as him. She would have been quite happy to just stay in his flat all weekend and look at him - he was more beautiful than any building or cityscape. But instead they took turns to shower and get ready, before finally Tom was leading her through the busy streets of Camden. They browsed the market stalls, admired the street art, wandered along the locks, and stopped for a late breakfast at a small cafe that served milkshakes made from every breakfast cereal flavour imaginable. Next,  they caught a tube into the centre of London and visited Trafalgar Square and Nelsons column, before walking up to Leicester Square where they stopped to watch some of the street performers. As they continued on, Tom pointed to the Odeon Cinema,

‘That’s where all the film premieres in London take place. One day, that’ll be me Em. And when I make it, when I have my first big film premiere, and I’m standing on the red carpet in front of all those people, you’ll be standing next to me’

Emily glanced up at him, ‘You’ll probably have a famous actress or supermodel girlfriend that would be much better suited to something like that than me’

Tom stopped and shook his head as he looked at her, ‘Even if I have, it’ll still be you. How could I ever think about taking anyone but my best friend, my favourite person in the world , to my first film premiere? You’ve always been here for me, supporting me unconditionally in whatever I’ve done. I promise you Em, one day you’ll be on that red carpet next to me’

He started to walk again and casually draped his arm around her shoulder. Emily pinched his waist and looked at the floor as she smiled widely. Maybe she’d never get the declaration of love from this man that she was so desperate to hear, but she knew how much she meant to him in other ways, and that was the most she could realistically hope for.

They carried on their tour of the city, walking along Old Bond street, admiring the designer shop windows. As they walked past Tiffany’s, Emily paused as something caught her eye. She pressed and hand gently to the glass as she gazed at the simple white gold bracelet on display. 

‘That’s nice’ Tom commented 

‘It’s gorgeous’ Emily replied

‘I’ll buy you that when I’m famous too’ Tom jokes as they started to walk again, ‘you can wear it to the film premier’

~ 

After a visit to Buckingham Palace and Regents Park, they headed back to Toms flat to get changed and then walked back into Camden to grab some dinner, choosing an authentic Italian restaurant overlooking the locks where they ate too much food and drank several glasses of wine. When the waitress brought them the bill, Tom refused to split it with Emily and smiled smugly at her as he handed over his debit card while she stuck her tongue out at him in fake annoyance. Moving on and now both a little tipsy, they decided more drinks were in order and found a small bar where they ordered some elaborately named and over priced cocktails and settled themselves into a booth tucked away in a corner.

‘So do you like London?’ Tom asked eagerly

Emily took a sip of her cocktail and nodded, ‘I’ve had such good day…...thank you’ 

‘Still going move here with me then?

‘Of course’ she watched as Tom practically downed his drink, ‘you might wanna slow down a bit, don’t you think?’ 

Tom shrugged and stood up, ‘do you want another?’ 

Emily screwed her face up, ‘I’m fine thanks. I’m just going to pop to the ladies’ 

Tom nodded, flashed her a smile and disappeared towards the bar. Emily watched him go before getting up and following the signs to the toilet. She took care of business and washed her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair and opened her handbag, pulling out her lipstick and re applying it, pouting dramatically. As she exited the toilets she glanced to where her and Tom had been sitting to find him back from the bar, but there was someone with him. Emily stilled, watching the young blonde woman flirting outrageously with him as she sat next to him, her hand placed suggestively on his knee. Tom looked like he was trying to move away from her, glancing around uncomfortably. When his eyes met hers he smiled and waved her over, relief clear on his face. Taking a deep breath Emily started to walk again, and as she reached the booth Tom held out his hand to her, pulling her down next to him and putting his arm around her, looking back to the blonde woman,

‘This is my girlfriend. As you can see I prefer brunettes’

The woman scowled at him and stood up, storming back to her friends who were seated a few tables away. Emily raised her eyebrows at him. 

‘Sorry…...she wouldn’t take no for an answer’ Tom apologised, glancing back towards the blonde, ‘oh god, she’s still watching me’ he turned to Emily, 

‘Kiss me’ 

‘What???’ 

Tom reached up and cupped her cheek, ‘kiss me…...please’

Emily sighed and leant forwards, pressing her lips chastely against his, but as she tried to pull away Tom held her in place, tilting his head and pushing his tongue into her mouth. She squeaked in surprise but then her emotions took over and all rational thoughts went out her head. Tom was kissing her. She opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, sliding her hand up his thigh and stopping just short of his crotch, squeezing gently. She felt him take a sharp breath and suddenly he was pulling her onto his lap, 

‘That should do the trick’ he mumbled, wrapping his arm around her waist to hold her in place as he leant forward to pick his drink up from the table. Emily glanced round at the woman who was now paying them no attention, busy talking to her friends. Turning back to Tom, she took the drink out his hand and placed it carefully back on the table, 

‘She’s still watching’ she lied, knowing Tom couldn’t see as she was blocking his view. Fuelled by alcohol, she wound her hands around the back of his neck and leant in, licking into his mouth. He kissed her back, his hand sliding up to rest on her bum. Emily knew this wasn’t real, but in that moment she needed to pretend it was so she kissed him with everything she had. She kissed him the way she’d been dreaming about for the last four years…...she kissed him like she loved him. The only thing she was drunk on now was Tom as her tongue glided against his and her stomach flipped. Tom pulled back and looked up at her, breathing hard as he licked his lips, 

‘Let’s get out of here’ 

He practically shoved Emily off his lap as he stood abruptly. He took her hand and paused to pick up his drink and swallow it down in one, placing the empty glass back on the table before he tugged Emily through the bar and out onto the street. Keeping a tight grip on her hand he marched along the pavement, Emily barely keeping up with him. As they reached the end of the town Tom suddenly veered off down a side alley where he turned on Emily, pushing her up against the wall and crashing their lips back together, his hands on either side of her face and his body pressed flush against hers. She let out a breathy moan as she held his waist, keeping him close to her. There was no blonde woman around now, this kiss wasn’t for show. This was real. Emily didn’t know where it was going to lead but she knew exactly what she wanted to happen next. To make it clear to Tom, she dropped her hands to his bum, gripping it hard and pulling him impossibly closer to her. Out of nowhere a loud clap of thunder caused them both to jump, breaking apart. Large drops of rain started to fall, and Tom glanced up at the sky before looking back at Emily. He stepped back towards her and slid his hands around her waist, resting his forehead against hers, smiling,

‘I’m so drunk’ he giggled as the rain came harder. He took her hand and pulled her away from the wall as the heavens opened and the sound of the the rain blurred into a constant thrumming as it bounced off the pavements. Tom and Emily ran back up the hill towards his flat, hand in hand until Emily stumbled, 

‘Wait, I need to take my shoes off’ she gasped 

‘Em your feet will get soaked!’

Emily laughed as she looked at him, his hair stuck to his face and his drenched clothes plastered to his body,

‘Are you serious?’ She shouted over the noise of the rain, ‘I’m already soaked to the skin’

Tom turned round and backed towards her, ‘get on my back!’ He called over his shoulder. Emily hesitated before grabbing his shoulders and jumping on. Tom hooked his hands under her knees, hauling her further up his back and started to run again. Emily clung to him, both of them giggling uncontrollably as he staggered ungraciously the rest of the way to the flat, and whatever had happened between them minutes earlier was now gone, washed away in the storm. 

~

Tom woke up the next morning to a million tiny people banging on the inside of his skull with a million tiny hammers. How much had they drunk last night? He winced and opened his eyes slowly, turning his head to look at Emily who was curled in a ball next to him still fast asleep. He peeled the covers back slowly and quietly climbed out of bed, creeping across the room, grabbing his jogging bottoms off the chair as he went. Once out the bedroom he stepped into them and headed straight for the kitchen, searching in a drawer for some paracetamol. He filled a glass of water and swallowed them down, flicking the kettle on. Last night was hazy, very hazy. He sort of remembered a blonde woman asking for his number in a bar…….where had Emily been? The mere thought of her seemed to jog his memory a little as he remembered her sitting on his lap………….

Shit.  

Emily stirred and opened her eyes. The bed was empty next to her and she could hear Tom moving around in the kitchen. She stretched as her mind went back to the previous evening. Kissing….. lots of kissing. When they’d finally got home they were both absolutely drenched and completely exhausted so they’d just dried themselves off and fallen into bed, both asleep almost immediately. Last night was still hanging over her like the dark cloud that had dropped on them at the most inconvenient moment. What happened now? Deciding it was time to face the music, Emily swung her legs out of bed. She paused, resting her elbows on her knees and rubbing her temples. With a sigh she forced herself to stand up and walk out into the living room. She saw Tom straight away, sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He looked up as she approached,

‘Hey’

Emily smiled as she sat down opposite him,

‘Hey,’ she studied him, ‘you look like shit’

Tom smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, ‘how much did I drink last night?’

‘Quite a lot’ Emily replied, frowning. 

He nodded and looked down at the table, scratching at one of the wood grains nervously,

‘Em……..last night……’

He whole body tensed as she stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Finally he looked up at her, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s all my fault, I have a few drinks and I just get carried away. I should never have done it, not with you’

Emily swallowed down the lump in her throat and nodded quickly, ‘it’s ok’ 

Tom reached forward and took her hand, ‘it’s not ok. I crossed a line last night and it was totally unacceptable. I’m such an idiot. I mean, you’re my best friend’ he blew out a breath and looked at her, ‘we had such a good day and I ruined it. Forgive me?’ 

Emily was desperate to tell him that he hadn’t ruined anything, that she’d wanted it, but instead she forced a smile, ignoring the feeling of her heart shattering into tiny pieces right there in front of him, 

‘Of course’

Tom smiled at her, squeezing her hand, ‘I’ll make us some coffee’

Only hours later when Emily was back home in Oxford, safe in the confines of her bedroom, did she allow herself to cry until she had no tears left.

#petrichor #tom hiddleston/ofc #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston

[marvelous-narnian]

Playing House (Peter Parker x Nurse!Reader)

Summary: Peter, now into his twenties and a full-time Avenger, comes to his nurse girlfriend for help with a strange injury from a supervillain he can’t tell Tony Stark about. 

Note: This is my first fic ever and I’m pretty excited about it. I rarely have motivation to write, so being able to actually finish this one felt really good. I would love to hear what you think about it and any constructive criticism you have is much appreciated. Also, the title references the TV show ‘House’, where they solve weird medical cases, it’s a play on words. 

Words: 2,757

Warnings: There’s some blood and gore, and I didn’t hold back on the description. 

You sigh as you shut the door to your apartment, relieved that your twelve-hour shift at the hospital was over. You hung up your coat and turned to the fridge for something to eat. There was some leftover soup from last night that you took out and started to reheat. Over the buzzing of the microwave, you heard a soft bang from the direction of your bedroom. You cautiously opened the door at the end of the hall to see a red-and-blue figure perched on the fire escape outside your window.

Spiderman was hunched over, leaning against the window and clutching his side. You weren’t surprised to see him injured, he almost always was after patrolling, but you were surprised he came here. Peter hadn’t come to you for a patch job since he moved into the Avengers compound after high school, since they had their own medical staff to deal with injuries. But he was here now, looking just like he had countless times as teens after he had found out you wanted to be a nurse and could help him when he got hurt.

“Peter!” You ran to the window and opened it for him then helped him into the apartment. Still clutching his side, he took off the mask with his other hand to reveal a face contorted with pain.

“Sorry, I know it’s late, but I didn’t know where else to go.” He replied in a tired voice. You lead him to the bathroom and took out your first aid kit.

“It’s alright, you know I’m always here for you, Pete. Your timing is impeccable by the way, I just got home.”  He pressed the spider-shaped button on his suit and let it drop to the floor so that you could examine the wound.

You were surprised by what you saw, not that the injury was grotesque, you had seen much worse, but that it didn’t match with Peter’s pained face. It was a deep laceration about three inches wide covered in wet and dried blood. It was serious, sure, but nothing Peter hadn’t suffered about a thousand times during his years as Spiderman. You touched the edge of the gash to get a better look but stopped when Peter hissed through his teeth.

“What in the world did this?”

“Supervillain” he grunted. “Looked kinda like he was made of vines, but he had these claws the size of daggers. That’s what got me, his claws.”

Just then, a trickle of green liquid started to ooze from the center of the slash. You opened your mouth in disbelief and Peter winced and gripped the counter even harder. “What the-“

“Argh! That’s what making it burn so bad! Can you make it stop?” Peter asked, his eyes filled with panic.

“Darn it Peter, I’m not a doctor! I have no idea why your body is secreting green acid, why did you come here instead of the Avengers compound?” As you spoke, more stuff came pouring out of the wound. You found a towel and started wiping it away, but it wasn’t getting better. In fact, Peter’s flesh has started to sizzle and burn. You could tell Peter was trying not to scream in pain.

“I can’t, y/n, Mr. Stark told me not to try and fight this guy, but I went out and did it anyways. If I had the med staff fix me, he’d know I went against his orders. I can’t let him down.”

“Peter, you idiot, when are you going to realize that Stark does this stuff to protect you! You could have died!” You scolded him, the fear caught in your throat causing your voice to be sharp.

“I’ll start following his orders when he stops treating me like a kid! I’m an Avenger now, I’m not a child anymore, and I can handle myself.” Peter leaned against the bathroom mirror and crinkled up his eyes. His face was beat red with pain, anger, and embarrassment.

You exhaled sharply and threw the green-soaked towel on the counter. “Well, you were wrong this time and now you’re in a pickle because you can’t go to a hospital without them asking too many questions. I don’t know how to help you.”

“Can't you just call one of your doctor friends and have them look at me over skype or something?”

You tried to hide your smirk, amused at how quickly Peter was about to get his comeuppance. “You’re in luck. I haven’t worked at this job long, so I haven’t made many friends, particularly with doctors yet, but I do have the personal phone number of one doctor.” You walked over to your desk and rummaged through the papers piled up there until you found one particular slip of paper. You held it up to Peter, “Dr. Jake Allen.” His hopeful face fell.

“Why do you even still have that creep’s number? Didn’t you tell him you had a boyfriend?”

Dr. Allen was one of the resident doctors at the hospital, not too much older than you, who had asked you out a few weeks ago. He was nice, and professional when he needed to be, but had a huge ego that made him pretty unlikeable off-the-clock. He had approached you in the break room after your shifts and given you the slip of paper with his number on it, coupled with a cheesy pickup line. You had told him you were in a committed relationship that you weren’t interested in ruining and that you’d see him tomorrow. Ever since then Dr. Allen had peppered you with questions about Peter, probably so that he could convince you that he was a better alternative. This was hard for you, since your boyfriend was a full time Avenger living at a headquarters which you had to keep a secret. You told Allen that Peter was in between jobs and was living upstate with some friends, which of course painted a pathetic picture. Ever since then you’d been trying to avoid him, until now.

You sighed and set the slip on the counter so you could dial the number. “It wasn’t like I was going to call him or anything, I just forgot to throw it away. And yes, I did tell him I had a boyfriend.”

He tried to protest but then another drip of green goo oozed out of the wound, causing him to writhe in pain more and effectively shut him up. The phone started to ring and then was quickly picked up by Dr. Allen on the other line. You put the call on speakerphone.

“Hey, y/n, did you finally decide to dump the deadbeat?” Allen asked, referencing your horrible cover story of Peter being unemployed. Your eyebrows shot up at the remark and you looked over, amused, at Peter, whose face was contorted in confusion.

“Um, no, actually, and Peter isn’t a deadbeat. He’s just in between jobs.” You cringe at your own lie, meeting Peter’s look that said, ‘oh come on!’. “Actually, I was calling to see if I could ask a favor for him, he’s hurt and I don’t know what to do. I can’t take him to the hospital because, well, never mind. I just need you to help me figure out how to help him. Can I FaceTime you?”

A barrage of questions came from the other end of the phone. “What happened to him? Why can’t you take him to the hospital? Does he not have health insurance? Why don’t you know what to do?”

You just hung up and called him on FaceTime, ignoring the questions. The face of Jake Allen appeared on the screen, his blond hair perfectly gelled and his blue dress shirt wrinkled and rolled up at the sleeves from the long shift at the hospital. You imagined the situation as if he were there in real life and you were introducing him to an actual patient’s case at the ER. You flipped the camera around to show a sickly pale and irritated Peter in his boxers, sitting on the counter of your bathroom. You zoomed up on his torso to show Allen the bizarre injury. “The wound is a fairly deep three-inch laceration on his left lumbar region, which I should just be able to stitch up, except it’s oozing this weird green slime and it’s burning him.”

“Wow,” was all Dr. Allen said, which didn’t surprise you. It made sense that he would be confused, both at the medical anomaly but also wondering how it happened. “Hey Peter, what’s your workout routine? I’d love to have a set of abs like that.”

You guffawed. “That was the most inappropriate thing I could have ever imagined you saying. Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor?”

“Relax, y/n, I’m just joking around. Seriously, though, this is strange. It almost looks like stomach acid. Behaves like it too, with the burning and everything, but the wound is nowhere near the stomach. How did you say this happened again?”

“The patient would not like to disclose that information.” Peter stated through gritted teeth.

“Okay, suit yourself, the point is-” Dr. Allen stopped abruptly, “Oh my God is that the Spiderman suit?”

Peter's head shot up in alarm and you stammered out a response. “Uh, no...those are pajamas.”

Dr. Allen narrower his eyes and his gaze flitted from the suit to Peter to back to the suit. “Oh my God.” He finally said. “Peter, are- are you Spiderman?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, scrunched up his face, then just shut his mouth again. He sighed then responded “...yeah, I am. But you can't tell anyone! It could put y/n in danger, or even yourself!”

Jake's face lit up like a little kid's with the mention of Spiderman's secret identity. “Oh, I wouldn't even think of it, your secret’s safe with me! I have to tell you, you're my favorite Avenger, I, ugh, have your action figure.” He let out an embarrassed chuckle.

An awkward smile broke out on Peter's face for a moment before another ooze of green came out of his wound. His smile turned into a grimace.

“Alright, Dr. Allen, what do we do?” You asked, bringing everyone back to the matter at hand.

“Um, let's see. I think we can presume that the slime is acidic, which is the reason it's hurting him, and since we can't make it stop, we need to neutralize the acid with a base.”

“Oh! That's brilliant! I've got some baking soda in the kitchen!” You handed your phone to Peter and bolted out of the bathroom. You put some water into a cup of baking soda and mixed it into a white paste.

When you came back Dr. Allen was peppering Peter with questions about crime fighting and the Avengers. Peter looked annoyed. You knew it was because of how hard he worked at limiting the number of people who knew his secret, and how many sacrifices he'd had to make to keep it. Having some random creepy doctor on that small list probably wasn't something he was super happy about. That, and there was acid coming out of an open wound on his abdomen.

“Okay, babe, I need you to lay down on the floor so I can spread this on the wound.”

He nodded weakly and stumbled onto the bathroom floor. By now he was looking clammy, covered with a sheen of sweat. You dabbed at the acid one last time and cringed at the second and third degree burns forming around the laceration. You scooped a spoonful of baking soda paste out of the cup and spread it over the wound. The mixture bubbled a bit, but nothing much happened. You wondered if it worked until looking up at Peter's face, which now looked peaceful and relieved.

He let out a long sigh. “Oh, yeah, that's better.” You smiled and kept spreading more paste on.

“Is Spiderman alright?” You heard Dr. Allen ask from your phone, abandoned on the counter. You got up and picked it up.

“Yeah, the baking soda seems to have worked, thanks to you. I owe you big time. You realize though the responsibility you have to keeping this secret, right?”

He nodded profusely. “Oh yeah! I would never out Spiderman's secret identity! That would be like treason against the city!”

“Thank you. I'll see you on Monday.” You hung up the video chat and set you phone back down, then slumped down on the floor next to Peter. The both of you stared at the white bathroom ceiling. “Who knew a resident doctor was like your number one fan?” You chuckled.

He turned his head and looked you in the eyes. “I'm sorry,” he said, “for making you go through this. And for getting mad. You shouldn't have to deal with this weird supervillain crap just because I'm sneaking around.”

You reached over and took his hand in yours. “I'm a nurse, it's what I do. Or at least, minus the supervillian part. You know I'm always here for you. I'm in your corner, no matter what you're fighting. And I'm sorry I flipped out earlier. That's like rule number one of being a superhero's girlfriend: you don't freak out when he almost gets killed. It's terrifying knowing you're out there risking your life everyday, but it's also your job.”

His brow furrowed. “You shouldn't have to go through that though, not knowing whether or not I'll still be standing at the end of the day. I can't stop being Spiderman, but you shouldn't have to be the superhero’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but I signed up for it! I knew you were Spiderman before we started dating, and I knew what dating you would entail. It doesn't matter anyways because I would make the same choice now that I did back then. Getting to be your girlfriend outweighs any trouble or pain that being Spiderman's girlfriend brings.”

He smiled at you warmly and stared at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes and you fell in love all over again. He brought your hand up to his face and kissed the back of it tenderly. “I could never have imagined having a girlfriend as amazing as you. I love you so much, y/n.”

“ I love you too, Pete.”

The two of you laid there for moment, content on the bathroom floor. Then you broke out into a bout of giggles.

“Do you remember when I found out you were Spiderman?”

He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Do you mean when I forgot you didn't already know and started telling you about the little kid I saved earlier that day?” You nodded through laughter. “I was trying so hard to impress you with that story that I forgot I hadn't told you yet.”

“You were so confused when I freaked out.”

He chuckled. “How about junior year when you told me you wanted to be a nurse? You were so excited to tell me, and I just figured that meant I could come to you for free stitches when I got hurt.”

You cringed at the memory. “Ugh, I had no training at all, but I still agreed to sew you up. I had no idea what I was doing, but I couldn't tell you that! So I just prayed nothing horrible would happen. That practice actually helped me a lot in nursing school, though.”

“I just loved getting to stare at you while you worked. Your face got all scrunched up in concentration. It was so cute.”

“Um, I think I got the better end of the deal there. I got to stare at your abs while I worked.” You smirked at him.

“You know, I did have a six pack before I was bitten by the spider, right?”

You laughed. “No, you didn't!”

“How would you know?”

“We were both at Tracy's pool party freshman year. You were like the skinniest kid there. Honestly, it was a miracle the whole school didn't suspect something when you showed up to school one day completely ripped.”

“I thought I was so smooth wearing baggy clothes to cover up the change.”

You guys continued to reminisce about the old days until Peter's wound stopped secreting the acid. Then he was finally able to wash it all off in the shower and you dressed his wound. You found him some clothes to wear and then the two of you dossed off in each other's arms, safe and happy.

Tagged People: @cinnamon-roll-parker @thetranslucentwallaby @spiderneds @starsholland @livluvspiderboy

#spiderman #spiderman: hoco #spiderman: far from home #marvel #infinity war #Avengers #peter parker #fic #x reader #nurse!reader

[minimin1993]

B/L 5 & S/M 5

Warning: Smooch. Wound.

“Steven Grant Rogers! James Buchanan Barnes! I swear you 2 are the most idiotic boys I have met. And trust me I have meet a lot. Now sit your butt down and let me see those wounds.” Linda said storming into the boys shared room with the first aid kit. They had just came back from scouting in Luxembourg which had turned into an ambush.

“How do you always know what we get hurt?” Steve said removing suit revealing 1 bullet wounds on his biceps and 2 in his torso.

“Because I can smell it on you that’s why.” Linda said irritated taking out the bullets in Steve before cleaning it up. “You need to stop taking hits, just because you can heal fast doesn’t make you immortal.” 

“Well if I didn’t jump in front of Juniper, he would have had been down for weeks. Better me than him. Owww jeez Linda, press any harder.” Steve wince feeling Linda press hard on his bandages. 

“I swear its like I became both of yours personal nurse” Lina said shaking her head before washing her hands walking over to Bucky who is sitting there patiently pressing on his side.

“You make it sound so bad doll.” Bucky said removing his shirt revealing a deep gash near his ribs making Linda gasp. 

“Oh don’t get me started on you James, now lay down.” She said cleaning his wound with antiseptic seeing how his abs contract every time she touches his bare skin.

“You know I couldn’t just stand there watching you get slashed” Bucky said grabbing her hand making her look at him.

“I don’t need saving, I heal instantly Bucky.” She spat yanking her hand out of his grasp. 

“Also if I get hurt, I have a pretty dame taking care of me.” Bucky said smirking at her making Steve chuckle watching the pair lame excuses for flirting the past 2 month since they went on missions.

“Yeah who is she? I would like to have a talk with her because your dumbass keeps getting hurt.” Linda said slowly stitching up the wound. 

“Why? Are you jealous?”    “Pft. In your dreams.” she said bandaging him up giving him a pill and a glass of water. “Now take this.” 

“You are a recurring appearance in my dreams actually.” He said winking at her making her scoff before leaving the room. 

“I think you made her mad again.” Steve said looking at the door. 

“Fine, I will go talk to her.” Bucky said putting on a jacket following her out the door to find her sitting behind their safe house near the lake. 

  “Linda look I am sorry.” Bucky said sitting next to her. “Come on doll, look at me please.” 

“Don’t you doll me.” She muttered still refusing to look at him.

“Why do you inspect me to do? Stand there and watch you get hurt, Linda he was about to stab you.” Bucky pled

“Yes, that's exactly what you should have done.” Linda said turning to look at him deep in his eyes. 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” Linda said louder getting frustrated with this same conversation every time. 

“Because I can’t let the girl I like get hurt.” Bucky said softly. “I fell for you the moment you introduced yourself, you’re all I can think about. Then these past months working together and watching you fight. I couldn’t stop the feeling growing.” 

“Bucky…”  

“No its fine, forget it. But just know that I am not going to stand there and watch you get hurt though.” he said standing up walking away only to have Linda grab his wrist.

“You never let me finish…” She said standing up in front of him. 

“I was about to say. Took you long enough James.” Linda said grabbing the lapel of his jacket to pull him into a kiss shockinging him but within seconds he grabbed her waist holding her in place. The caress of his soft lips brushing against her own made her addicted to the taste that uniquely Bucky. They both stood there lips still locked completely unaware of the audience behind them. 

  “I always heard he was pretty good with picking up dames, but it took him months to make a move on Linda.” Jim whispered to the group. 

“Pay up Dernier and Dugan, my girl pulled the first kiss.” Steve said holding out his hand waiting for his winnings. 

 “CUT” Joe said stopping the pair from kissing.

 “Dam we kiss twice and still no date. I feel so used Sebastian, you have my first and second kiss now.” Min whispered playfully making him chuckle. 

“It was good though right, lives up to first kiss reputation?” Sebastian said walking next to her off the set. 

“It was alright..” Min shrugged scrunching up her face a little. 

“Wow, I am honestly a little offended. I thought I was a pretty good kisser.” 

“I couldn’t know. Only kissed 1 guy in my 19 years of life.” She said before jumping onto Chris back. “Chris, Sebastian said he was a pretty good kisser but I wouldn’t know. You should kiss him to see if its true.” 

“No way not until you put at least 2 beers in me.” He said.

“Don’t tempt me because you know I will.” 

“Soooo princess how was your first kiss?” Chris asked smugly but quietly causing the pair to burst out laughing. “What?” 

“Chris get with the program that wasn’t her first kiss.” Sebastian said proudly.

“Wait what?” Chris said stopping his tracks. “Princess who’s the bastard that took your first kiss?” 

“The bastard is walking right next to you.” Min whispered into Chris ears.

“Wait… Now I am confused.” 

Min and Sebastian didn’t say anything as they share a knowing look until she started to bust out singing 3OH!3-My First Kiss (Ft. Kesha) making the boys laugh.  

 I said no more sailors and no more soldiers

With your name in a heart tattooed up on the shoulders

Your kiss is like whiskey, it gets me drunk

And I wake up in the morning with the taste of your tongue

  “Linda wake up, it's Thanksgiving doll and we still have to cook.” Bucky said nudging her on her side of the bed. It's been almost a year since Bucky and Linda gotten together. And even in the middle of the war the pair is inseparable. Currently the team are on a break, and they decided to throw a feast for the day.

“Grrr…. I want to sleep, 5 more minutes baby.” Linda said pulling the blanket  over her face. 

“No we have a lot to cook today. If you’re not going to get up I am forced to use reinforcement.” Buck said lifting the blanket up and climbing on top of Linda making her giggle. “Ohh it looks like you are planning on it.” Bucky said tickling her naked sides making her giggle even more. 

“No stop, stop ok you win.” Linda squirm under him trying to stop him but he grabs her hands and pinning it above her head. 

“I can’t get enough of your giggles love.” Bucky said tickling her more. This goes on for a few minutes before he stops and stares at her in her eyes seeing her smile brightly up at him. He lowers his face down and captures Lindas lips in his which she gladly returns. Through the heated moment he trails his kisses down to her jaw, neck and nuzzle kisses down the valley of her chest making her gasp. “I love you so much Linda. I hope you will never forget that.” He whispers into her skin kissing further down. 

“I love you too James…..”

“Bucky, Linda I hope you 2 are about to come out and not playing hanky panky.” Steve said knocking on the other side of the door with a smirk on his face stopping the pair from going any further. 

“Dam punks a cockblock.” Bucy said shaking his head before the pair bust out laughing. 

“Come in baby, lets go before he actually comes through the door like last time.” Linda said pulling Bucky back up. 

“But what am I going to do with this.” Bucky said lowering his lower half down to her making her gasp as his boxer cover bulge presses onto her. 

“Well I guess we just have to make it a quickie then.” Linda said pulling the blanket over both their heads. 

After the pair was finished they both got ready and headed downstairs seeing a knowing smirk on everyone's face. 

“I swear since you two got together you are like rabbits.” Juniper said before turning back to his pie. 

“Still don’t know what my room has to be next to them.” Falsworth said shaking his head. 

“Because you lost the bet now you have to pay the price.” Steve said with a smirk on his face knowing how loud his 2 best friend can be.

“Hey can you not talk about us when I am about to make your Thanksgiving dinner.” Linda said with her hands on her waist. 

“Yes mam” They said in unison. 

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian x reader #winter solider x you #winter soldier #originl character #captain america #infinity war #marvel #chris evans #original character #the first avenger #steve rogers

[mindfulwrath]

Silver, Part V

Let’s play the “how much worse can we make it” game! This one’s a little shorter, but in my defense, it covers a lot of ground.

Words: 3,239 Warnings: Alcohol (ab)use, implied suicide

Part I Part IV

Jekyll woke up when Poole set a tray on his nightstand. He could smell scones and Earl Gray. He had a blistering headache and felt like his tongue was wearing a sock. Everything was sore, like he'd been run over by a carriage. Judging by the fuzziness of his memories, he might actually have been run over by a carriage. That might explain why his hand was a red mass of pain wrapped in bandages.

"What time is it?" Jekyll managed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Eight o'clock, sir," Poole said.

Jekyll yawned, sitting up, and stretched. Poole bustled off in the direction of the window.

"That's not so—"

Poole flung open the curtains, and brilliant daylight flooded the room. Jekyll stopped mid-stretch, his eyes snapping open, a lance striking down his spine and locking it ramrod-straight.

"I'm sorry, Poole," Jekyll said, his voice gone glassy. "Could you repeat that?"

"It's eight in the morning, sir," Poole said. "By my watch, you've slept a bit over sixteen hours."

"And nobody thought to wake me?" Jekyll said.

Poole must have caught the edge in his voice, because he stayed over by the window.

"Everyone else was sleeping, sir," he said. "And Dr. Lanyon recommended you be allowed to wake on your own."

"I'm sure he did," Jekyll said. He got up out of bed. He was sore all over, his head pounding, but at least he was dressed, even if it was in yesterday's wrinkled clothes. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to get to the Society."

"Oh, come now, Dr. Jekyll," Poole said. "And let all this breakfast go to waste?"

"Poole," Jekyll said, clinging to his composure by his fingernails. "In less than ten days, I have to present an exhibition so stunningly brilliant that it will make the idiot masses forget that a quarter of London was burned to the ground. The building in which the vast majority of the items to be exhibited were housed has, likewise, been burned to the ground. I am responsible for a large number of people who are now homeless and, additionally, are on the bad side of every policeman and citizen within a ten mile radius. It is my sole responsibility, solely mine, to fix all of this mess within the next ten days, or the option of ever fixing it will vanish into thin air, and every ounce of work I have put into this Society and all its members along with it! If you will excuse me, Mr. Poole, I really must be going!"

"Yes, sir," Poole said, plastering himself to the wall. "Very good, sir."

Jekyll slipped his shoes on, hurriedly fixed his hair, and grabbed a scone and the cup of tea off the tray Poole had brought in.

"And thank you for the wake-up call," he said to Poole. "Perhaps a touch earlier next time."

"Yes, sir," Poole said again.

Jekyll hurried out. He didn't even taste the scone, barely noticed the tea burning his tongue. He only paused to grab his coat and hat and drop off the empty teacup with the maid. He headed straight for the Society, the brisk morning air whipping up his circulation. Much as he would have liked to be back in bed, there was nothing for it. He could sleep again when the exhibition was over.

The coat still smelled like Jasper.

When he got to the Society about fifteen minutes later, he'd managed to get his mind back into something resembling its proper order. The main priority would be figuring out what assets they still had left, what hadn't been destroyed, what was intact and what could be salvaged. Keeping everyone's spirits up was paramount—if the lodgers gave up, everything else was pointless. Finding what had become of Dr. Frankenstein and the creature was next, because having them on board for the exhibition would be ideal—

Because Frankenstein was ill and needed help, she came to you, they came to you for help—

Jekyll shook himself. He was getting sidetracked. He stopped for a moment in front of the Society, rubbing his hands against the cold. Someone had hung a large panel of canvas over the hole in the front, which was flapping gently in the breeze. All the fires finally seemed to have gone out. He hurried inside, chewing over his internal To-Do list. It was looking a little scrambled, fallen out of the order he had so meticulously put it in, and he was already having trouble remembering the lower items on the list.

The foyer was, to his relief, bustling with activity. Several of the lodgers seemed to have taken it upon themselves to clean up the mess, and had made significant headway with it in the time he'd been gone. It was with even greater relief that he noted that Jasper was not among them. However, shortly after he entered, a different figure detached itself from the crowd and beelined for him.

"Ah, Rachel, good morning," Jekyll said. "I was wondering if you'd—"

She stormed right up to him and slapped him. Jekyll saw stars. His ears rang. Blinking and stunned, he worked his jaw, concerned it might be dislocated.

"I quit," Rachel hissed. "Consider that my notice of resignation, Dr. Jekyll."

"Rachel—"

She shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, still discombobulated from the blow to the head.

"I don't care," she snapped. "I don't care about your excuses, or your reasons, or your stupid apologies! Take your silver tongue and choke on it!"

She stormed off. Jekyll stood very still, shaking with tension. He could feel the palm print stinging on his face. It would doubtless be visible for quite some time. His fists clenched on empty air. How dare she do this to him in public, how dare she make a spectacle of him, he ought to—

Throttle her! Hyde snarled, frothing with Jekyll's own rage.

Jekyll took a slow, deep breath. He straightened up. He fixed his shirt and his hair, settled his composure back in place. The anger would not leave him, burning like a hot coal in his chest, quickening his blood and reddening his thoughts.

"Er, sooooooo. . . ."

Jekyll came back to himself. Mr. Archer had sidled up to him, eyes darting. Several other people were staring. Jekyll cranked out his best smile and a little eye-roll.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I believe Miss Pidgley is a tad upset with me. I'm sure it'll blow over, given a bit of time."

"Rrrrrright," said Archer. "What was all that about, then?"

"Personal matters," Jekyll said. Blood was seeping through the bandages on his hand, the stitches pulling. "It's hardly important at the moment, hah hah."

"Hah hah," Archer agreed nervously. His eyes flicked to Jekyll's hand. Jekyll slipped the offending appendage behind his back, under his coat, and rested it in the crook of his other elbow.

"Was there something you needed, Mr. Archer?" he inquired.

"Me? No, nothing at all," said Archer, raising his hands in surrender. "Here to help, that's all."

"Very kind of you," said Jekyll. "In that case, I'm off to attempt some sort of comprehensive inventory. If you could find someone capable of consoling Miss Pidgley, I'd appreciate it."

"Will do," said Archer, tossing him a casual salute.

"Thank you," said Jekyll. "And if you see Mr. Kaylock, would you please let him know I'd like to speak with him?"

"Uh," said Archer, "sure."

Jekyll nodded to him and started off in the nearest convenient direction. He could feel the lodgers staring at him as he went.

The rest of the day was filled with so much work that everything else faded to a background chatter. He forgot to eat, of course, which wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't stood up too fast in Dr. Maijabi's (thankfully untouched) laboratory and blacked out for a moment, after which he was scolded into the kitchen and scowled at mightily until he had actually eaten something. Rankled, he promptly excused himself to go check on his own laboratory, although he knew very well that it was perfectly fine. The lingering gazes of the lodgers were making him itch.

Once the heavy doors had closed behind him, he breathed easily again. The exhaustion leapt upon his back like a tiger, as though it had been waiting for him to let his guard down. He leaned his head back against the doors, sighing, eyes closed.

Now this seems familiar, Hyde chuckled.

"Oh, do go away," Jekyll said, rolling his eyes. "Don't you ever get tired of spouting the same old drivel every single day?"

So fucking tired, Hyde said. Why don't you just give up, and spare us both the pain?

"Abandoning all subtlety, are we?" Jekyll asked. He pushed himself off the door and went to his desk. There was plenty of paperwork that needed his attention. He could take care of it while he waited for the lodgers' gossiping to die down.

Maybe you are, said Hyde. I resent the implication I've ever been subtle.

"All right, then," Jekyll said, lowering himself into his chair. "Allow me to be blunt: go away."

You're never going to get all this shit sorted out before the exhibition, Hyde sneered. Run yourself into the ground if you like, you're already screwed.

"I wonder whose fault that is," Jekyll said. Without really noticing, he plucked up the half-empty bottle of wine from his desk and poured out a glass of it.

Yours, Hyde said. It's always your fault, isn't it? Everything you touch winds up ruined, it's no wonder your life's a shambles. You brought it on yourself and you know it. But by all means, keep putting your grubby little hands all over everything. See how much you can take down with you.

Jekyll sipped his wine, eyes on his paperwork.

Worked its magic on Rachel, Hyde said, lounging in the cheval glass. She hit you so hard I felt it. Not that you didn't deserve it, because you did. I told you it'd happen. And now she's out of a job, too, isn't she. Nicely done, Mr. Jesus.

Jekyll had just opened his mouth to retort when there was a knock at the door. He looked up, scowling. Hyde went up in a puff of smoke and was gone.

"Yes?" he said.

The door opened and, once again, Jasper poked his head in. Jekyll's heart skipped a beat, his stomach turned a flip.

"Um," said Jasper. "Miss Flowers said you wanted to see me."

"Yes, yes, come in, close the door," said Jekyll, averting his eyes. Jasper did as instructed, but stayed near the door, fidgeting.

"What was it . . . about?" he asked. His voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat.

Jekyll sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tempted to finish his wine, but that might not have looked particularly good for him. Instead he gestured to the chair by the lab bench.

"Please sit, Jasper," he said.

Heel, boy, Hyde sniggered. Now speak!

"All right," Jasper said uncertainly.

Good boy! Have a biscuit.

He went to the chair and sat like he expected it to bite him. Jekyll spent just a moment too long collecting his thoughts.

"What happened to your hand?" Jasper asked.

"Nothing," Jekyll said. "Had a minor glassware accident, it's nothing to be concerned about."

"All right," Jasper said dubiously.

Jekyll sighed. He leaned his elbows on his desk and stared at his hands.

"I wanted to say . . . how sorry I am," he said. "About what happened. It was . . . immensely unprofessional, entirely inappropriate, and . . . incredibly unfair. And I am deeply, deeply sorry, Jasper. I don't know what came over me. All I can say is that it won't happen again. That, I promise."

"Oh," said Jasper, and Jekyll did not miss the twinge of disappointment in his voice. It made him want to eat his entire stupid apology, and possibly his hat. "It's only—I thought Mr. Hyde would be more upset than I ever was."

"Why should Hyde give one single damn what I—"

Jekyll broke off mid-snap, reigning himself in. He took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten.

"Mr. Hyde," he said stiffly, "has no bearing on the matter whatsoever."

"He doesn't?" Jasper said, baffled. "It's only—I thought—"

"You thought what everyone thinks, and nonetheless it is still wrong," Jekyll interrupted.

Jasper shrank, apologetic, and Jekyll clenched his injured hand. That pain was easier to bear.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I am sorry, Jasper. I've—it's only that I've heard that rumor one too many times. It does rather get under one's skin, hah hah. You may rest assured that this particular matter—and all of my personal affairs—do not concern him in the least."

"Oh," Jasper said again, sounding considerably more upbeat. "Then—sorry, then what's the problem?"

"The problem," Jekyll began, and had to stop. The words were too hard to say, too final, too foul. He glanced at Jasper, at the naïve and fragile hope in his face, and wished himself dead on the spot.

"Yeah?" Jasper prompted.

"The problem, Jasper, is that I am in a position of far too much power over you for anything—any unprofessional associations to ever be . . . sane," he said, although his voice shook. "I never, ever want to put you in a position where you would feel uncomfortable saying no to me. I refuse to even allow the possibility. Your safety is of paramount importance to me, and this—this isn't safe. This can never be safe, so long as you are a lodger at the Society and a rogue scientist under my provision. There's simply too much leverage on my side. I'm sorry, Jasper. I'm sorry this even had to be brought up."

"But—you'd never do anything like that," Jasper said. "Use the Society and all of your—everything to manipulate me. You'd never use any of that leverage, I know you wouldn't."

"Jasper—" Jekyll began, distraught. He put a hand over his face, shaking, ruinous. It had to be said, even if it killed him. Hyde could have done it. Hyde could have had it done with five minutes ago. "You have known me all of four days, Mr. Kaylock. I am not the saint you imagine me to be."

Jasper was very quiet. There was no air in the room. Jekyll's stomach was full of maggots. He braced himself, for anger, for betrayal, for the sting of a sharp and well-deserved rebuke.

"Oh," said Jasper, and it was worse than anything Jekyll could have imagined.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Jasper. It should never have come to this."

Jasper stood up.

"It's all right," he said, and he sounded nothing so much as disappointed. "Thanks for talking with me about it, anyway. It's good to know where things stand. It's good to have the air cleared out."

Jekyll could only nod. He had to keep his eyes closed. He couldn't look. He couldn't bear to look.

"I'll . . . see you round, Dr. Jekyll," Jasper said, and Jekyll's heart snapped in two.

"I suppose you will, Mr. Kaylock," he managed.

Jasper walked away. Jekyll clenched his fist until it bled and prayed the earth would swallow him whole.

Hyde at least gave him a few minutes before he started niggling.

Those are called "feelings," he said helpfully, while Jekyll nursed his second glass of wine. I know it's been an awfully long time since you've had any, so if you need any help with them—

"No," Jekyll said flatly.

Oh, fine, go on wrecking everything, then, Hyde said, smug. It's getting funny at this point.

Jekyll sipped his wine. The pain in his hand was starting to fade, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"It was one mistake," he said, "and it's fixed now."

Fixed? Hah! You've fucked it up worse than ever! If you want it fixed, now, I can fix it.

"No you can't," he said.

There's no inconvenient power dynamic between me and the wolflet, Hyde purred. You can have it all~

"In four more days, you can state your case," Jekyll said, although he was aching. "Until then, it will do you no good."

Give it up, doctor, Hyde said. You've already lost, and you know it. You were always too weak to make it, and now you've got the proof to back it up. Isn't that what your ~science~ is all about? Well congratulations, dear doctor, we've empirically proved you're a failure!

Jekyll sat for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his hands shaking. He opened the carved wooden box on his desk and drew out a key. He felt Hyde go ice cold inside him.

What are you doing? he said.

Deliberately, Jekyll turned and unlocked the top drawer of his cabinet. Hyde swarmed across the glass, frenzied and turbulent.

Jekyll, what are you doing? he demanded.

Eyes down, he rifled through the contents until he found the right phial. He tapped out a measure of the white salt into his wine. His hands were steady. His face was stone. There was no heartbeat in his chest.

Stop, Hyde said, pressing his hands to the inside of the nearest cabinet's glass. Stop this right now. You stubborn, spiteful ass! What are you trying to accomplish? What could you possibly hope to gain?!

Like a clockwork soldier, Jekyll carried on. He stirred and stirred until the spoon stopped crunching at the bottom of the glass, until the salt was all dissolved. He raised the glass to his lips and took a single bitter sip.

Henry, for God's sake! Hyde screamed.

Finally, Jekyll paused. The wine tingled on his tongue. He met Hyde's eyes in the glass, took in his desperation, his abject terror—basked in it, reveled in it. He raised an eyebrow.

Please, said Hyde.

Jekyll spat the mouthful of poisoned wine back into the glass, then took the whole ensemble to the chemical waste bin and poured it out.

"Don't test me, Hyde," he said. His voice did not so much as quaver. "You will always, always lose."

You're a madman, Hyde spat. You're a lunatic!

"If I am, then so are you," Jekyll said, unconcerned. He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. His tongue was still tingling. He rinsed his mouth out cursorily. "But you don't care much about that, do you. You care very little about anything but yourself. Fortunately, I still have the power to take even that from you."

Much good it'll do you when you're dead.

"I shall be laughing in hell," Jekyll said.

Look at yourself, Jekyll, Hyde sneered. Is this what you wanted? Was this where your ~grand designs~ were meant to carry you? You are everything they accuse you of, everything you built your stupid Society to dismantle. Hypocrite. Liar.

"No," Jekyll said, as though instructing a child, "you are a hypocrite and a liar. I am a gentleman. And if you will stop annoying me, perhaps I will allow you a night out."

Hah, you're cracking, Hyde said, without venom, or indeed much feeling at all.

"Don't push your luck, Edward," Jekyll said sweetly.

Hyde did not say anything else.

#tgs #the glass scientists #fanfic #silver

[multifandom-hoes]

Just Had to Tell the Truth

Member: V // BTS

Main Plot: They have to get the money before their family can suffer.

Short Summary: All he had to do was confess to her a little sooner, about everything, and the world would have been a happier place.

A/N: Please do imagine me summoning my list from hell and finally striking this piece of art off because yaaaassss! 

P.S. Let’s all thank @kawaii-hedgehog for the plot idea~!

Words: 2.6k

/ SeokJin // YoonGi // HoSeok // NamJoon // JiMin // TaeHyung // JeongGuk /

It was late at night when her best and childhood friend had returned home. What was worse was the fact that he came back all bruised and bloodied, already sporting a blue eye from someone’s fist. His lip had blood all over, though already drying and the chips falling off.

Her eyes widened and she flew over to stand by his side as he nearly stumbled to the floor, catching him mid-fall. “Tae, what on earth---?!” her mind could not process anything as her eyes had been flooding with tears that were threatening to fall and never stop. “What the hell happened to you?!” she yelled in hysterics, laying the poor man down on the couch after dragging him to the living room.

In response to her tears the man cringed, trying to settle himself higher to be able to reach up to her cheeks and wipe the salty liquid off. “Don’t cry, now, Honey. It’s all right, just a bit of blood and bruises. I’ll be fine.” He chuckled, but she saw his hand going over his stomach, clutching at the other side.

“Don’t call me that, you idiot!” she yelled, sobbing in fright and pushing him down, hastily lifting his shirt up to reveal what was the problem with his stomach. And problem there was; a gunshot wound about the thickness of one finger right through the right side of his stomach. “Oh my…” she breathed, starting to hyperventilate as her eyes widened even more, the tears stopping in even bigger panic. “What did you do?” she asked with no emotion in her voice, feeling faint.

“Ey, Honey, if you wanted to see my chocolate abs so bad you could’ve just asked, not pushed me down and gone and done it so forcefully.” TaeHyung teased her more, huffing in pain under his breath. “You know what, in order to forgive you, I could use some help stitching this up, you know?”

“Kim TaeHyung, I am going to ask you this only once more before I call the cops.” She said sternly, getting up and observing her bloodied hands. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

She decided then- it was moments like these that she missed her, and his, parents the most. TaeHyung gone for a day, sometimes even more. Coming back with unidentified bags, only later in the day for her to discover that there was a robbery somewhere in the vicinity. And now he comes home bloodied and shot. How good would it have been if the people who killed their parents would have died instead?

“I’ll tell you it all if you help me.” He tried to deal with her, but she did not budge and instead her hands formed into small fists that soon turned white from the force she exerted into them.

“You tell me what is happening right now and I’m calling the ambulance.”

He chuckled nervously then, shaking his head lightly as he spoke, “Ah, ambulance. I don’t think you should, Honey. Instead, pass me the med-kit from my room, I’ll just stitch myself up and we’ll speak, yeah?”

Her resolve shook then. She had no other choice. Looking at his complex expression, she knew that he was probably in a lot more trouble than she could comprehend, and so she gave up, running to his room and turning everything upside down just to find the damned thing.

As she came back and saw him already sitting up and shirtless, ready to start his procedure, she did a double take, regretting her naivety and nearly asking again whether he was sure that him all on his own would be a better choice than an experienced doctor. But then she identified the small scars of different kind, some were long, running from his shoulder down to his elbow, some seemed deeper than others, and the others were the same gunshot inflicted wounds that was now gaping in his stomach.

He had too much to explain.

In the end, he simply dismissed her, passing out as soon as he made the final stitch. She left him on the couch as his dead weight was too much for her to handle, but she did clean up the living room and hall after his bloody escapade.

And that was it towards their conversation. He simply forgot all about it. In fact, he had the audacity to avoid her for a couple of days, or a week, actually. He never even showed up in front of her face, but she knew he was coming back from the extra dishes she had to do left by him exclusively.

And she moved on. She never forgot, but definitely moved on. If he didn’t want to bring it up, fine! So be it! Look at her caring away. No, she decided, it was time to change. She knew she babied him around way too much, and look where that got her to now- a bloody mess, that’s where.

It was because of her care towards him that she had no free time for herself. She was hitting her twenties, and still no experience with a boy. Heck, not even her first kiss was taken. Well, theoretically, not. But factually, it was, by TaeHyung, as well. It was an accident, though, and she saw him as a brother, so she didn’t count that time. Besides, it was only their lips touching, anyway.

Through her aching heart she still dolled herself up, starting to go out with her friends more, relax more, dropping her motherly nature completely and instead giving into the life of a youth who’s seen too much in her life. She finally had the chance to enjoy herself, and she was loving it.

And so it happened; amidst the loud music and sweaty bodies she stumbled into a man- literally- who then ordered her a drink and asked for her phone number. And they met again, and she learned his name- Park BoGum it was.

A month went by, TaeHyung decided to reappear in front of her face and simply apologize as to what happened, being his same old happy and flirty yapp that he always was. She wasn’t the same, however, and TaeHyung noticed that. Even so, he did not comment, and let her do whatever she wanted to. In a way, he was happy for her- his long-time crush finally got to do what her heart had desired her to do.

The thing was, though, he couldn’t grasp what was the factor behind her becoming that way. He blamed himself, of course, and he was right in doing so. However, he could also not bring himself to confess what was happening to his life, either. After what happened to their parents, the gruesome murder scene, and then him joining a gang as he grew up enough to make own decisions. He could not confess the fact that he grew up to be the kind of person that killed their parents. He simply could not. She would run away from him, then, and that was what he wanted the least.

It was better to lie his heart out than be all alone and with an aching heart.

Another month had passed, and to addition of finally forgiving TaeHyung, to an extent, BoGum had confessed his feelings to her. Without dwelling too much, she accepted, over-joyed as she came to talk to TaeHyung and share her happiness together with him.

“Guess what happened, Tae?!” she laughed with pure mirth in her eyes, jumping around the mentioned male in ecstasy.

He laughed along with her, spinning in circles while trying to catch up with her tempo. “What?”

“Well…” she slowed down and felt her cheeks heating up only at the thought of the romantic moment. “I got confessed to today.” She whirled around, completely missing TaeHyung’s shattered and lost expression.

“What..?”

“And I said yes!” she turned back to face him and clapped her hands in joy. “Can you believe that?! Cause I can’t! I accidentally met him in a club and we hit it off so nicely it felt like destiny!” her dreamy voice sang.

“Oh…” his voice stuttered as he fell back and into the couch. “I’m happy… For you?” he faked a big grin, the corners twitching from the heartbreak that he felt. He truly was an idiot. After so many failed attempts to confess, in the end someone got to her first. Idiot. “What’s his name? Do I know him?”

“Well, I doubt you know him, but heck if I’d know. It’s not as if you tell me anything about you, anyway.” She pouted in offense, crossing her hands over her chest for just a second before returning back to her happiness. Though she could not see, her statement pierced right through his chest, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Oh! And his name is Park BoGum! He’s a real sweetheart, I tell you! He’s such a gentleman, too!”

As his friend proceeded to tell him of how the mentioned man confessed, TaeHyun sat in silent shock, his eyes the size of saucers as the name smacked him right across the face.

“Park Bo… Gum?” he asked unconsciously, his hands fisting the leather of the couch underneath him.

She hummed in agreement, “Yeah. Do you know him?”

“Do I?” he asked back. He certainly hoped that he didn’t know him, for if he did, his Honey could certainly not date him. In fact, she should stay away as far as possible from that man. Park BoGum, the one TaeHyung knew, anyway, was a no-good man. A gangster low-life. Just like TaeHyung himself. “I don’t think so…” he fixed himself after seeing her confused self.

“I see…” well anyway, he’s taking me out tomorrow, so I’m not going to be home after about eight in the evening. Just a warning.” She smiled in his direction, storming down the hall and locking herself into her room, seconds later he could hear music blasting through her speakers, and some thumping noises as she was probably jumping and dancing from joy.

“Come on, TeHyung, there’re loads of Park BoGum’s in Korea. It must be just a coincidence.”

It was not a coincidence. His Honey was gone. She never returned from her date, and TaeHyung was near tears as he received a message with a sum of money and a photo attached; she looked beat, her face swollen and bruised.

It was his fault. He needed the money. He had it. He was sure he had it. And after lifting the floorboards from his room, he was greeted by a welcoming smell of money, and the sight made his heart calmer as he saw the bags upon bags of theft and his previous near-convictions.

He had asked for an address then, quickly sending it off to Park JiMin, his friend-in-crime, another gang member, and hurrying his ass over to the address he was provided with to drop the money off.

It was his fault. He blamed himself over and over. It was his fault. God damn him and his idiocy. It should’ve been obvious even to a fool, still. Park BoGum was an enemy to their gang. The scene from two months ago flashed before TaeHyung’s eyes. It was specifically this man that shot him in the stomach and cause a conflict between him and his Honey.

“That bastard!” TaeHyung yelled as he ran with all he had towards the plaza, empty as it was midnight.

“Now that’s not a very nice way to call an old friend.” The familiar smooth and youthful voice of BoGum chuckled from the shadows, slowly dragging himself and the girl in his hands into the moonlight. “Missed me?” he mocked the younger, bending the girl in his arms at such an angle TaeHyung thought her back would snap.

“Stop it!” he yelled in rage, taking a step closer to the perpetrator and stopping himself just before anything crueller could happen. “Don’t hurt her…” he whispered in the end, his pupils shaking as the bag of money fell by his feet.

“It’s funny to see you in that state, Tae.” The man laughed, tossing the girl to her knees and only holding her by her hair. “It was funny to be with her, as well. She’s quite resilient. So quiet, too. It’s no surprise you love her.”

“Let her go, BoGum.” TaeHyung begged, falling to his own feet as he saw her crying face, twisted in pain. “Please, I’m begging you, let her go! I’ve got the money so just take it and let her go..! Please!” his yells got louder as the elder twisted and shook her head more and more, having fun in his own twisted way.

“Not till I get a reassurance that your men won’t shoot me as soon as I let her go.” He smiled calmly, picking at his nails as he spoke.

“It’s not as if you don’t have your own men all over the place!”

“Watch that mouth of yours, TaeHyung. It’s me who has her life in my hands. So, how’s it gonna be? You going to call them off?”

Without thinking twice, TaeHyung dialed JiMin and called the whole team off, his eyes sinking with tears as he heard her wailing in pain.

“There, happy?! Now leave!”

“Tch. You’re no fun.” BoGum commented off-handedly, making her stand up and pushing her away from himself all at the same time as TaeHyung kicked the bag of money in the direction from where she was stumbling. “And just so you know, Tae…” the man began in a casual tone, “I might have let you off easy, these two past times, but the next shot I’m going to fire is going to be not through you, but through her. You got that?”

TaeHyung’s head fell up and down as tears of happiness and relief flowed down his face, his hands opening for her to fall into. Everything was going to be fine now.

A loud crackling noise resounded throughout the plaza, and she fell to the ground as a pained cry elicited from her mouth, her hands clutching her ear as even more cries of torment were emitted from her.

“You fucking bastard!” TaeHyung yelled, running towards her slumped form and prying her fingers away from the gunshot wound. Though not much, a part of her ear was missing and it was bleeding profusely. “You promised me to let her off fine!”

“I promised you to give her back. Be happy that she’s alive. Let this parting gift serve… As a reminder not to mess around. I hope you got the memo, Tae, and I’ll see you around.” With a frilly wave of his hand and wriggle of his fingers, the man stepped back into the shadows, and TaeHyung was left to tend to his Honey, crying and wailing from pain.

As he later found out, all that she had suffered from were some punches to the gut and slaps to the face, additionally the shot to the tip of her ear, which was already healing.

She was informed about TaeHyung’s activities by BoGum and some of his henchmen, but still decided to stick around her childhood friend.

To clear up the misunderstanding completely, he also decided to spill the biggest burden on his heart, and was completely rejected. But it did not matter. She didn’t leave and didn’t make things awkward between them. His heart wasn’t even aching, for as long as she stayed by his side for longer.

Nothing mattered to him.

#bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts series #bts requests #kpop requests #request #kpop #bts reaction #bts scenario #bts mafia!au #mafia!au #kpop mafia!au #v #bts v #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts taehyung #park bogum #kactor #kactor park bogum #bogum