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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

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Let Me Love You | 3 - B. Barnes

Character: college!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: On a mysterious, rainy night, Bucky witnesses a distressing encounter involving his crush.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , -

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. What are your thoughts? Please leave a comment; I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

You and Bucky sprinted away from Lloyd, hearts pounding in sync with the rhythm of your hurried steps, the adrenaline coursing through your veins dulling the ache of exhaustion.

Pausing to catch your breath, Bucky turned to you, concern etched on his face as he asked, "Are you okay?" Your response was worn as you admitted, "No, I'm not okay. I'm exhausted. I just want to go home and hide under my blanket."

Ever the caring friend, Bucky offered to drive you back to your apartment, a gesture that elicited a heartfelt "Thank you, Bucky" from your lips.

Upon arriving at your apartment, after Bucky had kindly dropped you off, the sound of a knock on your door sent a shiver down your spine.

'Knock,Knock,'

Fear gripped you, your mind racing with thoughts of Lloyd's relentless pursuit. However, to your immense relief, Bucky stood on the other side of the door.

Returning with a thoughtful gesture, he handed you something, saying, "For you. Good food could make you feel better." Before you could utter a word of gratitude, he swiftly turned and disappeared, leaving you standing there with a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

You carefully examined what was inside the plastic, finding a comforting sight—a steaming bowl of chicken soup. Gratitude washed over you as you realized how much you needed this warmth to soothe your empty stomach.

Recalling past instances, you couldn't help but contrast Bucky's thoughtful gesture with Lloyd's indifference; he never once checked on you when you were sick. Shaking your head, you pushed those memories aside, recognizing that they belonged to a time that was now behind you.

After luxuriating in a revitalizing shower to refresh yourself, you set about warming up the soup, eager to savor its nourishing goodness.

As you took the first sip, you felt the dizziness that had plagued you begin to dissipate, replaced by a comforting sense of relief. You made a mental note to express your gratitude to Bucky again the next time you crossed paths with him.

Just as you settled down to enjoy your meal, the shrill ring of your phone pierced the air, signaling an incoming call from your mother.

'Ring'

Setting down the soup spoon, you take a moment to sip the warm water, gathering yourself before answering the incoming call. With a deep breath, you bring the phone to your ear and utter a tentative, "Hello?"

On the other end, your mother's voice, Cecilia, sounds immediately concerned, "Don't tell me it's true you broke up with Lloyd?"

You let out a weary sigh, not wanting this breakup to escalate further, especially given your mother's fondness for Lloyd. "Yes, it's true."

Cecilia's tone turns to disapprove, "How? And Why? Don't let him get away, he's our golden ticket to get out from this town."

Your headache, which had just subsided, returns with a vengeance at her words. "Mom, he cheated on me."

Cecilia brushes off your concerns, "So? It's normal for a man with a bright future like him to have many women chasing him. You should've turned a blind eye. I heard from Lloyd's mother that a coach from the NFL league is recruiting him."

You exhale heavily, frustration bubbling up inside you. "I've worked tirelessly and studied hard to maintain my scholarship. I don't have time to watch whatever Lloyd does behind my back."

Cecilia's tone takes on a hint of resentment, "Oh, I see. Just because you became a St. Louis student, you think you're better?"

"That's not what I meant," you interject, feeling the conversation spiraling out of control. "You know what? I don't have time for this. Goodbye, Mom."

With that, you end the call and power off your phone, feeling drained. Glancing at the now unappetizing soup, you realize you just want to retreat into the solace of sleep.

The next day, with no classes scheduled, you requested a morning shift at work, preferring to avoid staying at your apartment to prevent any unexpected visits from Lloyd.

Today, you find yourself assuming the role of kitchen manager, a position you've earned through over a year of dedicated work, earning the trust of your manager. With the usual kitchen manager on leave due to health reasons, you've been tasked with overseeing operations for the day.

As you busy yourself assisting the cashier, your attention is drawn to the entrance by the familiar sight of Bucky and his two friends strolling in. Steve's grumbling about hunger prompts Bucky to suggest a visit to WHAM Burger, their usual haunt. Bucky insists on the visit rather than opting for delivery, eager for the chance to see you.

Welcoming them warmly, you greet them with a smile. "Welcome to WHAM Burger. What would you like to order?"

Observing your tired demeanor, Bucky admires your resilience and spirit. "Three cheeseburgers, three orders of fries, and three Cokes, please."

"Alright," you reply, masking your fatigue with determination. "You guys can take a seat, and I'll bring it over to your table."

As they settle in at their table, Bucky notices you approaching with their meals. However, his attention is caught by the unexpected addition of 12 chicken nuggets on the tray. "Y/N, we didn't order these," he points out.

You wink playfully at him, a gesture of gratitude. "My treat. Thank you for your help yesterday, Bucky."

Bucky can feel his cheeks flushing as Sam, seated beside him, notices and flicks his ear.

"Ouch," Bucky exclaims, rubbing his ear sheepishly.

Your laughter rings out at Bucky's reaction, adding a lightness to the atmosphere.

The light atmosphere in the restaurant swiftly turned dark as Lloyd, accompanied by Nicky and the rest of the football team, entered the establishment. A smirk adorned Nicky's face, her presence feeling like a taunt as she appeared to flaunt her newfound proximity to Lloyd.

Lloyd's casual remark did little to ease the tension as he addressed you, "Don't mind us, we just came here for a quick breakfast."

With a flourish, Nicky produced her black credit card, offering to foot the bill, "My treat." The football team erupted into cheers at the prospect.

Lloyd, with a smile playing on his lips, added, "Great, and we could use Y/N's employee discount."

Nicky's gaze shifted to you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation "Really?"

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn't believe the audacity of the situation. "That discount only applies to me," you retorted firmly. Working here, you've always utilized the employee discount, which Lloyd had benefited from in the past.

But to expect it for a party of 24 people? That was pushing it. You knew that allowing such a large discount would likely result in repercussions from your manager, perhaps even costing you your job.

You felt the weight of 24 pairs of eyes bearing down on you, and under their collective gaze, you couldn't help but feel small. Even the manager's expectant look added to the pressure.

Then, a comforting hand gently grasped your arm, and you turned to see Bucky standing beside you. His reassuring nod gave you a sense of calm amidst the chaos, "It's gonna be alright."

"Huh?" you uttered in confusion.

As Lloyd crossed his arms, his disapproval evident, he glanced between you and Bucky with a dismissive "Tsk," unable to comprehend your choice.

However, before you could respond, the manager, Thesa, intervened. With a professional smile, she addressed the football team, acknowledging their presence with gratitude.

"Thank you for coming to WHAM Burger, our football champions. It's an honor to have you here. As a token of our appreciation, today's order will be on us."

The unexpected gesture elicited cheers from everyone, except Nicky, whose opportunity to embarrass you had been thwarted.

Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you couldn't help but feel fortunate for the turn of events, even if you weren't entirely sure what had transpired.

Thesa's call snapped your attention, and you nodded in response. "Sure," you agreed before casting a quick glance at Bucky. "I'm needed in the kitchen. See you guys at the uni." With that, you hurriedly made your way to the kitchen, leaving the dining area behind.

As you scurried off, Bucky watched your retreating figure, a sense of concern etched on his features. However, his attention was soon diverted when he felt a gaze burning into him. Turning, he found himself locking eyes with Lloyd, who radiated hostility.

Beside him, Steve noticed the tension and issued a warning. "You better watch out, punk."

Bucky simply nodded in acknowledgment. "I know," he replied, his tone resolute.

Sam, ever observant, chimed in with a question. "Did you help Y/N just now?"

Before Bucky could respond, Steve jumped in. "Of course, he did. He can't let his crush get bullied like that."

The word 'bullied' lingered in Bucky's mind, igniting a protective instinct within him. He vowed silently to ensure you never experienced such treatment, especially not within his domain.

Indeed, while only a few people on campus knew, within WHAM Burger, everyone was aware that Bucky Barnes was the son of the owner of this famous food chain restaurant.

Yet, despite the recognition that came with his lineage, Bucky remained grounded and humble, striving to earn his place through hard work and dedication rather than relying solely on his family name.

And now, upon discovering that his number one girl is being underestimated like this, Bucky feels compelled to protect her.

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Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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merrybloomwrites · 21 days

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You Can Start a Family (Extra: First Earthquake)

Summary: Y/N experiences an earthquake for the first time. She and Harry have a bizarre serendipitous moment.

AN: I felt an earthquake for the first time yesterday and it inspired me to finally write this silly story that's been in my mind for nearly a year.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Fan Reactions

Holiday Blues

Mitchryy Reunion

Getting High

Word Count: 1.1K

CW: earthquake, injury, blood, vomit

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When you moved to Los Angeles to live full time with Harry, Mitch, and Sarah, you had a million questions. One thing you were almost embarrassed to ask about was earthquakes. Luckily, none of them laughed about your concern. They’d all experienced a few themselves. While most were small, they can each remember at least once or twice that they’d been genuinely worried during a fairly large quake.

So, they listened to your worries, told you what to expect, and shared what they’ve been told to do in order to stay safe.

A few months in, there’s a mild earthquake. The doors rattle, the mirrors and art on the wall shake, but no damage is done, and it only lasts a few seconds. You report to your friends back home that you finally experienced one.

But now is the first time you truly get shaken around. Harry, Mitch, and Sarah are all in the basement studio working together on new music. You’re upstairs in your little home office answering some emails.

You’re sitting at your desk in the corner of the room when everything starts to rattle. It’s small at first, but quickly you know this is much bigger than last time. Immediately you think of what you’ve been told to do in this situation.

The number one piece of advice you remember is to get under a desk or table. Your glass desk, however, doesn’t seem like the best choice.

There’s a sturdy coffee table in the middle of the room and you start to make your way over to it, stumbling due to the floor shaking beneath you. Suddenly, something slams into the back of your head, but adrenaline keeps you moving forward. You finally dive under the table and ride out the end of the earthquake.

Moments after the shaking subsides, you hear three sets of footsteps running up the stairs. Mitch bursts into the room first, Sarah and Harry right behind him.

“Love, are you okay?” Sarah asks as she helps you out from under the table.

“Yea, I just think something hit my head,” you reply and glance around the room. On the floor is a large decorative vase that normally stands in a recessed shelf on the wall. You point to it and say, “That. I’m fairly certain that hit the back of my head.”

“Let me see,” Harry says, his hand going to your hair. You hiss in pain, and he pulls back. “Shit,” he quietly breathes out, and you all look at him. His fingertips are red and wet. Blood. Shit is right. You’re definitely bleeding.

“How do you feel?” Sarah asks.

The adrenaline is wearing off, and that, mixed with seeing physical evidence that you’re injured, has the pain finally setting in.

“My head’s starting to hurt,” you reply. “And I feel a little bit dizzy.”

“You need to go to the hospital,” Mitch says. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

Harry helps you stay steady all the way out to the car. You assure everyone you’re fine, it’s just a scratch and a headache, but the three of them don’t listen. They rush out of the house, stopping only to grab shoes and a towel to hold over the wound. Mitch drives, Sarah is in the passenger seat, and Harry is in the back next to you, keeping pressure on the cut.

On the drive over you start to feel nauseous. It’s manageable at first, but steadily gets worse. There’s nothing in the car to be sick into, and you ask Mitch to pull over. You guys are literally on the freeway, and you can tell Mitch isn’t comfortable with stopping there, but then he sees the panic on your face and does as you’ve asked. He finds a safe spot and pulls onto the shoulder.

The second the car is in park you open your door and lean out, throwing up on the side of the road. It’s not a fun feeling, but you do feel a bit better once you’re done. You get back in the car and roll the windows down, hoping fresh air will help.

Just before driving off, you look out the window, and something you see just ahead has you laughing.

“What’s happening right now, why are you laughing?” Sarah asks. You look at the concerned faces of your girlfriend and boyfriends and say, “Please look at where we are right now,” while you continue to laugh.

You can tell when they all see it. Because they join in laughing. Just ahead is an iconic sign stating, “Harry Styles threw up here”.

“What are the fucking odds of that?” Mitch says in disbelief.

“Someday, someone’s going to ask us how me and Harry knew we were right for each other,” you say. “And I am absolutely going to tell this story. Because obviously we’re soul mates if we’ve both randomly thrown up on the exact same stretch of LA freeway.”

“Damn straight we are,” he says with a laugh. “But your head is still bleeding a bit so let’s get moving again.”

Mitch and Sarah immediately shift back into worried mode along with Harry, and you hold back a giggle at how protective they always are over you. Even if you feel they’re sometimes a bit too much, truthfully you love how well they take care of you.

Sarah goes into the hospital with you, hoping you’ll stay more under the radar than if Harry was inside. It’s pretty crazy in the emergency department, the earthquake causing a good number of minor injuries, but they move as efficiently as possible.

Sarah holds your hand as they use glue and your own hair to close the small laceration on your head. You’re fascinated to learn that there’s a technique to close head wounds using a patient’s own hair as sutures. But if the squeamish look on Sarah’s face is anything to go by, she doesn’t share this thought. Luckily you don’t have a concussion, and the dizziness and nausea were just from losing blood.

You’re relieved to finally get back home. It’s unsurprising that Harry, Sarah, and Mitch all dote on you for the remainder of the day.

Nearly a year and a half later another earthquake hits. This time all four of you are in the dining room, and you barely have a moment to process what’s happening before arms wrap around you and pull you under the table. Mitch holds you tight, Harry doing the same to Sarah next to you, and you make it out of this one with no injuries.

A couple weeks after that you do a podcast with Harry. Sure enough, the woman hosting asks about when you two knew you were meant to be. Harry sees your smirk and begins to laugh before you even start the story of your first earthquake experience.

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AN: Thanks for reading! Hope the science about earthquakes and hair apposition technique is right lol

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz@fictionalmensblog@buckybarnessimpp

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you

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anonymous-dentist · 8 months

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Something from Royalty AU? Or something about from Richas’ other dads’ perspective in BD. Like, a day in the life of Tazercraft or whatever the heck Forever does instead of getting a job *coughflirtingwithvariousrichmencough*

Set between chapters 9 and 10 of Breaking Dawn.

It's Friday night, which means it's time to go digging again.

Ugh.

"I don't see why we can't just get Cell to get us someone," Pac grumps. He slumps in his seat with his arms crossed, the seatbelt digging into his neck uncomfortably. "That's gotta be easier than digging someone up once a week."

Mike just kind of shrugs in response. He's driving, so Pac respects his decision not to start gesturing around like a crazy person like he normally does when they have this kind of argument.

"What, do you want to break his therapy?" Mike asks. He shakes his head. "It's easier just to get somebody on our own."

"I'm just saying that we have our own personal serial killer and we aren't even using him."

"You're way too casual saying that. Show some respect."

"Says the guy about to experiment on a dead body."

Mike, wisely, shuts up.

Content, Pac snuggles into his seat and watches the trees fly by outside. In a week, he and Mike and Forever and... well, just the three of them now, he supposes, will be out there. It's exciting, but, man, he's starting to get sick of it.

Their usual graveyard has been compromised by that freaky weird bear-looking guy setting up its ice cream truck across the street (which has to be bad for customers, by the way), so now they have to drive all the way across the island just to dig up a corpse, which is so annoying.

By the time they make it to their grave of choice, the moon is high in the sky, and it's making Pac's skin itchy. He can feel the full moon creeping up on him, fun!

Pac, of course, is doing most of the digging. Mike's more of a scientist than a graverobber, and Pac's always happy to get a workout in.

Mike is on a nearby bench scrolling through his notes on his tablet.

"He should have the adrenaline levels we need..." he muses.

Pac hits the coffin with his shovel. Bingo.

He clambers out of the grave and waves Mike over for an inspection. Mike comes, and he looks down at the body as Pac lifts the coffin's lid with expert precision.

"This isn't him," Mike eventually says.

Pac lets the coffin fall shut. "What?"

"Wrong grave. This guy died of natural causes."

Pac groans. They don't want that. They need someone who died young and healthy for their, like, health juices or whatever.

(He's an engineer, he doesn't really get the biology bits. That's Mike's job.)

"Alright," Pac sighs. He reaches a hand out of the grave, and Mike takes it and pulls him up. "Find the right guy, I'm gonna fill this in."

Man, who knew finding the secret of life would be this much hard work? It almost makes Pac wish they stuck with finding a cure to lycanthropy, this is just too much.

#asks!#monster au fic #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 1 year

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100 Follower Special!

Thank you sooooo much for 100 followers! 🥰🥰 (technically 101 now, but semantics, semantics) I know that's a relatively small number, but I've been here for about 3 months, and I'm still happy anyway. Love you guys so much! 🩵🩵

TW: minor violence, bruises mention

Villain knows this. They've spent the past few weeks studying every detail of Hero's base meticulously. This was why Supervillain had chosen them for this mission. Because they didn't get distracted easily and they kept their full focus on their task.

Sneaking inside admittedly wasn't easy. Villain had spent hours racking their brain for answers as they typed away on their keyboard, trying to hack into the system. And after many sleepless nights and one too many large mugs of coffee, they'd finally gotten through Hero's security.

The positions of every door, every hidden door's placement, every secret passageway, and even where all the cameras were (they'd managed to disable them) were all etched into their memory.

They almost glide around with such ease, they might as well have owned the place. But their outwardly calm and collected demeanour was a somewhat fragile façade. Hero may have kept up a friendly persona and thrown quite a bit of banter their way, but they were dangerous in their own right, with deadly control over their power. The scattered bruises lining the villain's body are a testament to that.

They weren't sure they'd like to imagine what Hero would do if they caught them sneaking around in their own house.

But they're Villain, for God's sake. They'd fought and won against people much worse than Hero. Yet they'd never been even half this nervous.

Steeling themselves, they take a deep breath as they try to push all the negative thoughts out of their head. They place their ear to the door, listening for any noises, and the action brings a comfortable sense of familiarity to them from the number of times they'd done it. Hearing no sound, their hands work as swift as machinery, taking the lockpick out of their suit's pocket and working on the lock.

They finally manage to get it open, the door leading into their nemesis's living room. What kind of psychopath locks their living room's door? But the criminal didn't find that a surprise. Carefully lifting the dark green plush rug off the floor, they manage to loosen the fake floorboard underneath, leading to the trapdoor. Another detail they'd discovered spying on Hero through their computer.

Lifting the door, Villain wills the air in the room to return the floorboard and the carpet back to their place as the door shuts. They smirk to themselves at how smoothly their power works as they carefully make their way down the long staircase.

When they finally reach the end of the staircase, they are almost giddy with excitement. One that you could never read off their somber face. The same rush of blood and adrenaline pulsing through them as their first heist.

Walking carefully around Hero's base and resisting the temptation to explore the sleek, well-equipped place, they quickly find exactly what they were here for. The flash drive in the shiny glass case, more precious to Villain than any treasure. It may have looked so easy to get a hold of, but simplicity was impossible with Hero. There was a sick, twisted puzzle only a psychopath or a bitter STEM major could dream up that they had to solve first.

Their heartbeat quickly grows erratic, and their hands shake as they go through the bloody puzzle. Their eyes light up with glee as the glass case unlocks, and they reach inside, fingers almost closing around their prize.

Almost.

"Well done," a silky voice croons. It sounds proud rather than annoyed.

The crime-fighter stands there, leaning against the wall, arms folded over their chest with an amused glint in their eyes. They were dressed in a dark, satin robe thrown carelessly over their figure and tied at the waist, not even bothering with a mask. They regard Villain the same way one regards a child who'd been caught sneaking yet another cookie.

They chuckle lightly. "Ya know, if you wanted an invitation, you could've just asked. I believe I gave you my number last time we fought, hm?"

"Hilarious," they counter, whipping around and making a run for it, flash drive in hand. They try to send a blast of air towards their enemy, except there was barely any air in this damned basement. So all their attempts served was to send a pathetic, little breeze towards Hero.

As though they needed any further humiliation.

It barely takes a moment for the crime-stopper to confiscate the flash drive, twisting the villain's arm somewhat painfully and shoving them into the wall, and they toss the drive back into the case. It locks automatically.

Villain does not appreciate their current position at all. Pinned against the wall, a horribly overused cliché, leaving them mortified, if the look on their face is any indication. Said face is now flushed a bold red, their normally sharp tongue now rendered useless.

Worst of all is Hero's smug, lopsided smirk and the way that they look at Villain in general, with their prying eyes, their gaze sparkling with curiosity. It made them feel like a specimen being examined.

"Shh, it's no use struggling, darling," Hero purrs somewhat soothingly. And their words hold truth because Hero's super strength doesn't falter, and Villain's squirming serves little to no purpose but to embarrass them, and apparently entertain their nemesis.

"W-what are you going to do to me?" they all but squeak.

The crime-fighter laughs, and they feel their heartbeat quicken to impossible degrees, not just out of fear, but out of something far more dangerous. . .

"Relax, I won't hurt you. I'd hate to mess up the oh-so-beautiful artwork, hm?" they murmur

Heat spreads through Villain's body like wildfire. Their words catch in their throat, and their breathing becomes shallower. They'd kept it all professional when responding to Hero's flirtations, being dedicated to their job meant adhering to the concept that they were strictly enemies. But then why are they an incoherent mess of emotions right now?

Hero's honey-sweet tone, the blinding grin flashed on perfect white teeth against dark tan skin, and the flowery scent of their fragrance don't sit well with the criminal. But nothing compares to the way they fix their gaze on Villain, as though they were someone to be admired, someone alluring, more than just a weapon. And, it's not like their life had been devoid of romance, but no one had ever looked at them with the same awe-filled fiery passion like Hero did.

"What do you want?" they breathe out. An honest question.

"Right now at least, I want to invite you to have breakfast here with me, it bring pretty early in the morning. It'll be fun, sweetheart," They run the fingers of their free hand along their nemesis's jaw, a feather-light caress.

Whatever the hell Villain was feeling had just intensified to impossible degrees. They are intoxicated with the almost magnetic charm that made it difficult impossible to think straight. And they didn't want it to end.

"Fine," they answer, trying to keep the shakiness out of their words, which come out at a higher pitch than they intend. Damn you, Hero.

Their enemy's whole face lights up, and they flash them a huge grin. Not one of their seductive, lopsided smirks. But a big smile full of utter joy.

That's adorable. Am I growing soft?

"Sure, but I just have one more request."

"Enlighten me."

They trace the shape of their mask in the air. Well, if they're going to have breakfast with this hero, in an outright romantic setting, then the usage of the mask didn't seem to make much sense.

Hero lifts their arm off, and Villain had half a mind to run off and get a hold of the drive. But one look into those gorgeous sea-green eyes, and all their plans were swiftly discarded and shredded to smithereens.

They peel the mask off, heartbeat now erratic.

"Y-you're absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word, Villain," Hero coos, snaking an arm around Villain's waist and pulling them close against their side.

"You're not so bad yourself, hotshot," they laugh, pleased to finally have anything on the hero.

This was foolish, risky, and it broke every single goddamn rule in Villain's book. But never in their life had something ever felt so right.

Tagging for this one specifically: @thelocalnemesis @deckofaces @onlywhump @justalittlecorrupted (u usually ask me to tag u on my stuff, I hope this isn't too presumptuous, Corrupted!) @featheryvee

Also, some of y'all r alr on the taglist, so you'll just be tagged there.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-whump @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @dodo-docs @vernilliom @sirrsnakesssss

Wanna be on the taglist? This will take you there!

#prompt #hero x villain #cocky hero #flirty hero x flustered villain #romance #a little gremlin's writing #female writers #writers on tumblr #a bit fluffy #somewhat self indulgent #enemies to lovers #writing #but really #THANK YOUUU FOR A 100 FOLLOWS!!!!

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j-jinxee · 2 months

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RUNAWAY ☆

TYPE - Criminal! Tyler Joseph x Reader

WARNINGS - Small wounds, guns, police, smn gets tased, kissing.

A/N - aight guys so I'm too impatient to write an actual story and like, make a proper beginning yk? So let's just pretend I wrote an actual start and move on, sick.

----------------------------------------------------

You began to pull into a roadside motel. After a full day of driving with this stranger, all you wanted was to get out of this car. You knew Tyler wouldn't actually hurt you, he just needed to act as if he would to stall the police. You'd met Tyler that morning, at your usual coffee shop. He'd been politely asking people for money, simply to get a cab and get as far away from here as he possibly could. When he asked you, you decided to engage in conversation, his demeanour intrigued you. Although, you couldn't recall the conversation due to all the intense events that happened afterwards. Which lead you to end up here, in the middle of nowhere in some sketchy motel, with a criminal stranger.

Tyler hadn't said much about himself, just that he needed to get far away from here, but he had no money. Saying that he got involved with the "wrong people" and can't get out of it now.

You both made your way out of the car, Tyler walked a little faster than you, probably to minimise the amount of people seeing him. Making his way to the front desk and asking for a room, you strolled around the lobby, looking at this rundown little establishment that you probably never had known about if it wasn't for today. You assumed you'd be ok out here, Tyler wasn't a famous criminal or anything, and even if the police did find you, they'd think he held you hostage, not that you were cooperating with him. You only cooperated because he had a gun, sure you could tell he'd never use it, but it's still intimidating when someone's pointing it at you.

"Hey, cmon.." you heard Tyler call as he started walking towards the steps. You hurried behind him and made your way to the room, being greeted by peeling wallpaper and a TV that didn't work, but atleast the beds looked clean. Already feeling sleepy when you sat down, since your adrenaline had shot up multiple times today, really taking its toll on you, but you couldn't fall asleep just yet. You needed to take your makeup off, brush your teeth, you know the regular night stuff.

Before you could even check if the motel provided toothbrushes, Tyler had already shut and locked the bathroom door. You weren't mad, but he could've said something to be less rude. You assumed he was showering, since that's the only reason to lock the bathroom door, so you just waited for your turn.

After about two minutes, your thoughts were interrupted by faint sounds coming from the bathroom. Small noises of discomfort, every few seconds, what was he doing? You got up and knocked on the door, "you ok in there?" "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Can I come in?" You asked quietly, "sure." You heard the lock click, allowing the door to open. Your eyes were met with the sight of Tyler attempting to get the shards of glass out of the small cuts on his face. They'd been there all day, but this is the first time he'd gotten to a mirror. "Woah! hey hey nonono, don't do it like that. You'll cut your fingers aswell." He was attempting to just pull them out with his hands, which would've been fine if his hands weren't shaking. Thankfully you happened to have tweezers in your pocket, so you asked him to sit down and have you take them out for him.

"Can I... ?" You referred to touching his face to keep your hands steady. He gave you a slight nod, making you proceed with the small operation. There were three small slits on his left cheek, two on the bridge of his nose, and one on his right eyebrow. You thought it'd be best to not ask how he got these, he seemed like he wanted to act as if it didn't happen. He avoided eye contact the whole time, looking anywhere but your face, making it hard for you to concentrate. While delicately picking out the glass from his skin, you absent mindedly studied his features. His messy brown hair that framed his face perfectly, his dark eyes that may not have looked at you, but you could still tell were mesmerising, and his scars, even though they hurt, they weirdly suited him.

"All done!" You said smiling, you'd usually disinfect them too but, you didn't exactly have the right equipment to do so in this tiny motel room. So you substituted with cutips and water, sure it wouldn't keep bacteria out, but it'll atleast get the dry blood off. "Stay there" you told him, going to grab some cutips from the bathroom. Coming back with a few damp ones, you gently held his face up and wiped off the blood. His eyes finally looked up to meet yours, you felt inclined to hold eye contact, but you were half way through a job.

"Ok, done for real now" You smiled, though his first reaction was to reach up and touch his wounds. "Don't do that! You'll make them worse." He seemed to listen, even if it was a bad habit he had. "Thankyou" he looked up at you, "you've been the first to treat me like a human in a while." You saddened hearing his statement, "Tyler..." you began, "you don't have to tell me but, what exactly got you here?" Saying you were eager to know was an understatement, but you weren't gonna push his boundaries, even if he dragged you into something you never wanted to be a part of.

He started with a sigh, then quietly explained the events that lead to this. Telling you how he desperately needed to help out his parents, leading him to work for the wrong people, and getting wrapped up with their shit in the process. They forced him to do things that'd land him in prison for life, but he'd made a mistake, now the police were after him aswell as those shady pricks. His voices started to shake, causing you to look at him properly, his eyes were watering as tears began to fall, landing on the dirty carpet beneath him. Saying he just wanted out of all this, "I've put you in danger now too I- I just, fuck. I can't do this anymore" he stood up and started talking with his hands more, gesturing to himself and you. Saying he's just sick of hurting people when his soul intention was to help. You realised you'd probably get kicked out if he got any louder, so you had to stop him gently.

"Tyler, Tyler hey" you placed your hands on his forearms, stopping his frantic gestures. He stopped and looked you right in the eyes, you could see how broken and tired he felt. "This isn't your fault. You had no way of knowing, I can tell you meant well, ok?" You spoke softly, attempting to calm him down with your words. "Anyone would've made the same mistake, it's just hard for others to see when they're not in the same position as you." You reached up to wipe the tears off his face, "I can tell you're a good person, that's why I haven't tried to run. I haven't felt threatened by you at all." You could see his eyes gain a tiny bit of light, "I will stay, and help you get out, ok?"

His dark eyes stared right back into yours. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, they darted to different points of your face, going from your eyes to your lips, analysing them quite obviously. They landed back on your eyes once more, his lips separated, "can I kiss you?" You felt an involuntary smile creep onto your lips, "sure" he leant in and closed the gap between you both, your hands still on his face and jawline. You felt him smile aswell, both of you were comforted by the complete stranger touching your lips right now, why?

This was the last place you expected to be today, feeling this wanted criminal so intently while he was pressed up against you. You both pulled away for air, but not before opening your eyes to gaze into eachothers souls. His eyes regained some light as he saw further and further into your beautiful iris'. You didn't even know this boys last name, but right now, the only thing you wanted was to be around him, he gave you a new sense of life.

Just for all of that to be interrupted by a familiar sound of the door being kicked down. You both jumped and let go of eachother, facing towards the now busted open door as police rapidly came into the room. You looked at Tyler in a panic, forgetting they were only after him, just for him to get tased immediately. He fell onto the bed and started screaming in pain, "Stop! Stop it! He didn't hurt me!" You immediately stated to the police. He was cuffed and dragged out of the room in an instant, you were pretty sure he was also knocked unconscious. An officer came over to you, "Let's get you outta here, we'll get started on pressing charges don't worry." "No! I don't want to press charges!" You stated desperately, hoping to explain everything that's actually happened before Tyler gets taken away in their car. They didn't stop though, hauling him off aggressively and shoving him into the car, he wasn't exactly innocent, but if they could just listen to him explain the full story- I'm sure they could understand.

The sirens echoed through your head as you started to dissociate, you had no idea what would happen now. ----------------------------------------------------

This is so random pls but I love Criminal Tyler who's actually innocent hehe <33 anyway I should write for Josh now aye.

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simp-ly-writes · 3 days

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Life with You

Can be read as a standalone. "Can you check my heart?" - pt.3

Paring: Jack Glass x afab!Reader

Summary: How the rest of your lives play-out together after dating.

Warnings: I know hardly anything about boxing/competitive fighting. light swearing, protectiveness, and TON's of fluff. mentions of pregnancy.

A/N: a bit chaotic writing order but, *shrugs.*

Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

↳ You two are 100% one of those gym couples that post your workouts together. There is definitely a picture of you sat on his back while Jack does push ups or some spider-man style kiss. Susie posts comments grossed out about the two of you but threatens to kill Jack if he ends up breaking your heart

↳ In light of this, you and Jack take morning jogs together before "saving water" by showering together. You two fight over what music to play and before you know it- its an ice-shower that morning.

↳ Doing meal-prep together in the evening for the week as you talk with his trainer and new assistant for the recommended proteins and what snacks to keep inside your apartment meanwhile Jack is hiding in the bedroom snacking on your favourite cereal that he promises to buy you more of ("...as much want, baby.")

↳ Your apartment soon gets sold a few weeks into dating once Jack insists that he cannot sleep without having you in his arms. While moving in Jack insists on you only carrying the light boxes as he requests for some of Susie's men to help you unload your car

↳ Play-fighting on the couch for the remote or shoving one another side while playing Mario Kart. You both make everything a competition, even running to the car after work for who gets to drive or seeing who can be the cooler aunt/uncle with your nieces and nephews

↳ Date nights consist of planned dinners together every-other weekend and projector move nights of the ceiling above your bed. Going boating in the summertime before jumping into the water with you in his arms. Many hiking trips and late night drives before becoming cozy in the backseat.

↳ While out or meeting his friends, always introduces you as "his girl" as you go a bright red and shake their hands with a chuckle. (Soon everyone is getting sick of you two being "that couple.")

↳ Jacks nicknames for you include: doc, my girl, baby, and goblin (affectionately) after you woke up one morning seeking revenge, chasing his around the house with your pillow for him waking you up before your alarm went off.

↳ Your nicknames for Jack: jay, honey, sunshine (especially after a fight, he acts like he hates the nickname but not so secretly adores it).

↳ Jack always needs to have a physical connection to you, playing with your hair as you talk with some of your friends or family. Holding your hand as you pick out groceries together. Dancing with you in the kitchen- hands on your hips. Foreheads pressed against one another, meditating before a fight

↳ You are the first and last person he sees in every fight, you take him out of his adrenaline-filled state as you rub his muscles later that night before he rolls around and does the same for you.

↳ When you are for some reason unable to make a fight of his, you find flowers waiting for you on the kitchen counter and a small note to call him before and after the fight. ("need to remember who I am doing this for...").

↳ When you have been dating for awhile, you find yourself pregnant you are scared to tell Jack. He is in the prime of his career, you don't think he would want to settle down already and you hide yourself away. Staying at a friends house as Jack panics, thinking that you were gathering up the courage to break up with him

↳ Jack dresses more formally, a nice dress shirt and pair of jeans as he knocks at your best friends door, your favorite flowers and snacks in arms. You open the door, eyes puffy from crying so much as Jack drops everything, wrapping his arms around your waist as you tuck your head in underneath his chin.

↳ This man is ecstatic that you two are going to be parents, jumps up and down that the neighbours below the apartment make a complaint as Jack explains to them you are expecting.

↳ Susie gifts you designer baby clothes, insisting that it is going to be a girl, you all hope them to be a girl (but are more than perfectly fine with them being a baby boy, Jack wants to be a girl dad lets be real about that too).

↳ If it does end of being a boy, Jack is already readying you both to have a girl, man is willing to do anything to braid hair, play dress-up, trains his son to protect them from potential romantic interests

↳ You have to warn Jack about playing to hard with the kids as he races around the new backyard of your country side home on the same land of the Halstead estate as Susie and Eddie have become more interwoven in each others lives than ever before

↳ Jack did continue to box and you respected his decision, though you both did argue about joining him on the road as you refused to re-take your ringside position, wanting to spend time with the kids, picking them up after school, having meals together, going to the park. You did not want to miss a moment.

↳ When he would come home the kids were always waiting at the door for him by the sound of the car pulling into the driveway. Jack picked both of them up, one in each arm while pressing a kiss to your lips as they groaned out in disgust as Jack told them off. ("I love your mom, nothing to be grossed out about now.")

↳ When Susie offers to watch the kids, its as if no time has passed and you are back to that honeymoon stage. What shocked you most is when Jack got on one knee and proposed to you under fairy lights by the bayside. A small table and staff waiting on hand as they clapped and cheered happily for your engagement

↳ You had a beachside wedding as Jack carried you off into the sea as you screamed out your protests as every wedding guest ran to join you both. It was one of your favorite photos that hug above your shared bed as you sipped your tea, Jack coming out of the shower and placing a kiss to your shoulder before both kids bursted into the room, ready to join you both for the night.

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung

↳ A/N: Tell me what divine entity I need to pray to for this to become reality.

#jack glass x reader #jack x reader #glass x reader #x reader #the gentlemen x reader #the gentlemen 2024 x reader #the gentlemen #the gentlemen 2024 #netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes #the gentlemen fanfic #jack glass #susie glass #susan glass

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buddiefix · 3 months

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Injury (Major/Minor) Fic's

The following are some of my favourite buddie fanfictions that involve the character(s) getting injured, sick, presumed dead or experiencing a close call.

(Any new fic's I find that fall under this category will be added to this post, so feel free to check back for edits!)

All the Things We Already Knew by jupiterfics

9-1-1 (TV)

It's the smoke that wakes him, seeping into his apartment not ten minutes after he finally knocks off.

He's off the couch in half a second, heart pounding with adrenaline, at the kitchen counter before he even realizes that the familiar smell in his nose is burning insulation.

There isn't any alarm going, no sprinklers on, no neighbors screaming or doors banging open, but Buck knows.

"9-1-1," says a vaguely familiar voice on the other end of the phone once he punches in the numbers. "What's your emergency?"

Language: English Words: 21,640 Chapters: 1/1

Dreaming Through the Noise by maybeamystery

9-1-1 (TV)

To his right, he sees the familiar railing of his loft; to his left, the staircase appears. Eddie sucks at the pulse point just under Buck’s jaw, and Buck shivers as his eyes trail somewhat hazily over the rest of his bedroom furniture. But then he realizes his TV is gone. Why the hell is his TV gone? Buck opens his mouth to ask Eddie if he knows, and—

—he wakes up—

—to a rain shower over his bed.

[Buck is sick. His family takes care of him.]

Language: English Words: 8,181 Chapters: 1/1

say a prayer for the broken bones by SourwolfSeblaine (smilingbuckley)

9-1-1 (TV)

While Eddie is on a two-week vacation trying to fix his relationship with his parents, Buck gets hurt on a call. He makes them promise not to call Eddie and moves in with Bobby and Athena for recovery... Eddie is not thrilled when he finds out.

Language: English Words: 5,318 Chapters: 2/2

Natural Instinct by inkinmyheartandonthepage

9-1-1 (TV)

Buck drives Eddie and Chris to the airport and, on instinct, he kisses Eddie goodbye.

“Oh shit,” Buck whispered out. His head swam as he stared unseeing, the moment he said goodbye to Eddie stuck on a loop inside his brain – cupping the back of Eddie’s head, fingers sliding into his hair and dragging him forward for a kiss.

“Buck? What’s wrong?” Bobby demanded, stilling his movement in the kitchen.

“I kissed him,” Buck swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I kissed Eddie goodbye and told him I loved him.” He turned slowly to look at Bobby, hands shaking. “Oh fuck, Bobby what have I done?”

Language: English Words: 7,927 Chapters: 1/1

no grave can hold my body, i’ll crawl home to him by Sapphic_terror

9-1-1 (TV)

Buck didn’t believe in much, not in God and certainly not in his parents. But for some inexplicable reason, he believed in the utter goodness of Eddie Diaz.

It started with a grenade in a man’s chest. It started with jokes during shift and the absolute love and adoration on his face when Christopher was around. It started with the way he made everyone feel at ease, the bloody and injured people he was helping, those working alongside him, anyone and everyone.

It started with a million little, bright things, but Buck has always been - oblivious. So he finally realized it, the trust he had, the love he had for Eddie in the worst moment. With a gun to his throat and a very angry man talking calmly in his ears.

Buck and Eddie have always been inevitable, they just needed a shove, or a near death experience, to figure things out

Language: English Words: 8,165 Chapters: 2/2

Cruiser Bruiser by FandomLife54

9-1-1 (TV)

There’s a quiet determination to his step when he walks into the locker room that morning, but any and all thoughts he had come to a grinding halt as he takes in the scene before him. Buck is sitting on the bench, back to him, and blowing out air slowly like he’s bracing himself for something. That something turns out to be putting on a shirt.

He lifts his arms a fraction and immediately drops them with a hiss, movement tugging at the vicious splotch of purple and blue bloomed over the right side of his lower back.

A close call on the side of the freeway has Eddie reevaluating his relationship with Buck, particularly how strained it's become due to Eddie's anger since the lawsuit. Some domestic love and more than a few heart to hearts have Eddie confessing things he should have a long time ago.

Language: English Words: 8,530 Chapters: 1/1

sometimes an onion really is just an onion (and that’s all there is to it) by snarkymuch

9-1-1 (TV)

“Shit, shit, shit,” he cursed as he gripped the wrist of his injured hand, holding it above his heart. The cut wasn’t massive and, by design, not something you could stitch, but that didn’t make it any less messy or risky.

The blood thinners were not his friend right now.

A singular river of red trailed down his forearm to his elbow, then dripped onto the floor, leaving little splatters that his shoes soon smeared against the tile.

“Towel, towel, towel,” he said, spinning on his heel, gaze raking the room frantically. “Fuck—shit, there you are.”

Buck wanted fajitas, so he went to the store for the sweet onions he needed, but he got the wrong kind because he unexpectedly ran into the team, which had nothing to do with why he was crying in his kitchen--obviously, the shitty onions were to blame.

And his day just gets worse from there--as he ends up fileting off a strip of skin, bleeding everywhere, then accidentally hitting his talk-to-text and sending a ramble he never meant anyone to hear to the last person on earth to care: Eddie.

Language: English Words: 5,416 Chapters: 1/1

after everything i must confess (i need you) by Ink_Dancer

9-1-1 (TV)

After the lawsuit gets resolved, Buck and Eddie get stuck in an elevator during Buck's first shift back. Buck, stung by Eddie's icy behavior, forces Eddie to talk to him.

or: very cliché elevator fic, set immediately post-lawsuit and pre-season 3 episode 6 "monsters." aka: grocery store divorce part 2

Language: English Words: 5,779 Chapters: 1/1

it’s okay by itsmylifekay

9-1-1 (TV)

Finally back with the team, Buck isn’t going to let anything tear him away again. He has to prove his place, his part in the family, even if that means smiling through the pain.

Or, Buck gets hurt on a call and doesn’t tell anyone.

Language: English Words: 11,087 Chapters: 1/1

Rubble by Hpdm20

9-1-1 (TV)

Taylor broke up with him a month ago and he hadn’t told anyone, not because it was a secret, but because he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to them. It reminded him so strongly of the time after the bombing that he wanted to cry. How easily forgettable he was. Apparently punchable, as well. He’d been punched before; it came with the job as a bartender or when he tried out for Navy SEALS. Even his dad had gotten in a few good ones when he disobeyed to get their attention. None of the people who punched him mattered. Not like Chimney did. His brother, someone he loved. But maybe Buck’s love just wasn’t enough. Not to stop people from leaving or from wanting him gone.

OR: Buck is badly hurt when the floor of a building caves in. Eddie talks to him through dispatch and Chim finally apologies.

Language: English Words: 5,947 Chapters: 1/1

this love is alive (back from the dead) by Ink_Dancer

9-1-1 (TV)

Maddie's panicked call. Eddie standing in Buck's empty apartment. A needle in his neck. Buck, now, on the table in front of him, unconscious. "Hi, Eddie," said Jonah.

or: buck and eddie in the hen and chim situation from 5x17 "hero complex."

Language: English Words: 5,323 Chapters: 1/1

your heart beats my blood (my breath fills your lungs) by Yavilee

9-1-1 (TV)

They break the surface at the same time and she is coughing and gasping, but she’s breathing and she’s alive and that’s all that matters. The elation bubbles sweet at the back of Eddie’s throat and he turns, grin already stretching up into his cheeks, expecting to meet Buck’s equally triumphant gaze. He’s met with only water, the surface still and unbroken except for the waves Eddie is kicking into existence. It takes barely a second for his lungs to go tight with the realization that something is wrong, so very very wrong. * Or the one where there is a car accident, Buck almost drowns and Eddie fights to keep him alive.

Language: English Words: 9,225 Chapters: 1/1

Buy Back the Secrets by allyasavedtheday

9-1-1 (TV)

He casts his gaze to the right, to the voice he’d heard a minute ago and the hand still on his shoulder.

And, well. Okay. So Buck may have just been unconscious for an indeterminable length of time but he doesn’t think he’s exaggerating when he says the guy leaning over his bedside is one of the most attractive people he’s seen in a long time. Especially when his face splits into a smile that rivals the brightness of the hospital lights that almost just fucking blinded Buck a second ago.

“Welcome back, hotshot,” the guy says and it sounds fond – familiar – and Buck honestly has no idea who this guy is.

His brown hair is dishevelled on top of his head and his eyes look tired but then Buck notices the LAFD t-shirt so- alright. Someone from the firehouse, maybe? But he’s pretty sure he’d remember a face like that.

After getting hurt on a call, Buck wakes up thinking it's 2018. AKA Buck can't remember who Eddie is but he's pretty sure everyone's lying when they say they're "just friends."

Language: English Words: 18,808 Chapters: 3/3

Exhale by themandylion

9-1-1 (TV)

Buck’s Jeep gets stolen, which is a pretty shitty way to start the day. The 118 answer a collision and find said Jeep on fire, a deceased driver inside, which is arguably an even worse way to start the day. Or, a wildly indulgent "i thought you were dead" idea that wouldn't leave me alone.

Language: English Words: 5,297 Chapters: 1/1

(Friendly reminder I do not own any of the works listed in this post, and all can be located on archiveofoureown.org)

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 buddie #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 fandom #9-1-1 fic #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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sicjimin · 1 year

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— Jiminie Face Off —

a.n : hii ! my first writing after so long .. tbh i feel so rusty, so i apologize if this story isn't any good and just meh. i lost touch to my writing hejsjdjks anyway you all must have know already that this based on jimin's last live. ( i hope he's feeling well already :(( ) anyway .. enjoy !

"Do we still have schedule after this?", Jimin asks as soon as he finished changing his clothes—throwing himself to the couch, closing his eyes, as his hand weakly move to remove his eyeshadow and eyeliner , at the same time still trying to catch his breath and calmed down the adrenaline that's rushing in his body after the recording. His head pounds rhytmically to his heartbeat.

"No .. we're done for today", The manager cleared it, gaining a hum from the artist. "Are you okay, Jimin-ssi?"

"Mhm", Jimin slowly pushed himself up, with a low groan, as his muscles starts to ache. He really pushed himself hard the last few days. Good thing today is the last schedule of his promotions. "Can we go home now?", he asked, blinking rapidly to refocused his sight.

Why is the room spinning a little?

"Yes yes, we can"

The manager stood up from his seat on the couch next to Jimin, holding out a hand for Jimin to take. It takes him few seconds before he finally takes it, standing up on his own two feet. The world was spinning again. He squeezed his eyes shut once more, leaning his forehead as he gently massaged it—can't help a low whimper escapes his mouth.

“Jimin-ssi .. what's wrong?”, the manager asked, concerned. Jimin shakes his head, pressing his lips together.

“No no .. it's fine, just stood up too fast“, he mumbled, not looking at the other man. The manager nods in understanding and guides them to the parking lot of the building.

Jimin leaned on his seat when the security opened the car door for him, immediately closing his eyes yet again—feeling exhaustion hits on him in a full blast. His body starting to hurts—as he plans to catch a good few minutes nap until he arrived to his apartment. It's an hour and half drive anyway, that's good enough to sleep.

He could feel a small headache starting to build at the back of his skull. He sighs deeply, bringing his hand to massage around his temple, feeling the car starts moving. He makes a mental note to take medicine as soon as he arrived—preventing it to become a full blown migraine that he should have seen it coming after working himself to exhaustion.

He has been on it for a month full, without a break if he thinks about it. Completing the album, prerecording then and there, photoshoots, etc etc. Truthfully speaking, it wasn't that hard. Just in some days like this, when everything is almost over, it dawned on him—like his body finally let it to get loose. And he knows he gonna fall sick sooner or later. It always been like that for him.

The manager didn't say much on their drive. It doesn't surprise Jimin in anyway. They were used to such silences between each other—the driver was just too focused on driving to really talk. Sometimes the silence will stretch, sometimes they'd be having some quiet conversations but mostly, it's just a silent ride. Jimin usually can't stand it—most of days he attempt to make few conversation, either it's about his schedule, or asking about his manager's children. Even it didn't last long, they still have talked. Anything. But now he's grateful at his manager silent demeanor. He's just exhausted, mentally and physically drained. He's not sure if he can let out anything other than groan or a whine.

Jimin had no idea where are they right now and how long it have been, when the familiar nausea creeps onto his stomach. He groans quietly, as his hands moves from his head to clutch at his stomach—his breathing getting shallow as he gulps the bile that starts rising in his throat. He tries to breathe evenly and slowly through his mouth—remembering his doctor instructions, while cursing himself to overestimated his motion sickness—hoping it'll keep it away. He didn't want to accept defeat and vomit right now. That would just be embarrassing.

"Hyung", He croaked out after taking 5 consecutive deep breaths, but get a futile results as saliva keeps filling his mouth. Making his tongue thicker and bland. It's uncomfortable.

He squints his eyes, as the light from the outside becomes too bright for him. "Yes? Do you need anything?", the manager said, turning around to look at him. Jimin blinked his eyes, "Do you have mint candy?", He tried to hide a grimace when another wave hit his guts, forcing him to bite his lower lip to keep his lunch in bay.

His manager—has been working too long for him— frowned. Knowing that the question usually meant nothing good. "Are you feeling sick?", he inquired, voice laced with worry as he rummages over his bag, and hands the artist few candies.

Jimin quickly plops one to his mouth, and taking a deep breath. Letting the fresh minty and sweet flavor filling his mouth to battle against the bland one. There was no point to lie, since the manager knew him that well anyway. "Just a bit", he muttered under his breath. "It's fine"

"Want water?", Jimin shook his head, the thought of drinking making his stomach swirls and bloated. "I will just sleep, wake me up if we're arrived", he whispered, and he heard the older sigh heavily. "Okay"

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep—but also didn't take long to stir awake as nausea looming again. Harder this time. He purses his lips, tried his best to sit up—but the motion made his head spin even more. He took a deep breath and try to ignore the painful throbbing behind his eyes as his heart started pounding erratically against his chest. He felt like he's going to throw up.

Jimin squeezed his eyes again as he pressed his fist against his lips. Trying his hardest to stay calm and collected, taking a few controlled deep breath. But the car isn't stopping yet and with his half awake state—his body reacts faster than his brain. Before he could hold it, a burp that he wants to let out, turns wetter than expected, followed by something burning his throat. He can feel the hot, sour liquid traveling up.

Jimin gasps, quickly tighten his hand around his mouth, as he sits up straight. A wave of nausea hit him when he tries to swallow the bitter taste. He sucked a deep breath.

It feels like he's locked in.

He is dizzy, nauseous, and his stomach clenching painfully. "Hyung?" His words came out muffled due to the grip around his mouth. His manager turned towards him, startled when he sees the younger. He didn't need anymore words, quickly rummaging the dashboard and fetch a plastic bag that they keep for time like this. He quietly swats it open and hands it to Jimin. Jimin shakily takes it, holding it against his mouth, trying his best to hold himself as his vision is already blurry from all the movement of the car.

"Do you want us to pull aside?", The latter speaks carefully. He didn't get an answer—but a quiet moan followed with a burp, and sounds of puke comes to the bag. He winces, then instructing the driver to pull aside as he could hear a new gag from the younger.

A tear ran down his face—"Jimin-ah"

Jimin feels awful. His stomach aches badly as the sickness continues climbing higher. He feels like throwing up over and over and sobs. He hates being sick—feeling the pain in his muscles and back from the long hours he put in adding to the cramps, as his stomach contracts again, sending more of his lunch up to the bag. Putting more weight of everything inside to the mix.

It's awful.

"Here", his manager says, handing a bottle of water which Jimin gratefully takes, taking a small hesitant sip as he could feel his stomach still upset on him actually. He barely aware the weight of the bag has gone from him when the manager quietly takes it. His head is too fuzzy to process anything. "Feel better?", the older asks again, taking the bottle as Jimin hands it to him, slumping over the seat.

He didn't even realized the car has stopped. He weakly lift his head, still hesitant to let go the bag as his manager open the door, letting the fresh air come rushing in. "You want to come out?"

Jimin is not sure if he can stand up right now, so he settles facing outside with still holding the bag tightly, as a new wave of vomit comes rushing up his throat. He coughed and gagged a couple of times before his inside calmed down.

"Yeah". Jimin murmurs, closing his eyes. "Thank you hyung". He feels the manager patting his back softly, before he ushered the younger in and hears his door close again.

When Jimin opened his eyes for the second time, the car has stopped. "Jimin-ah, we're arrived", the older informs, and Jimin hums, rubbing his eyes and yawns as the exhaustion hit him again. "Do you need my help?"

Jimin looks up at his manager with a small smile on his face, "No, thanks hyung. I got it. Go home. Have a good night", he said with a little tired voice.

"Alright", the manager replies with a small nod. "Call if you need anything"

Jimin gave him a small nod before pushing himself off the seat. "Thank you," he says, bowing a little, before the car drive off. He sighs, dragging his body up to his unit, still feeling dizzy as his eyes are a little clouded from sleep. He reaches his floor and enters the room, immediately collapsing on the couch. He falls into it, not bothering to take off his shoes, jacket, or even cleaning up before lying down. Closing his eyes.

He's not sleepy, but he's just too tired and worn out to care about anything. And the pain behind his head and the nausea hasn't gone too. Not even slightly.

He lays down like that for awhile, starting to feel his muscles relaxing, despite there's still cramps then and there. He looked at the clock, it's already 9—and he hasn't eat dinner. He's tempted to skip it and just go to his room to sleep. But there's this lingering hunger in him, as he already let out all of his lunch and maybe even breakfast earlier in the car. He needs to eat something. He huffs, can't help a loud whine that escapes his lips, as he pushes himself to clean up and find something to eat.

He finishes the food in no time, ditching the dishes for him to clean up in the morning, and retreats to his room. Throwing himself up to the bed with ease. He closes his eyes, and lets out a slow heavy breath.

There's only ramyeon. And some egg, that's enough as a complimentary. It wasn't a lot, but its food nonetheless. As he starts eating, he notices that his appetite hasn't gotten any better—even though he's hungry and doesn't have an option but to eat. But he can't really focus. His head feels heavy and he has never felt more tired.

He needs to sleep. No. He wants to sleep.

He's tired. Just...really tired. He feels his whole body slowly drifting off. Maybe sleep will come soon. His hand reaching his forehead, as he rubs at his temples. His entire body is sore and he can feel all the pains from the day weighing upon him. He curls himself small, tucking the blanket up high under his chin as he rests on his side and drifts to dreamland, feeling warmth seeping through his body.

***

Jimin know he's sick and fucked right then when he stirs awake in the middle of the night—if the darkness of his room is a right indicator—feeling a prickle burn all over his body, but his hands and feets are freezing cold as he curls it further up. He can barely breathe with his nose clogged up. His throat itch but coughing making him nauseous. His muscles aches especially around his neck areas, and his stomach .. the worst of it all—churns painfully. It feels like his guts lodged up around his diaphragm, in his middle, but also filling around it with gas that makes him feel bloated. Jimin whimpered softly.

He huffs when he suddenly feels like he'll vomit anytime soon, feeling a tightness in his chest and the knot tightening, as he feels his stomach twist and turn in protest. He coughs harshly once, trashing his arm to cover his mouth and nose. His dinner was making a jump to the back of his throat.

It feels like he's in the car all over again. Like someone shaking his bed, swaying it left and right, and spins it as nausea batted at him wave by wave. He keeps on rubbing and control his breathing—the thought of waking up and search for something, medicines, or even just candy ; slips through his mind, but he's too dizzy and weak to actualized it— hoping that this simple act could subside the waves of nausea that crash inside him.

He tries to turn to his back, but finds the sudden movement is causing more discomfort and make the headache worse. With a gasp and a low groan, he tries to relax against his pillows. It's awful.

He shifts again, while trying his best to keeping his stomach in bay. He sneaks his cold ice hands under his shirts, and bites the urge to curse as he feels it gurgle beneath his palm. With a wince, he moves his palms in circle motion, careful to not give too much pressure as he's currently trying not to throw up all over his own sheets.

He's tired. Tired enough to finally give in to sleep and allow himself to drift off to unconsciousness for a little while.

And it does. It takes time but it does.

After few harsh wave that sending him gagging all over his palm—threatening ramyeon he just ate to come up. Slowly but surely, the nausea disappears. He stops shifting, letting his hand rest on his stomach—which still feels heavy and tight, but now less painful.

***

The second time he stirs awake, Jimin assumed he already got enough sleep—if again, the faint sounds of bird and a dimness in his room is anything to go by. But he didn't get to ponder over what time is it or even think where his phone is like he usually did if he wake up, as he already got his mouth full and his hand gripping tightly around it. Brain screaming at him to run run and run, as he tries to untangles himself from the blanket, almost hitting the floor in the process as his dizziness hasn't easing up and standing up too fast is not helping his case.

He barely register anything when he throws himself over the toilet, and hear a splash of mouthful of sick hitting the bowl. He blinks. Taking a deep breath before curled over the toilet with gag, trickles of his dinner flowing freely from his mouth. He shuddered as it burns with the taste of spice. But he didn't get to whine when he burps, then the floodgates opening as a thick stream of undigested noodles plops into the toilet.

Jimin grimaces, squeezing his eyes as tears prickling over it with the horrible sensation filling all his senses. He pants, spitting the thick saliva that dangles over his lower lips, before caught on a deep belch, and a bigger stream coming up and splattering all over the rim of the bowl. He pulls his hand away, coughing hard afterwards and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, wiping away the tears running down his cheeks, the stench of sickness wafting through the bathroom.

He groans, shifting on his heels to get more comfortable as he knows this gonna be a long one. He drag himself to sit straighter before his breath hitched with a sour burp, that continued with deep, strong heaves—pushing all his dinner to come out, mouthful after mouthful, until his stomach was painfully empty and only discolored liquid gurgled up his throat.

Sighing, he drags himself up, ignoring the way his muscles burn and complaint with each movement he makes. He takes two steps towards the sink, turning on the tap before swirling some water into his bitter taste mouth, and throwing it away. He turns off the faucet and looks at himself in the mirror. His face still wet with sweat and red from the fever that still burning on his skin. His hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyelids. His whole person looks terrible as he stares back at his reflection.

By the time he's done, he barely have any energy to flush the mess and clean up himself as he feels weak. He sniffles.

Everything hurts.

With the last remaining energy he had, he curled himself back into the blanket—know well that his fever spikes up yet another notch. He shuts his eyes, and lets himself fall back to sleep.

***

Jimin grunts loudly, as there's a loud ringing—that he knows coming from his phone— that wokes him up. His room is no longer dim, but full of brightness as sunrays seeping through the curtain. He squints his eyes, the bright light piercing them as he tries his best to open them wider. There's an ache in his head too, probably caused by how his body kept tossing and turning throughout his sleep. He groans again, rolling to his side. His body aches, protesting as he tries to move. He pats his bed blindly, wanting to navigate where his phone is.

The ringing doesn't stop and he opens his mouth as his voice comes out hoarse and scratchy, sounding as rough as the sand in an hourglass after being thrown against a stone and repeatedly hit. "What."

"Oh my god, you're finally awake!" Hoseok's cheerful voice filters through the speaker.

"Mhm", Jimin hums, his brain coming empty with the response.

"Let's go out for lunch! Hyung will pay. There's this restaurant that hyung want to try—", Jimin tunes out as his hyung loud voice continues on, talking about food.

His eyes slowly adjust to the light that streams in through his curtains. "Hyung .. i can't", Jimin mumbles weakly when Hoseok stops on the other side.

"Why? Do you have any promotions left?"

" 'm sick", Jimin replies simply, wincing as his voice cracks from dehydration.

"What?!"

All Jimin remembers were Hoseok's loud gasps, he hang up the phone, and he fall asleep again.

He awakes to a banging sound of his apartment door along with the buzzing of his phone. Jimin's eyes flicker open, adjusting themselves to the bright light streaming in. He blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to the sunlight. His vision is blurry. He blinks again.

Everything is fuzzy. Too blurry. But there's someone that waiting at the door, and he should open it to make the banging stop.

He tries to push himself to sitting position, but his body immediately gives up on him; collapsing on the bed as everything swirls around his mind. He groaned, closing his eyes as he tries to focus his gaze somewhere else. It took him another few minutes before he could stand on his wobbly feet, and slowly tracing the walls to keep himself steady as he walks to the door.

"Hobi hyung?", Jimin croaked, his throat scratchy and dry and raw. He cleared it roughly, making it hurt.

"Why—", he's interrupted by a familiar shriek. And the next thing he knows, there are arms around him, and then palms all over his flushed cheeks and forehead as the older fusses over him. "Oh my .. Jiminie .. you're really sick", Hoseok mumbles, worry laced with panic in every words. He holds him close, his palms still pressed onto Jimin's cheeks as Jimin leans against him, and closes his eyes again. It felt warm. It's safe. And he's warm. "I know"

Hoseok shrieks, chattering as he guides him and the younger inside, "How long have you been sick? Have you eat anything? Why don't you call hyung?"

Jimin gulps at the concern. He presses his fingers faintly to his lips as liquid creeping up—"Hyung", Jimin mumbles, tugging the older sleeves to slow down his pace as he halts on his. Hoseok stops his rants about what he's going to make and to do to take care of the younger. "Yeah?"

"Bathroom", Jimin whispers. Feeling nausea licking the back of his throat, and he's pretty sure its bile.

A look of understanding flashes across Hoseok's face, "I'll take you." He grabs Jimin's arm, gently leading him towards the bathroom—and rub his back along with massaging the younger tense nape as he jerks out tons of water the moment they stepped into the bathroom. When he's finished, Jimin slump against Hoseok's chest, breathing heavily as he's still shaken up from the previous bout of nausea. "Here," the older says, placing the small bottle of water on his chest, "Drink up."

Jimin scrunched his face, "I will throw it out again"

Hoseok nudges the bottle toward him, "Take a small sips, Jiminie, slowly. You're dehydrated", he coaxed quietly, rubbing the younger's shoulder. "And let's rest on the couch? Or do you want to go to your room? I will make something for you to eat. I bring medicine too"

Jimin huffs, nodding along. His brain is too fuzzy to argue or make any comment. He just know the feeling of relief that flood his body—that his ex-roommate is here. And he's not alone.

"Hyung ..", Jimin calls out as he curls on the couch, listening to the clattering of pan and plates from the kitchen. "Hm?", Hoseok hums a bit loud. "Are you okay, Jimin-ah?"

"Mhm .. hyung .. you're staying, right?"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jimin #caretaker!hoseok

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red-thorns · 2 years

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Another short story that takes place after this one. Once again from Sludge’s POV.

Smudge stood staunch and still, peering around the rock for maybe five whole minutes while Sludge slumped against the craggy wall. Hells, he was weak. It would have been a cinch to rush about the prairie chasing livestock for even longer than this back at the farm. Even though much of his slave duties had been anything but light work, the cat doubted it was just aging that had atrophied his body so much.

Plus, he couldn't stop trembling. He was out. He was finally out, and even just half an hour ago he hadn't even imagined anything other than more years of being locked in that room every night. And his partner...

His green eyes traced the shape of Smudge's back, the tattered boots, the ruined brim of his hat, the matted tail that didn't so much as twitch with his concentration. Sludge followed the edges of his silhouette, making sure not a line of it shimmered, not a speck shown transparent or wavered like a mirage. It was still almost unbelievable that it wasn't some sick trick. But Smudge was here, solid, real. Alive.

After years of not hearing a lick of him, Sludge had to resolve that his man had died in his struggle to escape. He had to give up hope so he wouldn't drive himself insane waiting to see him again. At the very least, his love would have died free.

And yet... here he was.

The grey tabaxi could hardly move as the reality of the present sank into him deeper and deeper. He just stared out of the small cave of their pitiful hide-out at Smudge's back while he kept watch until he finally turned around.

"I don't think they'll follow us here," Smudge muttered gruffly, slinking back to where Sludge had deposited himself.

Now, staring at his face again, seeing his eyes and that unmistakable mark across his muzzle, reality hit Sludge even harder. Even after all this time, that surly face of his still made Sludge's chest feel lighter, even under the age and stress apparent in the skin around his eyes and the bones under his shabby fur.

Swallowing down some of the adrenaline that still coursed through him after their escape, Sludge finally spoke up.

"Heaven's asses, you look like shit, man," he stated the obvious in a coarse voice to the rugged ranger crouching next to him.

The eyes that had been intently studying him back wrinkled in a smile that looked like they hadn't practiced for years. Smudge's head drooped downwards with a single, breathy chuckle. His tattered hat skewed sideways with the movement, so he slipped it off his scarred ears as he lifted his face again. Even in the gloom Sludge could still see a glint of wetness in those eyes.

"Speak for yerself, ya dog," he retorted, the joking tone overtaken by a pain-filled shake in his voice. Smudge's claws picked at the sleeve of Sludge's drab slave garments to try to emphasize the humor.

"'Least I'm not coverin' myself in some dusty potato sack."

It was like their old playful bantering, rough-housing while they leaned against the fence of the horse pastures as the sun sunk behind the hills after a warm day of work on the farm.

...But it wasn't like that. It was just a desperate attempt to recover that feeling here in a dismal cave miles underground after thinking each other dead -or worse- for over a decade. The levity they were trying to smear over the situation was only proving to contrast with where their wretched lives had led them since. Any joking smiles on their faces faded quickly with that realization, with the thought of all that the other must have been through in all that time.

Sludge saw a break in Smudge's eyes, but the other cat quickly covered it up with the half-gloved paw that wasn't holding his hat, roughly dragging his hand over his face with a hoarse intake of breath before standing back up. He shed some of his artillery, bows and arrows, before whipping off the tattered drow-styled duster he'd been wearing. It'd obviously been mended and adjusted by Smudge himself, and Sludge felt a weird sense of pride to see the man had kept up with some of the skills he'd learned as a small tabaxi.

Then the coat was lain over Sludge's slumped body. He hadn't realized he'd been visibly shivering until the shelter covered him, trapping in his own body heat and adding what it had absorbed from the previous wearer.

"Here, you need this more than I do right now. Those scraggly, long whiskers of yours obviously ain't doin' their job."

Sludge found he still wasn't able to do anything but stare. It struck him how long it had been since anyone had acted so casually caring about his well-being, how this simple gesture was filling up his whole world right now, how much it meant that Smudge had always cared about him in that grumpy way of his... and that he still would.

A twinge of concern graced the ginger cat's face as Sludge remained unmoving, and it brought him back into self-awareness. Ah, he was acting pitiful, he realized. Clutching the coat to his chest, he straightened up against the wall he leaned on, trying to recover some sliver of dignity. He would have liked to stand up and put in on proper, make a joke about who wore it better, but he had to admit that the energy wasn't in him right now.

Instead he asked with a sarcastic quirk of the lip, "You kill a lotta drow to get somethin' this fancy?"

Something akin to a smiled came upon Smudge's face again, but there was nothing light about it.

"Not as many as I woulda liked," he stated darkly through that menacing smirk.

Sludge's morbid joke and Smudge's morbid reply had led to more shadowy thoughts. Thinking about this cat in front of him cutting down the evil bastards that had kept him beaten and bound to their will all this time honestly filled this liberated slave with glee. He saw himself in his mind wielding his own dagger or two to run through the backs of the detestable fucks who had ordered him around, punished him for existing as he did, made light of his suffering. He imagined the blood spilling from their veins, those ugly sneers on their faces being ripped clean off. He wished they could have safely stuck around to watch some of those guards get slain by the weird, wild bastard Smudge had snuck in with.

Sludge's expression began to mirror the other's with these thoughts.

"We could still pick off a few more of those suckers," he prompted with a cunning smile of his own.

They exchanged this vehement, vicious energy for a moment before Smudge's face grew more serious. Thoughtful. He considered the tabaxi in front of him, the points of the arrows he'd deposited to the ground, the dark, unobstructed opening of their cave.

"Not worth it," he finally said forlornly, angrily, and his sunken eyes sparked with determination as they met back with Sludge's gaze.

"I just want to get us out of this sun-forsaken shit hole as fast as possible. You've spent enough time down here."

Sludge's own nasty grin faded with these words. Ugh, the man was right. Even if they went back and slayed as many drow as their hearts desired, no amount of death would bring back the years Sludge had lost to their evil misdeeds. They'd just be putting themselves back in danger, risking their own lives to the worst creatures of these caves before even seeing the surface again. This realization made their grey whiskers rankle with disgust. He wanted them to pay, but...

He relaxed again.

Being able to escape the drows' grasp and once again feel the surface's sun on his face, the grass under his paws, run under the star-strewn sky with this man's hand in his own... that would be victory enough.

He unashamedly returned Smudge's gaze with this ambition and gave a determined nod.

"Good."

Then he pushed away from the wall, snapping a hand out to grasp Smudge's ripped collar and pulling his face in for a clumsy but passionate kiss.

#red's words #short story #dnd #smudge #sludge

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fullmoondaggers-art · 2 years

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Hotel Room Blues

Zenigata is confronted to himself and his thoughts alone in his dingy hotel room after a long day, his mind wanders.

Read on Ao3

The door slammed behind him, the loud sound muting the wails of police sirens despite them echoing only in his head. With a sigh he shed his dirty trenchcoat, along with the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline, he folded it over the worn out chair of his hotel room. The bulletproof vest's weight off his shoulders instantly replaced by one greater. Lupin had slipped between his fingers again. He could be anywhere now, on the other side of the world, or in the room next to his, him and his partners disguised and unrecognisable. This thought almost tempted him to investigate right away, but his body reminded him that he had been awake for far too long, and he wasn't so young anymore.

He kept forgetting to eat. He kept forgetting to sleep. He only allowed himself rest when he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He swayed, considering the comfort of the undone, messy bed in the corner for an instant before shaking his head. Maybe he could wring out more from this day. He settled on his flimsy chair, facing the window, all the eyes of the city peering at him. The table in front of him was covered in cigarette ash that spilled from the empty instant ramen plastic packaging he used as an ashtray, some documents about Lupin's recent activity scattered on top of it, more packs of ramen- he was getting sick of eating it. He often found himself straight up skipping meals so he would avoid having to eat this horrible mushy salty tasteless garbage. And, in a corner, pushed away from everything, some postcards from sceneries ago he never ended up writing on.

He tried to send them postcards whenever he could. He hoped they made their way home to Japan more often than him. He always choked up whenever he drew his pen to the paper. Always the same song: Still on Lupin's trail, working hard as always. I love you all so much, I miss you both so much. I wish I could come home to even spend a few seconds with you two. I hope your studies are going well, regardless I am proud of you. I'll catch him this time. Maybe then I will wake from this nightmare. It's endless, it's eating me alive, it's driving me insane. I want to be free of this hunt, I am miserable and tired and homesick, I don't even feel like I have a home anymore. I don't even know if we would recognise each other if we walked past each other in the street, you must have grown so much since I first left. I must have grown so old in almost twenty years. I hope your mother would still love me. It haunts me beyond reason, and it makes me aprehending coming back. Sometimes I wish he would push it too far and kill me. Of course there never was enough room for all the weight from his heart on the small postcards, and he was thankful for that. He didn't want his family to know how bad he was really feeling. He wiped the tears off his eyes with his sleeves, his shirt's cuff smudged with black.

Ah, that too.

He had been experimenting with things. Had some thoughts about himself. Bought the cheapest mascara at the dollar store. It's a modern world, men should wear makeup too. It made his eyes more intense, he loved it. Having to travel so much, having to comb through so many cities made him see a lot of new colorful people and ideas. He was sure he wasn't gay or a woman, he had turned the ideas around in his mind for a long time, but he wasn't uncomfortable with the idea of doing things that could make him be seen as such. People didn't usually notice the mascara-except when it bled and made him look like a panda- but they would raise eyebrows if he checked in wearing a nice tailored skirt under his trenchcoat. He liked the idea of it, but it wouldn't be ideal to run after Lupin. And he would have to shave his legs. And his knees didn't look that good. How did Fujiko do this? Even Lupin changed shape and voice with frightening ease. He looked gorgeous in a dress, with a head of long blonde hair he had definetly seen Fujiko wear before. He wished he would see his own daughter dressed up so nicely someday. Lupin will have to do in the meantime, he and his clique were practically part of the family by now.

#lupin III #lupin the 3rd #lupin the third #koichi zenigata #inspector zenigata #fanfiction #rupan sansei

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bluebiiird · 1 year

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Sometimes I worry that I don’t understand things properly. I’m a highly emotional person, having gone through life in an emotional war, front and center at all times. A young girl with a mom too busy to notice her alcoholic husband was abusing in daughters in more way than one, and a dad too sick to care. too tired from his own life of trauma and divorce that took his daughters away because he couldn’t handle his own life as it was. I took salvation in my room, despite knowing at any time it could open and become a world of hell. knowing that at all times hell was on the other side of that door. i walked through life on tip toes and wide eyes being hyper aware of those around me hoping to sneak through the interactions enough to return to as much of a safe place i could find.

as i got older and started realizing what was effecting me so intensely, i found a new salvation. driving in the car with my mom, listening to AFI and iron maiden and whatever else would come on the radio as we drove for miles and miles. sometimes near the coast, sometimes to las vegas to care for my sweet grandmother. i grew so close to her, and came so close to telling her what was happening at home behind closed doors. my mom knew, and chose to turn her cheek. it’s a lot to process, but i’ve spoken and written these words so many times i feel numb towards it. it still impacts me daily in ways i’m still learning. i’m pretty sure i have borderline personality disorder, though my therapist would only confirm that i have PTSD. i’m close to my mother now, however she still speaks as if there is another world i’m never going to be apart of within her, and i get only tiny bits of love/attention/affection before she returns to it and i don’t exist. my dad cares as much as he can, but with both i just feel this overwhelming sense of “they tried, they can never be what i needed” and that makes me feel like a shitty person, but it simultaneously helps me grow from it.

my failed relationship with dylan is a reminder, maybe the biggest that i need to work with myself to become better. i thought i was in such a better place, but quickly gave back into my kratom addiction and my fear of abandonment ways. allowing his toxic ways of talking down to me, ignoring me as punishment, treating me constantly as if i meant absolutely nothing to roll by and convince myself it was all something wrong with me and if i could simply try more i’d be good enough for him to treat better. i realize fully, i get this from my relationship with my parents. if i just try hard they’ll see me and i’ll be worth being a daughter they want, aside from empty words of “you’re so good!” and then actions that prove they would rather do anything other than be my parent since the get go.

i saw Jonah in fort bragg the other morning the minute i arrived in town convinced i was going to have the absolute best time solo camping in caspar. he was with a girl and sat within feet away from my chair, and once i realized it was him i began shaking to the point i couldn’t even hold my coffee. i hate my adrenaline reaction to situations like this, i’m sure it’s in part from my antidepressant but a big part of me is also still just a scared girl not sure what to do in situations like that. he never said anything during or after, and i’ve decided to let it go to avoid looking like the biggest creep imaginable. since then i’ve crossed most of mendo off of my possible travel destinations, to give us both the freedom of having to encounter such an awkward situation again.

in the last week so much has gone down. i’ve run into nearly everyone i wouldn’t want to run into, or had them reach out. i’m back in a really comfortable uncomfortable spot. i got a promotion at work, made a $20,000 mistake and saved a dog. She was the sweetest dog running in and out of a busy background i was driving on my lunch break, i checked with the only house nearby and they said she wasn’t hers, and when i opened my car door she just ran in and layed in my passenger seat looking up at me with her two differently colored eyes. I started crying becaues i only had minutes before i was supposed to be back at work, knowing it was a very busy day and i couldn’t just leave her in my car, or even have enough time to run home to drop her there while i figure out what to do. i called everyone i could, and the only one who was able to help was dylan. he ignored my phone calls before texting me asking what i wanted, and said he was in the middle of a hair cut but would come get the dog right after. i asked him to take her to my house until i got off work and then i could figure everything out (see if she’s tagged, see if i could find the owner, etc) but instead he took her to the vet and left her there. i cried again when he told me that because i was overwhelmed with the whole situation and was stuck at the office, and had just connected with that dog who could have been killed. i called the VCA he brought her to and they told me their process, so in about two weeks if no one claims her i will be able to go get her. then i found out i’m being sued by old credit card debt. it just really never stops when you just need a fucking break, and sometimes all i can do is laugh and go “what’s fucking next” but then the next thing happens and i’m like OKAYYYY hah :(((((((( and that’s how i get through life sometimes

tonight i’m going to a metal show, i’m waiting to hear back from dylan’s grandma about what i should do in regards to him and my situation, and i hope i just have a good fucking night

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ultrastarbee · 2 years

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I recently just watched fast&furious so what about mikey/draken/izana/ran (or other caracters you are comfortable with) with a ahot s/o who is a racer. We live for the adrenalina author-sama♡♡♡♡♡♡

Hey hey! Hello, welcome to our hive and hope you stay with us! You can call me Bee, babe. I personaly love the thrill of adrenaline and if I weren't so depressed I would sure be a storm chaser. Loved this request! Hope you tag along often!

(Also about the thing you said on the another post, I'm now working on a small Draken serie even though I have a Koko serie going on too)

Title: Speed up honey Request: yees Couple: Mikey x racer!reader, Draken x racer!reader, Izana x racer!reader, Ran x racer!reader Category: Content Warning: Word Count: 933 Summary: (Draken's one is a little different) you are his racer s/o, so your boyfriend decides to show you some support A/N: Thanks to you I figured out I love Izana as well. Thanks for the new brain rot

MASTERLIST ....... RULES ....... SERIES LIST

Mikey:

Mikey doesn't understand why the fuck you would drive a car when you could ride a bike like him. You told him the car's bumper is not your face as it would be if you ride a bike. Again your boyfriend doesn't get it. If you are worried about getting hurt it's simple: don't fall.

"Babe, it's not about my skills, it's about others" you give him a long kiss and the crowd cheers. They love you.

Only when the race starts Mikey understands. If you were riding a bike you would have flied away when the first car closed you against the wall. Mikey's eyes can't get away from your car. His heart speeds up everytime your car does. You are so fucking good on it the first place is yours with a big difference from the second racer.

"I still think bikes are way more cool, but you are even cooler" Mikey smiles holding you close to him while you walk to get your money "next race you will take me with you".

"Sure sweetie, whatever you want, but where is my victory kiss?"

Draken:

Draken was invited to be a runner as well, but he said no. He doesn't even own a car, but the races catch his interest once he saw yours. It's pure black with handmade draws in white ink. He isn't used to bet, but he does anyway. He bets some money on your car and gets mocked by the dealer. It seems you are a new racer around there and no one knows your name.

"Nobody bet on me, but it's their loss" you approached him with a smile.

"Your car is sick"

"Thanks. Painted it myself. Name is Y/n"

"Draken" he shakes your hand. Draken didn't knew the runner would be so hot.

"When I win I may paint a dragon on my car as well" and you blink at him before leaving for the race.

Being a new runner you started at the back, but now you are far in front of the other. No one is a match for you. No car gets even close to yours. You love the thrill of the speed. You love racing, that's why you always win. At the end Draken has a lot of money from all the bets against you. You pull him inside your car laughing.

"If you stay there you will die" still laughing at the mad face of the losers you speed up with Draken by your side "come on, let's eat something".

Izana:

Izana knows this is a good place to make some money and have some fun. You are a new pilot, so the bets are agains you, but Izana knows better. He knows how good you are. He saw it before. Izana knows his lover is the best runner there. Actually it's a little game of yours to make easy money for Tenjiku.

"This one is good, can speed up to more than 200 km/h" you are thrilled by the new car Izana got you. You don't ask how anymore, just goes along with his plans.

"You are good" Izana holds your waist and pulls you closer to him. He is bothered by the other runners eyes on you "win for me again, babe".

"As always" you smile and he kisses you.

Not only a kiss, Izana keeps showing you are his by sucking at your neck until it leaves a reddish mark. You laugh. He is always like that when there's someone looking at you. Can you blame him though? Before the race starts you are sure to give him a mark to match your.

It's even unfair with the other contestants. Your car was made to race. Izana made sure to get the best for you today. He trusts your skills, but he will do anything to help you win. And it's not only for the money you two will get, it's also for the special winner treatment he will give to you later. Of course you won and you won just for him. His smile while leaving the race location is more than happy.

Now you two are riding a bike while the car on flames is left behind. No one can now.

Ran:

Ran didn't knew his s/o was a racer, he even mocked you when you invited him to the next race. He was ready to bet against you just to piss you off, but he saw all the other bets on you. Of course now he will not bet agains you when all those people think you can win. He never saw you race before, but he saw you hit an old man with your car once. But Ran is a good boyfriend, so he bets on you anyway.

And thank god he did.

You don't seem to care about the dangerous shunts you are doing to pass the other racers. Ran holds his breath as you do it again at a bend. He will scold you for that later if he remembers. The adrenaline rush on your body makes you don't give a single fuck about the dangerous driving and that's what make you win.

"The fuck you were doing there?" Ran rushes over to you as soon as you stop the car.

"Winning for my braided princess" you smile proudly at him while pulling his braids to bring him closer for a kiss "how do you plan to celebrate my victory?".

"Don't you wanna know?" he laughs taking you on his arms and throwing you over his shoulder.

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #buckysam #sebastian stan #bucky angst #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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jule1122 · 2 years

Text

Malex Fic - I’m a happy idiot

Trying to write my way out of a slump with some secret marriage fluff. No warnings just lots of love.

I’m a happy idiot on AO3

Summary: 4 times Michael and Alex almost told someone they were married and 2 times they didn't have to.

Title from "Happy Idiot" by TV on the Radio

Michael’s half asleep, boneless and fucked out when he feels Alex’s lips on his forehead.

“See you later, love you,” Alex whispers into his hair.

It’s the smell of coffee that gets him to open his eyes. Michael turns his head and watches Alex set a mug on his nightstand, steam curling in the cool air of their bedroom. He reaches out and barely catches Alex’s hand, their fingertips tucking into each other. “I love you, you should marry me,” he says, thinking about how he wants mornings like this for the rest of his life.

Alex’s eyes widen for a moment, but he steps closer to the bed and smiles. “Ok,” he says as if it’s that easy.

But that’s the thing. It is that easy, has been that easy since Michael kissed him on an empty patio. So he doesn’t ask Alex if he’s sure, just sits up and pulls Alex down on the bed next to him, the adrenaline from the realization that he’s going to marry Alex waking him up. “Call off work while I shower. The courthouse opens,” he squints at the clock, “in an hour.”

“You want to get married today?” Alex asks, laughing.

“Can you think of a reason to wait?” Michael counters. They never really talked about marriage. Michael assumed they would get there eventually, but now that it’s a possibility, Michael’s never wanted anything more.

Alex bites his lip, smile still showing through, and shakes his head.

“I didn’t think so,” Michael pulls him down for a kiss. “Now get moving. The sooner we get married, the sooner we can start our honeymoon.”

Sanders

“I’m guessing by that smile on your face you didn’t call off yesterday because of some alien crisis.”

Michael jumps a foot in the air, hitting his head on the hood of the car he’s working on. “Why do you always do that?” he complains, glaring at Sanders.

“Because it never stops being funny,” Sanders laughs. “You’d think by now you’d have learned to pay attention to your surroundings, makes me wonder just how useful your powers are if a gimpy old man can sneak up on you. Now back to my question. I know you weren’t sick so what was so important I had to tell Ethel Myers her car wasn’t going to be ready for another day?”

“Ethel Myers should have stopped driving five years ago so the extra day was a blessing to everyone on the road,” Michael argues, hoping to distract Sanders.

But Sanders just stands there, arms crossed and foot tapping, waiting for Michael to answer. And shit, he and Alex really should have talked about what they were going to tell people, but they’d been too busy celebrating.

“Alex and I had, uh, stuff to take care of,” he finally mumbles.

“Stuff?” Sanders repeats with a disbelieving snort.

“Yeah, you know, house stuff,” Michael makes a vague gesture with his hands.

“You’d think after a few years your ‘house stuff’ would stop interfering with your work,” Sanders rolls his eyes. “But I guess that explains the limp.”

“Oh my god!” Michael feels his face heat up. “That’s not what I meant!” But before he can come up with a better explanation. Sanders walks away, shaking his head.

Eduardo

When Alex gets to work, he finds a note on his desk asking him to report to the director’s office.

He knocks lightly on Eduardo’s open door. “You wanted to see me?” he asks when Eduardo waves him inside.

“Yes, come sit,” he gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. “I’m glad you are feeling better.”

“Thank you, it was just one of those twenty-four hour bugs,” Alex shrugs, holding Eduardo’s eyes so he doesn’t appear evasive.

“I’m sure you have things to catch up on so I won’t keep you,” Eduardo says with a too bright smile, handing Alex a file and a pen. “But I wanted to handle this in person.”

Alex opens the file and finds a form labeled “Change in Employee Status.” It’s completely filled out except for his signature, listing his status as married with an effective date of yesterday and Michael’s name filled in for spouse. Alex freezes before slowly looking back up at Eduardo. “How?”

“Alex,” Eduardo chides, “we probe the mysteries of the universe. The Roswell Courthouse hardly presents a challenge.”

When Alex doesn't respond, Eduardo sighs and continues. “I have alerts on all my high level operatives’ names and social security numbers in case a mission gets them into trouble. It’s not often, I get good news. And this is very good news. Congratulations to you and Michael.”

“Thank you,” Alex gives Eduardo a genuine smile. He signs the form, but hesitates before handing the folder back. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“I think I’ve proven I can keep a secret as long as necessary,” Eduardo accepts the file back, but then it’s his turn to hesitate. He takes another folder from his desk, weighing it in his hands before giving it to Alex. “I can expedite a name change, if that’s something you are interested in,” he says gently.

Alex just nods and stands up without opening the folder, but he takes it with him as he leaves. It’s something he and Michael didn’t talk about yesterday as they let the joy of being married carry them through the day. But Alex knows what he wants. Once he tells Michael, he’ll let Eduardo handle the logistics while he lets go of the weight of the Manes' name and embraces what it means to be Alexander Guerin.

Isobel

Michael closes his eyes as the credits of Land Before Time start scrolling, Isobel’s hand stroking his hair almost lulling him to sleep. Alex and Kyle both had to work late so Isobel has suggested a movie night for the two of them. It has been an unusual chill evening by Isobel’s standards, and Michael is too relaxed to even consider moving. Maybe he’ll text Alex to come pick him up on his way home.

“Tell me a secret,” Isobel says quietly, surprising Michael into opening his eyes.

He bites his lip to keep from telling her the truth. It’s been a week since he married Alex, and he’s dying to tell someone. But Liz is at a conference in New York and Max went with her, renting a car to drive back so they can have their long delayed road trip. He and Alex agreed it was only fair to wait until they returned to tell everyone so as much as he wants to, he doesn’t confess. “You first,” he says instead.

Isobel’s hand stills in his hair. “I’m pregnant.”

Michael sits up so fast his head spins. Isobel’s eyes are comically wide and her hand is clasped over her mouth. “Iz?”

“I can’t believe I said that! I haven’t even told Kyle yet.”

He looks at her carefully, feeling like this is something he should be able to see. “A baby?” he finally asks.

Isobel nods, her eyes filling with tears.

“That’s. . .,” he shakes his head. “Amazing.”

“Terrifying,” she says at the same time.

“I can’t wait to tell Valenti I knew before he did,” Michael says just to make her laugh.

It works, and she shoves him gently. “Stop it.”

But she still looks a little terrified, so he takes pity on her. “He’s going to be over the moon, you know that.”

“I do,” she nods. “He’s going to be such a great dad.”

“If you say so,” Michael teases with a shrug before pulling her in for a hug. “You’ll be a better mother.”

Isobel squeezes him tightly before pulling back and wiping her eyes. “Do you ever think about how happy we are - Max and Liz, me and Kyle, you and Alex - and get scared.”

“Sometimes,” Michael admits. “I used to worry I didn’t deserve it, all this happiness and love. But Alex does, and my happiness is his happiness. Or at least that’s what he says,” Michael shrugs, struggling to explain it. “My happiness matters to him, he wants me to be happy, does what he can to make me happy. Not letting myself enjoy it, fighting my own happiness started to feel like I was fighting him, rejecting him and that hurt us both. So now I let myself enjoy it. I deserve to be happy and so do you.”

Isobel rests her head on his shoulder, “Thank you.” When she sits back up she looks at his face and laughs. “Love makes you sappy.”

“I know,” Michael smiles.

“You love him so much it’s disgusting. But he loves you just as much so I guess it works.”

Michael thinks of the rings they ordered, the words they choose to have engraved, and his smile widens. “You have no idea.”

Maria

“Mimi seemed really good today,” Alex looks over at Maria as they walk back to her truck.

“She did, didn’t she,” Maria agrees, her smile only a little wistful. “Heath’s treatment seems to be working. I mean I’ll never get her back completely, but at least I’m not losing her anymore.”

“Don’t count Liz out yet,” Alex squeezes her hand. “Now that she and Heath are working together without keeping secrets, a cure is a real possibility.”

“And don’t think I forget how much of a difference Deep Sky’s resources are making in their progress,” Maria swings their joined hands.

“Eduardo is happy to help,” Alex deflects her attempt to credit him easily.

Maria just gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything as they get into the truck, and she heads back to Roswell. After a few minutes, she turns the radio down and glances over quickly at Alex. “Speaking of doing well, are you going to tell me what is making you so happy?”

“What?” Alex feigns innocence.

“Come on, Alex, don’t play dumb. Psychic, remember?” She cuts him off before he can even try and argue. “And before you say anything about cheating, Greg’s noticed too. So what is it?”

“Just had a great day with two of my favorite people, that’s all,” Alex tries to distract her.

“Alex, as much as you love spending time with me and Mimi, we both know it’s more than that. You’re so happy you’re practically glowing. And your aura,” Maria shakes her head. “It’s never looked like this. I love seeing you so happy, I just want to know why.”

The softness in her voice and the kindness in her eyes are too much for him. Alex is just about to tell her the truth when his phone beeps. He looks down quickly, ignoring Maria’s grumbled, “Saved by the bell.”

He finds a text from Michael, “Look what came in the mail!” followed by a string of heart emojis. He can’t hold back a quiet,”Oh” when he opens the attachment and finds a picture of their marriage license. Alex quickly turns off his screen and looks out the window to hide the tears in his eyes.

“Everything ok?” Maria reaches over and takes his hand.

“Yeah,” Alex quickly reassures her. “Michael just needs me to stop at the store on the way home.”

“Alex! You don’t honestly expect me to believe that.”

“Oh look, we’re back.” Alex breathes a sigh of relief when Maria pulls into the Pony’s parking lot, stopping next to his car.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Maria laughs.

“Love you, too,” Alex kisses her cheek before opening the door.

“Hey,” Maria catches his attention as he unlocks his car. “You’ll tell me eventually, but until then, just know I’m happy for you, whatever it is.”

“Thanks,” Alex smiles and blows her another kiss before getting in his car.

Dallas

Michael runs into Dallas at the farmer’s market. He’s walking past one of the floral booths when he spots Dallas with a bouquet of roses in one hand and lilies in the other.

“Hot date?” Michael asks, coming up to stand next to him.

“No,” Dallas startles slightly at Michael’s voice. “I have a wedding this afternoon. Really sweet couple, but they don’t have much money so I thought I would spruce up the chapel.”

“That’s nice,” Michael says neutrally. He never knows how to respond when Dallas mentions his church.

“You know,” Dallas turns away from Michael, flowers still clutched in his hands. “I can perform marriages outside the church too. Backyards, restaurants, even bars.”

“That’s nice,” Michael’s not sure where Dallas is going with this until he follows his line of sight and realizes Dallas is looking at a booth a few aisles away where Alex is contemplating different varieties of honey.

“Thought you might want to know.”

Michael hasn’t looked away from Alex, but he doesn’t have to know Dallas is smiling. As if sensing they are watching him - and knowing Alex he probably does - Alex turns and waves at them. Michael can’t do anything to stop the smile that spreads over his own face as Alex looks between him and Dallas and sends Michael a questioning look when Dallas waves back at him still clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“So weddings,” Dallas clears his throat to regain Michael’s attention. “They are really easy to customize. Some people like to write their own vows, but there are plenty to choose from including a lot that aren’t tied to any religion. In case you were wondering.”

Michael can’t resist one more linger look at Alex before turning back to Dallas. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, squashing the twinge of guilt he feels at lying to him. He and Alex have no intention of having a ceremony, but he can’t really tell Dallas his offer’s too late without explaining why.

“You do that,” Dallas sets the roses down and claps Michael on the shoulder. He looks so happy at the idea of marrying Michael and Alex that he almost confesses, but Dallas turns to the cashier before Michael caves.

“I’ll take the lilies. Leave the roses to the happy couple.”

Michael picks up the bouquet Dallas discarded, “I’ll take these,” he says pulling out his wallet.

“I thought you might,” Dallas looks back over at Alex, eyes twinkling when he catches Michael blushing.

Arturo

Michael and Alex walk hand in hand toward the Crashdown. Max and Liz have finally returned and everyone is meeting for dinner to hear about their trip.

“We should tell them tonight,” Michael says as they approach the diner.

“I don’t know,” Alex wrinkles his nose. “Tonight is supposed to be about Max and Liz. Let’s wait until our rings are ready and see who notices first.”

“I love you,” Michael laughs at the idea of letting everyone figure it out for themselves. “My money’s on Liz.”

“I vote Rosa,” Alex disagrees before kissing Michael just as they reach the door.

“Guess we both lose,” Michael says when they walk in and come to an immediate standstill.

“Surprise!” Everyone yells as Michael and Alex stare at the large banner hung over the counter. “Congratulations Alex and Michael” is written in script and framed by wedding bells on each side.

“Who did you tell?” Alex whispers to Michael.

“No one,” Michael assures him. “You?”

Alex shakes his head, but his eyes slide to Eduardo who holds his hands up in innocence. “I promised I would keep it a secret. I had nothing to do with this.”

Michael looks over at Isobel and narrows his eyes, “Iz, did you break into my head.”

“No, I did not,” Isobel protests. “We were all just as surprised as you when we saw this. Well, more surprised since we didn’t even know you were married.”

“Someone ordered that,” Michael argues, pointing at the banner.

“You know,” Arturo steps out from behind the counter, “The Roswell Daily Record publishes vital statistics. Births, deaths, marriages. Reading the paper with a cup of coffee is the perfect way to relax after the morning rush.” He holds up a newspaper, smiling triumphantly and pointing to the entry he circled in red listing the date of their marriage.

“Given away by a newspaper, who would have thought,” Alex looks over at Michael and they both start laughing.

Before they can say anything else, everyone rushes forward and they are engulfed in a massive group hug, congratulations and questions coming from all directions. Even in the chaos, their hands remain clasped and.they smile into a kiss as the celebration begins around them.

#malex fic #rnm fic #my fic #established relationship #secret marriage #background kysobel #maria deluca friendly #arturo for the win #fluff

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introloves · 3 years

Text

— werewolf! bokuto + a/b/o + hunter / prey dynamic + knotting + ruts + slight dubcon + hurt/comfort + slight angst + fear + breeding + possessive! bokuto + overstimulation + human! & f! reader

— word count; 1.5k

he kept you warm against the harsh and bitter air from outside, chilling the apartment you both shared.

curling into his warm side, you felt the sleepy, lulled into a nice haze. but it seemed that in finding warmth and comfort, you missed the goosebumps forming against his skin, right against the places your body met his.

he should have been more careful, should have read the signs signaling the oncoming heat.

but he decided that spending time with you this close to the new moon was more worth it, he could hold himself back, contain the fever prickling under his skin.

it was stupid, in trying to prove that he could temper down the other side of him, regain hold of his humanity, he was signing a death wish.

“you okay kou?” you mumbled, sitting up against his squirming body.

the moment he felt you leave his side, he snapped up to grab you, clamping an arm around your upper arm.

he was hot, running at a temperature far too warm to be okay. it made you shake in worry for him, if he was sick he needed to get to the hospital, needed help! he needed-

“i’m so sorry.” he whimpered, or growled, you couldnt tell with the deep rumble that followed a high keen, coming straight from the center of his chest.

it took him no effort, no strength to tug you onto his lap, opening your legs to sit you comfortably over his hips.

he pressed his heated body closer, satiated at how good your smell encompassed him like this. pure instinct driving him to nuzzle in close to your pulse point, laving over it with his tongue, trying to get that sweet smell even stronger.

“sorry? for what...” you whispered, he seemed to be inching closer and closer to a higher heat, but his hands, arms closing down around your body made your head spin. in a finally attempt to reagain any control you uttered out a, “bo- stop we need to get you to the hospital you’re really hot.”

but the way you pushed, futilely, against his chest didnt sit well with him.

it was a lowly growl that made you stop, the sinking of something sharp- right where his hands gripped at your sides made you shut your mouth completely.

“you know there’s something different about me.” he began, words dripping down the side of your neck.

“but you still love me regardless.”

it was all so confusing, you’d never heard him sound like this, didnt think anyone human could produce a tremor this animalistic to their voice.

you’d never been held like this by him, he seemed to be moving, driven with pure adrenaline. shaky hands gripped at the giving flesh, leaving remnants of his heat. anywhere that there was fat, his fingers dug in tight.

“you love me-“ he choked out, his voice returning to his normal tone, tinted by an urgency.

“y/n,” he spat, crazed and rushed. “you need to run. go and lock yourself in the room. dont let me in, under any circumstances.” it wasnt going to be enough to stop him if he tried, but the growing need to do something to keep you safe overruled any other logical thinking.

he pushed you off, planting you on the floor in a hurry, stretching to his full stature, looming over you with a gaze that read; hungry.

you didnt think as you complied with his words, confused at it all. you just wanted to know what happened to your bokuto but with the way everything unfolded before you, there was truly no explanation.

as your feet pounded down the hall, the thought that you were being stalked- being chased after like a little rabbit crossed your mind briefly.

it made your legs move faster, the sound of something big, the sound of bokuto running behind you met your ears. the door of your shared room right against your fingertips.

you almost made it, the thrill of escaping let a laugh bubble in your throat. all before the floor was knocked from under your feet.

bokuto grabbed you before you crumbled down into the floor, planting your face, roughly, under the hallway carpet.

“not fast enough bunny.” he laughed.

“bokuto, whats going on, whats wrong.” you whimpered, but he wasnt listening, couldnt listen to the streams of questions leaving your mouth. all he could focus on was the growing saccharine scent wafting up from your cunt, peaking out from between your thighs. it wasn’t enough, he knew how good you could smell, at the peak of it, when he fucked you nice and hard, you smelled so divine. but it was all tainted by the sickly notes of pure fear, it wouldn’t do, he couldn’t have you smelling like that.

“its okay, i wouldn’t hurt you. have i ever hurt you?” he questioned, all the while sinking down to press his nose right to your cunt.

“n-no. you’ve never h-hurt me.” you bit back a moan when he licked over your cunt, tongue digging into the spot he knew your clit would be.

just like that he had you receptive, willing to do anything, because he was so good to you.

he let you go briefly, all to rip every peice of clothing you and him had on. once again the thought that something was wrong crossed your mind with how easy it was for him.

with clenched teeth, he wrapped his fingers around himself. letting muscle memory guide the tip of himself right into you.

spurred on by a desperate moan leaving your mouth, his name hanging off the tip of your tongue.

it was all okay, he’d fucked you so many times, this was no different?

right?

the sickly scent twisted its notes, entangling itself in your sweetness.

“its okay, my bunny. its all okay. ill fuck you good, like i always do.”

to prove it, he sinks in completely.

but he was overrun with you, completely taken over a need to have you.

throwing his head back, howling into the air, he took you with a punishing pace.

there was no noise that could leave your mouth, the familiar feeling of an orgasm looming in the distance made you melt against his hips.

strong hands holding you steady, growling with the obscene sounds your pussy made. he was going to pump you fulll, make you heavy with all the cum that he was going to give you, fucking you raw. if he was lucky, his cum would stick, breeding you like a good mate.

“you take me so good. you like it dont you?” there was no answer you could give him that would change his mind, he could smell it on you. sweat dripping down your back, pooling at the heat of his hands against your soft sides, it couldnt be more obvious.

“koutarou.” you gasped, shaking at the orgasm that finally graced your body.

it was all a reaction to you, he couldnt help the way your cunt squeezed him this tight. with a final push inside, knocking you down flat to the floor, knees shaking,

it began.

your chest burned as you took in a sharp lungful of air. his dick seemed to inflate, right at the base of your pussy, locking him tightly inside. at the peak of the swelling, his hips stuttered, bringing you along while thick ropes of cum stuffed you. pulling the stretched skin of you around his swollen dick.

“w-wh-! bo, bo it hurts!” you squealed, kicking, trying to get away. frenzied with fear, scared that he was going to rip something.

but he held you, warm hand placing right at the base of your tummy, trying to sooth your fear and shaking. he bent in close, begging for forgiveness of it all.

“i know it hurts, i’m so sorry.” he whimpered, tongue heavy with pleasure and guilt.

all fucked out and spent, you laid there, tears streaming down your face, you couldnt feel anything anymore.

it felt like it took forever for the swelling to calm down, but once it did, he quickly scrambled off you.

“angel.” he whispered, flipping you over, searching for your gaze. a sharp pang hit his gut at the sight of your wet eyes, and trembling lower lips.

“oh my baby, i’m so sorry.” he all but cried, there was already a hate, rooted deep into his being at the way he was, driven by an animal he couldnt control. after this, if you wanted him gone, he was more than willing to pack it all up to keep you safe.

your hand, trembling and sweaty, wrapped around the hand holding your face tenderly. finally he was back, there was the man that kissed you gently every morning.

“kou.” you wheezed, smiling at him.

it took a lot of effort, but you smiled.

“n-next time. you gotta prep me first.”

his eyes flittered down from your face, distracted by the clenching of your pussy, leaking everything he had worked so hard to pump you full with, smearing it down your thighs, pussy lips, and carpet.

his jaw clenched at the challenge, laughing at the thought that you’d be so weak, of course you were strong enough to take him.

you were his mate after all.

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