#i'm nearing the end of bullets now

[mieux-de-se-taire]

Early Sunsets over Monroeville - MCR Interviews

89.5 WSOU FM Interview - 7/11/02

14:12-15:33, 20:21-20:32, 21:20-21:28, 21:47-21:51

Interviewer: Do you think that added to the performance, that you had to actually get through the pain? Gerard: For Early Sunsets Over Monroeville, definitely. I was in-- It was like, I don’t know like 10-- 9:30 at night. We were just getting ready-- It was the last song we did for the day, and I was in so much pain. And I just-- you know Geoffy [Geoff Rickly] was like, “Alright, let her rip.” Interviewer: That’s the mellow song, right? Ray: Right, that’s the-- what’s awesome about that too is the last, I think it’s like the last 3 minutes of that song is just one take, no edits, no stops, no cuts. It’s just...It’s an amazing performance by-- by him and just by all of us, I think because we-- we wrote that song like a few days before we went into the studio. It wasn’t finished when we recorded it, so it was just us, you know, kinda letting all of us [unintelligible], you know? Interviewer: (Overlapping) It was your studio song. Ray: Right, we wrote it in the studio. Interviewer: Well since we’re hyping this up so much... (Ray laughs) We might as well play it ‘cause everyone out there’s going “Wow, sounds like a great song.” Ray: Hopefully Interviewer: “I wanna hear him crying.” (Ray and Gerard laugh) “I wanna hear that tooth.” (Continued laughter) So, I guess let’s go into a little bit background of the song, and then we’ll play the song for everybody, and everyone can hear. Gerard: Okay, Mikey does not want me to reveal-- Interviewer: He’s going “No! You’re out!” Gerard: (Overlapping) what the song is about, but if you-- there’s plenty of clues in it, so if you figure out, it’s-- I’ll say it’s about a film. Is that enough? Ray: Yeah, that’s good. Gerard: Okay, you can figure out-- Ray: (Interrupting) Horror film Gerard: Alright. (Pauses then laughs) You messed it up! (Arguing in background)

Interviewer: What are some of your favorite songs off this record to play live and actually-- or during the recording process? Ray: Um, I think recording process-wise, definitely “Monroeville.”

Frank: (Talking about his favorite songs) And “Monroeville” because I had no clue what I was gonna do. (Interviewer laughs) I wrote it in the van before we recorded, and I had like frostbite on my fingers so it kinda sucked.

Mikey: I like the “Monroeville” song. (To Gerard) It was fun watching you tweak out at the end. (Gerard laughs)

/

Noise Theory Interview - 11/13/02

Page 1, paragraph 5

Interviewer: Even though ‘My Chemical Romance’ as a band have been together only a short time, the album displays some excellent and mature song writing skills. Were the album songs written after the band became complete? Ray: We started in October 2001, and had written 5 songs by January 2002. This was when the band was still a four piece. The rest of the songs came together a few weeks before we went to record. Honey This Mirror and Early Sunsets were written about a week before we left for the studio. We asked Frank to be in the band around the same time, so to get his input on those songs really helped them become what they are.

/

HardcoreNJ Interview - March/April 2003

Paragraph 3

Interviewer: What was the inspiration behind "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville"? Matt: Musically there wasn't any inspiration, 2 days before the recording I happened to be strumming an acoustic guitar in our practice space, and the guys all seemed to like what I was playing (which is a rarity). Anyways, we knew we wanted something different on the record to reflect our softer side. I think it was the most magical part of recording process, seeing a 2 day old song kinda just work, we didn't even have an ending for it. We all just jammed it out improvising. Oh, and the vocals were inspired by a certain movie...

/

89.5 WSOU FM Interview - 7/3/03

8:25-8:31, 8:59-10:27

Interviewer: Alright, so, we’re gonna hear “Monroeville.” Ray: It’s a slow one. Grab your girl...and then shoot her in the head. (Laughter)

Interviewer: I remember a long time ago when you were recording this record that you had a problem while you were singing this song. Gerard: Yeah, I had a hole in my tooth and an abscess in the hole, and it was pushing against all the nerves in my face, and it looked like I had Parkinson’s, and it was (a?) drag, and it-- Interviewer: And your face was droopy, and-- Gerard: It was drooping, and I looked like a-- I went to hospitals the whole time we were recording, and they thought I had facial nerve paralysis, nerve damage, so I had to do that song, like basically with, yeah like the most intense pain and half a face. (Dramatically) Half a face! Interviewer: So, alright, everyone listening out there, now you know he did this song with half a face. Gerard: (After a pause) Half a face. (Laughter) Interviewer: How did you feel about the song after you played it? I know you must have been like, you know, “This can’t be the best I can do” because you’re all messed up and stuff. (Ray protesting in background) Gerard: It felt like that, but (Unintelligible as Gerard and interviewer talk at the same time) when I was doing it, but everybody was so psyched on it when I did it-- Ray: Psyched! People were crying-- Gerard: They were crying man (Laughter) Ray: It was amazing. It was the most amazing, definitely the most amazing-- Matt: (Overlapping) Yeah, we were definitely a bunch of wusses. Frank: Alright, correction, not a bunch of wusses. Ray and Otter (Matt) cried. (Laughter) That’s what happened. Ray: No no no, I will definitely say I-- Mikey: The red sea might have been parted when my brother did that part. Ray: I cried. I think Alex [Saavedra] might have shed a singular tear. Interviewer: A singular tear? Ray: It was definitely some crying going on. (Matt talking in background) Gerard: (Overlapping) I got a hug after that one Ray: (Overlapping) It was bad. Gerard: (Overlapping) I got a hug. I got lots of hugs after that. Interviewer: (After a pause and laughter) Alright, so how’d you feel about the hugs afterwards? Gerard: The hugs were sweet. (Laughter in background) The record was sweeter.

/

Punk It Interview - 10/29/03

Paragraph 28

Sev (Interviewer): What are some of the biggest disagreements amongst yourselves? Gerard: We mesh really well musically and personally. We all have a good time, so there's probably not that many disagreements. The only thing I think we ever disagree upon is if we're going to play "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville" or not. We had a little thing tonight. Some guys wanted to play it tonight, but I'm not sure. It's an ad lib song - the first verse was written, but the last part of the song was freestyle. And I'm not fucking Eminem, so unless the vibe is right, I don't like to do it. I did it in Chicago because the vibe was perfect. It basically happens in the middle of the set. We feel the energy, and if they can deal with it, we can deal with it.

/

Life On the Murder Scene - 2005

31:24-32:01

Ray: And Frank played on 2 of the tracks off the first record, and one of them was “Early Sunsets Over Monroeville.” (“Early Sunsets” begins to play) Ray: He just plays some great, great parts. Frank: (Cuts to different interview) When we were doing “Monroeville”, Ray was laying down his parts, and as soon as he was done, I took the parts that they had recorded into a van, that had like no heat, outside the studio and wrote what I was gonna play. Ray: (Back to first interview) A lot of the melody that he plays during the verses and the choruses is just, you know, absolutely beautiful, and I think really makes those songs work.

/

Barcelona Live Stream - 3/5/11

6:10-6:34

Ray: (Reading a live chat feed) Ooh, would you ever play “Early Sunsets”? Frank: Oh, we have (turns to Ray while Mikey speaks in the background) this tour? I don’t know. Ray: I can’t even remember the last we played that. Frank: I think it was in Chicago. Ray: Yeah? Mikey: (After a pause) Oh yeah, we played it in the Metro. Gerard: (Unintelligible as multiple people speak) like “The End”? Frank: Yeah Ray: That would be a cool one to revisit. Gerard: It was a cool-- I think especially if we give it some structure at the end like, ‘cause that was the problem with playing that song. It has no definitive ending, like it kinda just keeps going and going.

/

Kerrang #1376 (alt) - 8/10/11

Page 3, paragraph 11

Interviewer: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love” was released in July 2002. What do you think of it now? Ray: You can hear the nervousness and excitement. Every song speeds up which gives them a lot of character. I like the rawness, especially in the vocals. It sounds very true. I get emotional, too. Early Sunsets Over Monroeville is unlike anything we’ve ever done since -- it’s amazing.

/

Where Are Your Boys Tonight? (Chris Payne) - 2020-2022

Chapter 9, page 113

Geoff Rickly: When we were in the studio, Gerard’s wisdom teeth were really hurting him, and he wasn’t able to sing, so he went to the dentist to have them out and afterwards they gave him a bunch of painkillers. He didn’t sing with the fire or the venom, so Alex took the painkillers away from him. Like, “You gotta sing in pain, fuck you! You gotta feel it!” I was taking the painkillers, watching him sing the record. I remember lying on the floor and coaching him through how to sing “Early Sunsets Over Monroeville,” the ballad on the record. I was saying, “You’re following the music, make the music follow you. More intense! The music will catch up to you.”

#mcr #my chemical romance #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #bullets #early sunsets over monroeville #interviews #song interviews #i didn't mean for this one to take this long #whoops! #i'm nearing the end of bullets now #so hopefully i can get the next few done quickly #but i'm so happy to have finished this! #early sunsets is my favorite song #so it's just super interesting to see what they say about it #sorry if anything is wrong or missing for the video transcriptions! #sometimes it's so hard to tell what they're saying #especially mikey

[mockerycrow]

Love your works! May I please get a "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere." with Ghost? Take your time, I love what you write!

400 Follower Celebration

—“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— With Ghost

Summary: You’re apart of the 141 and Ghost recently had a near-death experience. You’ve been plagued with nightmares about the situation, but you try to hide it from him, feeling selfish about your night terrors. One night, you’re thoroughly convinced Ghost had actually died.

A/N: THANK YOUUU I KEEP BLUSHING ILY AND TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS

[WARNINGS: vomit, detailed nightmares, panic attack, gore, fake-death, angst, hurt/comfort.]

It was always the same nightmare. It was a repeat of that one mission months ago—nearly a year ago by now, where you and your team went to grab some important intel about a new uprising cartel that was showing some dangerous potential. It was a large compound, four floors including the basement, wide rooms with many blind-spots. Using your rifle equipped with a heat signature sensor, you swept room to room, leading your team through the building, putting anyone down who dared fired a bullet at you or your team.

You turn that familiar corner and your heart sinks. You’ve tried many times to change the course of this dream, but no matter how frantically you try to scream about what is waiting on the other side of that door, your mouth refuses to work until Ghost rumbles out, “I’ll take point.” You try to fight every muscle in your body to stop this, but it’s like the dream freezes until you continue down the.. “right path”. Quite literally is a living fucking hell for you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it except do what it wants you to do.

“Roger.” You mutter, backing up behind Ghost instead of staying in front of him and leading him the others. The others are always blank faced soldiers in this nightmare, but you know who is who. You pat his shoulder, aimming over him as you walk down the hall close together, hugging the wall. You’ve been through this so many times, you know to eye the floor and you watch the moment happen—Ghost steps on a pressure plate and—BOOM.

You’re always forced to watch it in slow motion; the wall being blown open right next to Ghost, watching the debris scatter everywhere, scraping yourself up as well as Ghost. He raises his arm to shield his face from whatever is happening, unable to process in time that a man wielding a sharp combat knife is pulling his arm back and comes down with it.

You watch the way the knife so easily slides into his rib cage, and it’s almost like you could hear it penetrating his lung like it did—but this time, the man rips the knife out and does it again and again and again—this has never happened before—Ghost’s falling to the ground, his blood splattering everywhere, fuck, it’s like the guy is trying to gut him—but you can’t move. You have to sit there and watch this man. plunge a knife in and out of Ghost’s chest until he finally decides to stab him deep and yank downwards, spilling his intestines and stomach—yet, his lifeless eyes keep eye contact the entire time.

Your eyes fly open, dizzy from your heart pounding and unable to focus, you throw the blanket off of you and you make your way out of whatever room you’re in—you’re too freaked out to know. Your chest aches and feels like there’s a hundred tons sitting on your rib cage, restricting your breathing. You keep walking until you bump into something and you manage to focus enough to notice it’s the bathroom door. Your hand shakily grabs the doorknob and opens it, and you already feel the vomit traveling up your throat.

You end up bent over the open toilet, body heaving with every exile of the contents of your stomach, which by this time of night is mostly just bile. Your head is spinning and your hands keep shaking and by this point, you really don’t care how clean this bathroom is. You lean your elbows on the toilet rim and hold your head in your hands, trying your best to stifle a sob, even though all you can smell and feel is his blood on your fingertips. Your tears drip down your cheeks and collect at your chin before dripping off.

You keep one arm on the toilet seat to keep your head propped up and the other goes around your stomach, which is twisting painfully inside of your gut, ripping another sob from you. You gag into the toilet, but you’ve already thrown everything you had inside. Your throat and nose burns from the stomach acid, but it doesn’t compare to the emotional pain of losing Ghost. You just stood there and watched him get gutted—why do you deserve to grieve when you could have prevented it in the first place? Someone killed the Ghost, and you let it fucking happen.

A large hand sprawls across the flat of your back which is accompanied by a low, gritty voice. Whoever it is says something, but you don’t quite hear them. It’s probably Price, trying to comfort you, trying to say there’s one thing you could’ve done to stop it, but you know there was something you could do, anything you could’ve done.

Price calls your name and you go to shove him away, but his hands wrap around your wrists, and the voice is more insistent. You choke on a sob and shake your head, struggling against him until you hear it—his voice. “Fuck, [Name], can you hear me?” Ghost’s voice. It’s his voice.

No. Your mind is playing tricks on you and you won’t fall for it, you won’t let yourself go through this horrendous grief for a second time. You try to curl up into a ball, wanting to grab at your hair or your clothes, just anything but be here. “Look at me.” His hands grab your face and force your face to look at him and..

It’s him. It’s Ghost.

All of your noises stop for a moment as you stare with wide eyes that are full of unfallen tears, eyes full of grief, all for him. Ghost stares back at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes, and you can see the way his hands are slightly trembling—he’s worried about you. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow when he sees your expression of anguish. “Hey—hey, what happened?” Ghost’s voice is so quiet, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks any louder. Your hands come up to his mask and touch it and you burst into a harsh sob again, throwing your arms around him.

Usually, Ghost would hesitate. He would be reluctant to reciprocate such personal touch, such desperation, but he pulls you close into his arms without a second thought. Your hands grab his shirt and you breakdown into his chest, wetting the fabric with your tears. His heart slipped a beat because he’s never seen you like this—has never seen you break down this horribly.

He’d be here when you were ready to talk about it, but for now he’ll stay to hold you until your shoulders stop shaking. Ghost moves to sit on his bottom and you whimper in fear, like he’ll leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

#call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #mw2 2022 #mw2022 #modern warfare ii #cod #mw2 fanfic #mwii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #ghost x gn!reader #gender neutral language #angst #hurt/comfort #nightmare trope #crow’s 400 follower celebration #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare #modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare two #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw ghost #mw2 #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley

[hypewinter]

Jason had been sitting in his living room, maintenancing his weapons when a circle appeared before him. It was big and swirling. It's hue very much akin to the sickening green of the Lazarus pits. He quickly realized the circle was in fact a portal as a teen stepped out of it. The teen wore surgical gloves and a mask over what appeared to be a hazmat suit. His hair was silver and seemed unaffected by gravity. Worse of all though, were his eyes that were that same damn color that Jason had long since grown to hate.

Jason grabbed two guns that were not currently taken apart and aimed them at the boy, taking a menacing step forward as he did so. "Who are you?" he growled. "What do you want?"

To his surprise, the boy didn't threaten him or gloat about some massive plan already under way. He didn't even offer some sort of vague, cryptic advice. Instead, the teen actually took a step back, covering his nose with one arm while putting the other up in surrender.

"Don't come any close!" he yelped. "The stench is already bad enough from here."

Jason blinked. What? "Excuse me?" was all he could utter.

The boy turned away slightly and dry heaved. "Ugh, so nasty."

Jason was having trouble figuring out what was going on. Even with his detective training. "Did you- did you just call me nasty?" he finally managed to splutter out.

The boy turned back to him, his eyes crinkling in utter disgust. "Uh, yeah. What else would you call a flea infested rat?"

"Flea infested-" Jason squawked.

"Listen could you just come with me so that we can get all of that taken care of asap," the boy said, gesturing towards Jason.

Regaining his composure a little, Jason tightened his grip on his weapons. "Hell no! I'm not going anywhere with you until you start explaining."

Despite having two guns pointed at his head, the teen only let out a deep sigh.

"Fine, have it your way." He replied, stepping towards Jason. The vigilante heard the kid mumbling, "You can do this. Think of it as handling a stinky baby. A very disease infested stinky baby," as he got closer and closer.

Jason fired off a warning shot next to the kid but the boy didn't even flinch. Fine, Jason thought. We can do this the hard way. He aimed at the boy's knee cap and fired. Only for the bullet to pass right through him. The boy neared him before picking him up like an unruly kitten. Jason went limp as he officially stopped processing what was happening. How the hell had this kid managed to lift him so effortlessly?

He didn't put up a fight as the boy turned around and led them both back through the portal, his arms outstretched as far away from his torso as possible. Jason's mind had just barely started to process information again when this weird furry, horned creature appeared in front of him.

"Ah Great One! You've returned," it said.

"Yeah yeah just hurry up and take this from me before I throw up!" the teen replied, setting Jason down and distancing himself.

The creature fixed the boy with a stern look. "That is not how we treat patients, Great One. Need I remind you? It was you who wanted to be my apprentice and all that entails. That includes treating our patients with the utmost professionalism. Regardless of your personal feelings."

The teen actually had the nerve to look sheepish, maybe even a little guilty. As if he hadn't just spent the last 5 minutes mercilessly insulting Jason.

The two continued talking for a time and Jason was more than happy to let them. It gave him time to process what the hell he was looking at and with any luck, they would let slip some crucial information. Instead however, they ended up discussing more about whatever this apprenticeship was before the weird looking creature turned back towards Jason.

"Apologies for the rudeness my apprentice has shown you," he said.

Jason muttered out an 'uh huh' in response.

The creature clapped his hands. "Now then, shall we get you examined?"

Examined? Jason staring blankly at the creature. Then he stared at the teen, hoping to gleam any info from their facial expressions. Nothing. And of course he did have his comms or his sos signal on him. Great, just great. What an absolutely craptastic situation he found himself in. He'd be sure to come back and haunt Bruce this time. Maybe even Dick. He swore that much.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales

[pseudowho]

As usual, I have no one to talk about this but... Have you seen those "mom instincts are cool, but let's talk about dad reflexes for a sec" vids???

Kento with dad reflexes? (Pretty sure he already has it when he's single or even in canon when Yuji is accompanying him in missions lmao)

I'm just in my bed giggling, kicking my feet because I can imagine him having those like when his baby girl would trip and he moves so FAST to catch her 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 man idk where I'm going with this it's just making me go skkdkddkdjd

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The footsteps were slow, slick, echoing-- considered. At this stage, Kento didn't know if he and Yuuji were being hunted, or if they were the hunters. He suspected both.

The mansion fell apart around them, broken pipes lazily spewing sewage and muck. Kento felt the softly yielding floorboards beneath his feet, aware that if he wasn't careful, the second floor would very quickly become the first floor and--

"Oi, Nanamin!" Bounding, youthful footsteps hopped up beside Kento, who felt and heard the repercussions up the walls, the crack in the floorboards, the imminent collapse--

With the barest flash of movement, the floor beneath Yuuji's feet was missing, and Yuuji hung by his collar in Kento's iron grip, slowly rotating in the air as floorboards rumbled away with distant clatters. Otherwise, silence. A mildly dismayed hum from Kento, as he twizzled his blade in his other hand.

"Wow, Nanamin! Good refle--"

"Please make sure I do not have to use them, Itadori-kun."

"Ah...yeah."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Curse-killing on a moving Subway train in the middle of the night wasn't the sort of overtime Kento needed...but when he heard the mission had been given to you, and you alone, he felt a sickening twist of anxiety in his gut. Not that you knew how he felt.

Kento bridled with incandescent rage, seeing you tumble down the rattling carriage, pinballing between poles and seats. Your fatal blow to this filthy Curse was not fatal quickly enough.

"Come on! It's dead, time to--" Kento's call was cut short, sensing imminent disaster as you kicked the door through on the opposite end of the carriage, and the Curse staggered into the walls, making the carriage list sideways, making you list sideways at the open door in your bullet-shot speed through this gloomy tunnel--

All at once, you felt yourself falling from the moving train, rolling and tumbling but wrapped up in something so warm that smelled so good.

You rolled to a stop, still full-body bear-hugged by Kento. You lay under him for a moment, face to chest through the torn off buttons of his shirt. He unfolded you with a soft sigh, hands and knees planted either side of your head and hips.

"Wow, Kento. Good refle--"

"Dinner, I--...we should go out for dinner."

"Oh. Like...now?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Daddy, watch this--"

One little blonde girl, suspended and giggling upside down, caught. Kento, sighing, holding her by her ankle by the tree she was almost certainly too small to climb.

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

"Jump, jump, jump, jump, ju--"

A full-suited barrel-roll across the living room, a near-miss with a tiny head and a coffee table corner. The boy peered sheepishly up at his daddy, whose narrow brown eyes glowered down in silent disapproval.

"Daddy, I was jumpi--"

"Hush. Be more careful."

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

"I'll race you--"

"No, I'm winning I'M WINNING I'M---"

A flash of movement. One little boy and one little girl, hunched over and suspended by the backs of their jeans, spinning and surprised.

Kento grunted once, loaded down with shopping bags, hooking the boot of the car up with one foot, his keys between his teeth. He spat his keys onto the seat.

A truck barrelled past, its driver certainly not looking for little people. Kento grunted again, dropping children and shopping bags.

"Do not-- I repeat, do not run in the car park."

"...sorry daddy."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You reached out towards Kento, seeing something glimmer in the honey-blond of his hair. His hand snapped up, grasping yours reflexively round the wrist. He let go immediately, apologetic.

"Sorry, I--...rough day with the kids." You smiled, stroking his cheek, and he leaned into your soft palm, planting a kiss there. Your gaze wandered to his hair again. Kento raised an eyebrow at you.

"What?"

"You've, uhm...got a grey hair."

Silence. A moderately dismayed hum.

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I agree. Nanami Kento has dad reflexes.

-- Haitch xxx

#pseudowho answers you #Dad reflexes #nanami x #kento nanami #nanami headcanons #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #jujustu kaisen #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x you #papamin au #papamin #itadori yuji

[angelltheninth]

Hey! Love youre work, wondering if you could a scenario with Ghost where reader and him a stuck somewhere tight and it gets spicy 👀👀

Taking advantage of small, tight spaces, in both ways.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, grinding, quickie, coming in pants, stuck together, kissing, size difference, Reader being pinned

A/N: Small space, big guy, great combination.

Nothing ever went wrong on your missions with Simon, and you wouldn't call your current predicament bad, just very awkward

Being on top of him, in a small, almost box-like hiding space that you barely found in the abandoned hideout wasn't the most ideal, but it was the only place you could hide in

"Little tight in here isn't it? Good thing you didn't get in first, I'd hate to crush you." He can barely move too, he can raise his head and bend his knees a little but neither of you can properly stretch your legs

Simon doesn't have his nightvision gear on right now so he can't see your flustered face, thank good, but you're sure he can feel your heart drumming in your chest

You try to move a little to get some of your weight off him, but as you do you end up pressing down on his dick, feeling it twitch in his pants, "You can't put me in a small, cramped space with a cute girl like you and expect me not to have this reaction. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable but it should go away as long as you stay still." He huffed out a half-laugh, half-groan when you moved again, "You're... stop. You're gonna it even..." You roll your hips again, "You little brat." His gloved hand smack your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh under his fingers

He can't smack you too much because you might get heard, "It's a nice sound though. Maybe some other time." Definitely some other time

The more you move the harder his erection gets to ignore

You're cursing against his neck, breathing faster and faster while he massages your tender ass and guides your hips at the same time

Some of the gear is still in the way but you can feel the muscles of his arms and legs against you, as well as the imprint of his cock against your clothed pussy

It feels hot, but this friction isn't enough to get you off, you need more, "But you can't stay quiet. Imagine if the enemy were to find us while you're in the middle of riding my cock. I think I'd die before the bullets hit." Despite that he's chuckling against your neck, "There is a way we can actually do this. Lift my mask up a little, it's okay."

You never imagined Simon's lips to be so soft, or his tongue so skilled

That and the fact that his cock already felt so big despite the clothing in the way had your imagination reeling

"You like how big I am compared to you. With your body being... well on the shorter side I must confess that I've been scared to get rough with you during training." Simon's lips brushed against your neck, his hips thrusting upwards as much as the small space enabled him, which wasn't much, but enough to get you close

Just a little more, "I wonder if you can even take my dick. Might be too big for you." You shook your head, rocking your hips back and forth in tandem with his, "So enthusiastic about being split open. Love me a good, little size queen slut. Who knew there was one in my squad?" Simon cut off your moan with his lips right as you began to near your climax

His hips stilled against yours, pinned down under yours actually while his cock pulsed in his pants, staining their front

He held you against his chest, trying to calm his breathing in this small space

Both of you stiffened when you heard footsteps approaching, all the adrenaline of your little encounter washed away, they got closer, closer, closer... "Oh, hey John! It's just you! You'll never guess what I found out about our new teammate."

#cod x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x female reader #simon ghost x reader #cod imagine #cod headcanons #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 imagine #mw2 headcanons #mw2 smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty imagine #call of duty headcanons

[thelargefrye]

ATEEZ AS MIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHERS ... bullet - point fic ( 17+ )

pairing : teacher!ateez x teacher!f!reader (separately)

genre : teacher au, fluff, comedy, workplace romance, bulletpoint headcanons, implied co-workers to lovers (for all of them), secret relationships (for a lot of them)

word count : 4.1k

warnings : middle schoolers (yes this is needed), mentions of students shipping their teachers, mentions of a past make-out from college (mingi's section)

note : inspired by these prompts and my own job lol

honorary tag : @sanjoongie

what i think it would be like working with ateez in a middle school and perhaps being something more than co-workers with them.

KIM HONGJOONG

he's a math teacher – seventh grade and also head of the math department at the school

when he's teaching, he's in his element and he's very passionate about teaching his student and the content

he was terrible at math when he was a student and often tells his own students in order to motivate them...

sometimes it works but most times it doesn't

he's definitely one of the more stricter teachers at the beginning of the year, but lets up near the end of the year

students love him, like there's not one kid who hates him

some students do wonder how he manages to get away with his funky hair colors, but no one really questions it anymore

he's also very stylish and is known for his fashionable looks that make him look like he just came off the runway

the two of you met when you started teaching at the same school, he's been teaching for two years longer than you have

you also teach seventh grade and immediately clicked as friends on your first day

he answers any questions you have that isn't content related and is kind of seen as the head of the seventh grade as well

he gets along well with the older teachers who have been doing this for 20+ years, those teachers either go to you or him when they need help with the new programs that admin is making them use in class

a lot of the students ask him if you two are dating because you're the younger teachers in the grade-level and are always hanging out

"dating? why are you worried about who i'm dating? we have equations to worry about," he would say and always brush them off

most of the students drop, not really wanting to make hongjoong upset but that doesn't mean the question won't come up again later on

your students will also ask you the same question and like hongjoong, you brush them off and not really answering them

the students would often go back and forth on if you two were dating or not with some even trying to provide "evidence" that you were dating

and some students gave up on thinking that their literature and math teacher were dating

until one day you showed up to school wearing a cardigan

and not just any cardigan

a cardigan that hongjoong wore a month ago, one that students knew was custom made by their teacher himself

and the whole seventh grade lost their minds because holy cow, their literature teacher and math teacher WERE in fact dating

the evidence of you wearing hongjoong's cardigan was enough to convince all the students it was true

so then some of them decided to confront you both

"teacher kim, teacher l/n we know your secret."

you and hongjoong were of course confused because of course your students had to be cryptic about everything... seventh graders 😒

"we know you guys are dating! teacher l/n, you're wearing teacher kim's custom cardigan!"

hongjoong had never turned his head so fast in his life and he immediately looked at the cardigan and sure enough

it was his

and you two were busted because now all your students knew you both were at least something, if not more than friends

PARK SEONGHWA

seonghwa teaches eighth grade reading / literature, he also has his masters in special education and administration

he is also the teacher that heads student council – like he built it from the ground up after the teacher before him let it crash and burn allowed it to be ruined

but seonghwa rebuilt the student council club and now its flourishes thanks to his leadership skills and teaching the students those same leadership skills

being a teacher is like a family job, his mother was a teacher and taught at the same school that he now teaches at

he wanted to become one to continue her legacy

students think he's way too handsome to be a teacher

he's also way too nice to be a teacher but like... none of the students ever give him issues

like even the behavior students don't disrespect him like they would other teachers – its kind of crazy

you had always admired seonghwa because of how good he was at his job and honestly... you were kind of jealous of him too

but you wouldn't dare tell him

you can't help but be amazed when you watch him speak at department meetings and how he always voices his thoughts so elegantly

seonghwa is also never afraid to help you if he sees you struggling or to ask for your opinion during meetings when he notices you haven't spoken

and he'll always back you up which surprises you because you aren't friends or even in the same grade

you kind of developed a crush on him but again you would never tell him or anybody for that matter

which to be honest, your crush and admiration is probably what lead you to volunteering to help out with the student council overnight trip to a student council convention

it was you, seonghwa, plus the ten student council students that qualified to go

you really never knew who exhausting planning a field trip was and seonghwa amazed you once again with how well-planned out the trip was

it kind of made you feel guilty because of how little you did to help out with the planning

"don't feel bad y/n! i'm glad you volunteered to come, i usually struggle with finding someone to come with me to help chaperone."

"really?"

"yeah."

well... that did make you feel a little better

and of course since you two were the only chaperones, that meant the two of you got to room together

the students were pretty sure they almost saw you pass out in the hotel lobby when seonghwa told you that

"teacher l/n, are you okay! you don't look so good!"

"i'm fine..."

"you're fine with sharing a room together right?" seonghwa asks once the two of you are alone in the hotel room

the students were also in their own hotel rooms and winding down after the long trip, you could feel yourself sink into the bed once you got into the room

"its fine, i don't mind," you tell him and seonghwa gives you a warm smile as he settles down on the bed next to yours "are field trips always this exhausting?"

"only the overnight ones"

"great"

JEONG YUNHO

eighth grade history teacher but he's also taught sixth grade history in the past as well

yunho is very serious about teaching and strict when it comes to listening, doing work, being respectful, etc.

especially in the beginning of the year, but does let up a little bit near the end and after exams and stuff

he has a strict schedule that he follows when teaching his content and knows his content like the back of his hand

he has a routine and the students are quick to learn it and make sure the others are at least doing what they are suppose to be doing when the bell rings

but despite how strict and stuff he is, yunho loves teaching and the kids love his class

even if they don't like it at the beginning, the class and yunho will grow on them before the year is over

even the other teachers respect yunho and will ask him on how he teaches certain events and whatnot, always going to him for tips on where to find good materials

yunho is like the jack-of-all-materials

even has his own tpt page because of how much stuff he has made for his own class and co-workers

you will also always find him and san hanging out together in each other's room during their planning time

usually gossiping about students or other teachers

students have learned that when san walks into yunho's room, then its serious because san never leaves his room during class time

also no one ever really bothers yunho because of how strict he is with teaching and getting everything he needs done, to get done

however, students are shocked when you walk into yunho's room one day WHILE he's teaching to ask him a question

like their jaws drop when yunho stops teaching in order to help you with something and laughing with you as he brushes your apology off

it was like they just watched a mean dog turned into the friendliest puppy when you walked in

some of them questioned if they were transported to a different reality because there is no way this is happening

you and yunho are like night and day, yunho with dark button-ups and you with your funky colored pants

"you're seeing this to right?" one of them would whisper to the other students around them

the students were too stunned to speak

"hey! get to work, i expect you to have these notes written down by the time i'm done," yunho would say and immediately the students would get to work

"thank you teacher jeong, i appreciate the help with this new program"

"sure, its no problem," he says as he walks you to the door. "choi came to me during planning asking about it plus some other teachers as well"

"ah, well glad i'm not the only one struggling!" you let out a laugh and yunho returns it and laughs with you, "i'll see you after school, yeah?"

"of course"

you wave as you close the door behind you and yunho immediately goes back into his teaching mode

once again leaving his students shocked and with whiplash from how fast his attitude changed

"we really were in just another reality"

KANG YEOSANG

seventh grade history but wants to one day be a librarian

yeosang loves history but is also certified to teach reading/literature

a lot of the students and teachers love him for how nice he is to everyone

he really connects well with the behavior students, like a lot of them will always say he's there favorite teacher

even the ones who never come to class, go to yeosang's class because who in their right mind who skip teacher kang's class?

no one that's who

students will always go to him when there's an issue because they know he will help them

that's why a lot of them are surprised when they find out him and wooyoung are best friends since high school

"you and teacher jung are best friends!?"

"yep! have been for years!" and yeosang is proud to say that him and wooyoung are best friends and can teach together at the same school

none of the students can get over how handsome he is as well and a lot of sixth graders can only hope to get him in seventh grade

"teacher kang, you're so handsome you could be an actor!"

yeosang can only smile at the comments, not really saying anything as he's use to those comments by now

well coming from his students or other adults that is

however, hearing those comments (or reading them) from you is a different story

he doesn't know how you manage to time it whenever his students are doing independent work but you do

he'll be at his desk or walking around, when you come in and some the students will immediately greet you

you simply smile and wave at them before walking over to hand yeosang something

"i got the stuff from your mailbox while i was at mine," you told him

yeosang thanks you and you smile at him before turning and leaving

you usually go to the mailbox when you need a break from your class and there's already someone in there to help

yeosang looks at the stuff in his hands, and notices the folded piece of paper that had his name written nicely in your handwriting

he opens it as he walks to his desk and immediately feels a warmth overtake his face

'you look really pretty today, yeo ;) can't wait to hangout after school in our usual place! miss you already!'

yeosang quickly stored the note in his desk, before quickly going back to teaching and trying to hide the excitement of seeing you later to the back of his mind

CHOI SAN

eighth grade reading/literature teacher along with seonghwa and school's volleyball coach

he played volleyball when he was in school and so he's very passionate about the sport and his athletes

a tough coach and an even tougher teacher, but only because he knows all his students can do better than what they showing him

like seonghwa with student council, san managed to help the volleyball team go to nationals thanks to his coaching and the his girls' effort and teamwork

a lot of students are scared of him because of how he coaches, especially his athletes – like even just the mention of san gets them scared

but really san just wants the best for all his students and just like volleyball, he's also passionate about his teaching

very writing focused versus seonghwa who is more reading based, but they work really well together to make sure all their students are getting the same knowledge and material

san's not afraid to speak his mind during department meetings and the other teachers know this – like he will straight up call something out if he knows it won't work

seonghwa usually has to cut him off because of this, they are a very funny duo and students love watching them interact

"teacher choi is like a dark cloud and teacher park is like a sunny day"

like the kids, you are also intimidated by him because of how much just pure authority he gives off

like you would think he's a principal from how students act around him

he actually does step up as an admin when the actual principals are out of the building because he does have his masters in administration, so he could very well one day become a principal

but going back to you being intimidated by him 💀

you never really dared to approach him, always sitting on the opposite side of the room during department meetings

mainly because you didn't want to get on his bad side

"please teacher l/n, can you help us start this club?"

"sure, girls!" you were more than happy to help sponsor their club "who's the other teacher?"

you watched as the girls' faces deflated at the question, of course you don't blame them for not knowing that clubs needed two teachers to become official, not just one

"i have a teacher in mind!"

"who?" "tell us!"

"coach choi, can help! especially since volleyball is over!"

you felt the color drain from your face at the thought of san and you running a club together

"teacher l/n will you ask coach choi if he can help us?"

"sure... i'll ask."

"a club?"

"yeah, some of your volleyball girls recommended you and wanted to see if you could be the second teacher sponsor."

"ah, that's right. the school has that stupid two teacher club sponsor rule. always did think that was dumb."

san thought for a minute which felt like a lifetime the longer you stood in his classroom

"sure, why not. i'm sure it'll be fun to run a club together."

"i'm sure the girls will also appreciate it. i'll send you the information when i hear back from the principal about the club."

"of course, if you have any issues let me know."

"will do, thanks!"

that was definitely a lot less nerve-racking then you thought it would be...

maybe running a club san won't be so bad after all

SONG MINGI

mingi is THE ms. frizzle aka the best science teacher you will ever have

he teaches sixth grade science and is always having some sort of fun with testing experiments and theories with the students

science class will forever be ruined after you have him as a teacher because no one is doing it like mingi

literally older students will come by to see either him or wooyoung and they will always ask mingi what he is currently doing in that class

and while he's an amazing teacher – he's also hella clumsy

like students learn fast not to leave their things in the floor if they don't want this 6ft tall man tripping over and possible destroying their things

someone save this man from all those decorative pencil pouches and metal water bottles pls 💀

anyways, a lot of students love mingi because of his fun personality and not because he almost below up the science lab because a experiment gone wrong

very much into team building and having all the students work together towards a goal because he knows how important teamwork is in life and wants students to have it

a lot of students are actually intimidated by him when they first see him because of his tall stature and harsh look

but he's really cool once him and the students build that rapport

so a lot of students were surprised when they found out that you and mingi were best friends

it never really clicked for most of them since you both taught different grades AND subjects

but then during school assemblies and such, you and mingi would always be sitting next to each other

whispering and laughing to each other and it would leave students bewildered when they saw the two of you

like "what in the world are they laughing about?"

"you know... the kiddos asked me the other day about us," you said, leaning over and whispering into his ear

"yeah?"

"they asked me how long we've been friends"

"w-what did you tell them?"

"since college, i left out the part where you made out with my best friend before tripping over her bag and landed into my lap."

you could tell mingi was blushing, his ears turning red at your words

"i-it wasn't like that!"

"i know, no need to feel embarrassed. i agreed to go out with you didn't i?"

you couldn't help the smirk on your face while mingi had a pout on his own, completely forgetting that the two of you were suppose to be watching the talent show and not flirting

JUNG WOOYOUNG

teaches sixth grade math and is an on-going menace to his students

you either love or hate him because of how he teaches and runs his classroom

always changing the seating desk arrangement in his room which keeps students on their toes

he's always a complete 180 from hongjoong who is the head of the math department

like students get whiplash when they go from wooyoung to hongjoong because of how different they are

but that's not to say wooyoung is bad at his job, on the contrary wooyoung is fantastic at his job

always has a math pun ready to whip out when needed and is always dishing out savage remarks to his students when they try to be a smart-ass to him

they learn quick that they won't be able make smart comments with him around

wooyoung is just very blunt with how he's feeling – like if a student makes him mad you'll know he's mad

does a lot of bootcamp punishments (i.e makes them do exercises when they don't listen to him like: jumping jacks, squats, nothing too extreme) this makes kids not want to disrespect him because they know what will happen if they do

some parents have thought it was "extreme" but he simply told them "well it got your child to listen for once in their life" – that shut the parent up real quick

but wooyoung rarely gets serious because he has the respect from students and so those bootcamp punishments are rare and few in-between

most of the time he's fun and playful which also travels over to how he acts with his fellow teachers

including you

wooyoung always visits you when he's on his planning period

like your class can always expect him to stop by at least once during their class

which none of them mind cause that means they can see their favorite math teacher again but don't tell hongjoong that

however with his constant visits, it makes students question if you guys are dating

especially when wooyoung is always complimenting you when you're at your desk and you both think that the students can't hear you

"you look very lovely today, teacher l/n."

"watch yourself, jung."

you eventually have to run wooyoung off so you can get back to teaching

"oh they are totally dating" students would whisper to each other watching the two of you interact

students really really ship you guys together and are always questioning you about your ideal type and stuff

but you always brush off their questions and comments about how you and teacher jung would look great together

and eventually the students had moved on to something else and you were thankfully left alone about your love life by your students

until one day when you and wooyoung were spotted by some students outside of school

you and him had went to the store together, not really thinking about school as you both spent time together

however that peace between the two of you was set ablaze when heard a familiar "teacher l/n! teacher jung!" and snapping the two of you out of your daze

wooyoung was quick to greet the students who approached you both, a smile on his face and arm around his shoulder

and you knew your secret was out because of how the students' zoned in on wooyoung's arm around your shoulder

you couldn't help but dread what would happen when you arrive at school tomorrow

"i didn't like keeping it a secret anyways," he would making you smack the back of his head in response before pushing the shopping cart and walking away from your boyfriend

CHOI JONGHO

eighth grade math who got roped into teaching seventh grade science as well

jongho is really in his element when it comes to math

and is really hanging by a thread when it comes to science

like he's the opposite of mingi and HATES science – like who thought it was a good idea to have this man teach it?

oh, they did a budget cut and so they were down a science teacher? makes sense.

the kids either love or hate him because of how he teaches

his eighth graders and seventh graders are like night and day when it comes to literally everything

it might also have something to do with the content but just let him complain about his seventh graders

you actually found him one day in the workroom stressing over his science while eating his ramen

you remember some of your kids talking about jongho and you've seen him at faculty meetings

but never had a one-on-one conversation with him mainly because he was in a totally different content and grade from you (he was still an eighth grade teacher at the end of the day)

you know hongjoong really likes him and praises him for learning how to adapt so well to a new content era that he never studied in

you think that for a first-year teacher he's doing a lot better than you had when you were in his shoes

and you figure what's the harm in talking to him and seeing how he's doing

"everything going okay, teacher choi?"

he's caught off guard by your voice, jumping and looking up at you as you walk over to get your copies from the copier

"oh, um, i'm fine. just thinking about what i'm gonna do for my science class"

"ahh, that's fair, i still can't believe they have you teaching science and math for your first year"

jongho lets out a laugh which is followed by a small "yeah... i can't either"

"but hongjoong says that you're doing a good job for your first year, so you should be proud! hongjoong never compliments anyone"

"really?"

"really. and just know that if you ever need help just reach out. i know you're not a seventh grade teacher but us who teach seventh grade needs to stick together. its a tough group."

"oh my god, i'm so glad you think that as well! i thought it was just me!"

"oh no, everyone knows seventh grade is always the worse year, we all struggle with them at some point"

"that really makes me feel better about doing my job"

"jongho, you're doing a great job. the kids love you and there will always be those kids that make you feel like you are terrible at your job. but all you have to do is teach to the ones who want to be there, and worry about them."

you tell him the exact same words you were told when you were a first year and thinking the same thing

"thank you, y/n"

you can't help but smile as you nod your head, taking your copies and heading back to your room while jongho finishes his ramen

tag list : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @cheesekimchi @confusedmoonchild777 @mjyungi @innieontop @iweirdthingsblog @s0obinluvr @worcesheshestershiresauce @moonlightgrleric @wineyoungie @jeongwangjessmina @lemineso

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#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez headcanons #ateez hongjoong x reader #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yeosang x reader #ateez san x reader #ateez mingi x reader #ateez wooyoung x reader #ateez jongho x reader

[darling-zain]

✮ ↳ All Eyes On Me ↰

♡ yandere! actor x gn reader pt 2♡

tw/cw: obsessive love, murder, mentions of blood, slight emotional manipulation

authors notes: this took me forever i'm sorryyyy editing is a bitch :( but I'm really proud of this one!! hope you'll like it too <3

"Why weren't you watching?" His voice is cold and filled with contempt as he glares at you, his nails digging into the skin of his palm.

"I-I was! Why wouldn't I watch, I've been backstage this whole ti-" Your voice is soft, trying to quell the fury in his gaze.

"Liar!" He steps closer to you, causing you to back away. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. "You weren't watching. When I was offstage, I looked for you behind the curtains. But you were never there." He's now right in front of you, grabbing the door handle and slamming it shut. "All those training sessions, all those late nights memorizing my lines till it felt like my head was going to burst, all the blood, sweat and tears- It was all for you!" His breathing is heavy and his voice is a low growl, his light tan skin flushed with anger.

"Aurelius, I...I had no idea..." Your voice trails off, eyes gazing into his with regret. "But, I did watch! It's just that near the end I got a phone call, so I had to leave the theatre to pick it up and I got distracted!"

"I don't need your excuses." He spat, glaring down at you. "I understand. I get that I'm just another actor you have to work with; you're just here for the paycheck. And that's fine!" He backs up, a deranged smile on his face. "But could you at least pretend that you care? Just a bit?"

"I do care! why wouldn't I care, I've been working with you on this for months! Please, no need to get so upset." Your words cut through him like a knife, and his eyes widen with disbelief.

"'No need to get so upset'?! How can you even say that right now?! I've put so many hours into this, spent so much time on this all for your approval, and when the day finally comes you don't even stay to watch?! I'm not just upset, I'm-" he takes a deep breath, shaking slightly. "Heartbroken."

"Aurelius, please, listen to me. The reason why I couldn't stay is because I got a call from my best friend, and they sounded really upset, so I needed to go help them... I'm sorry."

He turns towards you, a look of cold, pure, disbelief on his face. His eyes widen as he mutters something under his breath. The room is so quiet that even though he whispered, you could hear every word clearly.

"You missed my show...for someone else?" He takes a step back. "You missed my show...because someone told you to?" The silence is thick between the two of you, the same deranged smile appearing on his face. He chuckles, his laughter becoming louder and more insane. "Are you serious?! After all that time we spent working, you left me for your friend?!" Tears roll down his face, smearing his makeup. He stumbles back into the sound table and clutches onto it while trying to regain his composure.

"Auri, you have to understand! It was an emergency, I had no other choice!" The desperation in your voice is evident, you need him to realize the severity of the situation. You walk up to him and hesitantly place a hand on his shoulder. Your breath hitches in your throat when he smacks your hand away, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers over his eyes.

"Don't," His voice is shaky, yet still cold and unforgiving. "Don't touch me. You don't deserve to after what you've done. I know how much I mean to you now, I don't need your lame explanations." He straightens up before walking out the door, standing in the frame for a second. "Bandaids don't fix bullet holes." He departs with a swish of his hair, leaving you standing alone in the now deathly quiet sound booth.

He grabs his stuff, slipping a small object into his bag as he hurriedly exits the theatre, wiping off his smudged makeup. He doesn't even take the time to change out of his costume, his brain is too panicked to even think about anything except what you said.

"Excuse me, you work with y/n right?" A person with a panicked expression walks up to him, biting their nails worriedly. His angry expression immediately changes to one of calmness.

"Yes, I do. why do you ask?" He puts on his signature winning smile as he bends down to their height.

"Well, I was with them earlier when they said they had to leave, and they didn't even tell me where before they just left! I know they work here, so I was wondering if you've seen them?" Your friend seems really troubled at your sudden disappearance, but Aurelius had other things on his mind.

"Actually, I think I have an idea of where they might be. Follow me!" His charming disposition and comfortable aura would make anyone follow him without question, including your friend. They started to walk together, the silence between them tense because of the worry that accompanied it. He lead them up and down roads, into busy lanes and quiet walkways. Eventually, they landed in front of a large forest.

"Wait... this is their favourite forest! You're a genius, I don't know why I didn't think to come here sooner!" Aurelius looked at your friend with exquisitely veiled contempt, their eyes shining with hope disgusting him.

"Oh, really?" He feigns surprise, not wanting to give away his true intentions just yet. "I didn't know! I just remember seeing them come here one time after work, I didn't know it was their favourite." He was lying. He knew everything about you. Your coffee order, the route you took home after work every day, the position in which you slept, everything. "Shall we head in?" He asked politely, extending a hand toward them. They nodded, walking into the dimly lit forest.

"I don't think I got your name, sorry."

He scoffs inwardly, berating them in his mind. "How do you not know my name? Me, the Aurelius Yavuz? You should be able to tell from one glance alone!" He thought, but he responded kindly regardless. "It's Aurelius. Aurelius Yavuz. And you?"

"Carmen! It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yavus!" The way your friend sounds so cheerful disgusts him.

"Likewise," he mumbles, his voice sounding slightly pompous from their ignorance of his status. He brings their attention elsewhere, just wanting to get this whole ordeal over and done with as soon as possible. "I think I heard a noise over that way, would you like to check it out?" He points towards a dark corner of the forest with a small clearing in the middle.

"That looks like their hiding spot...yes, I think they might be there! quick!" Carmen starts to run into the thicket of trees, leaving Aurelius behind. In the dim light of the evening sun peeking through the trees, his eyes glow with a menacing aura. A confident smirk makes its way onto his face as he follows behind them. He pulls a small knife out of his bag, the shining metal glinting in the light.

"Aurelius...they're...not here..." Carmen's disappointed voice emanates through the forest. He slowly walks toward them, the satisfied look on his face making him seem even more insane than before.

"Aww, now isn't that a shame~?" He steps even closer, now almost nose-to-nose with them. "Don't worry," He brings his arm behind their shoulder, placing his hand right behind their neck. "You won't have to even think about them anymore." In a flash, Carmen collapses to the ground, the once pristine silver knife now tainted with potent red sin.

He dusts off his hand, wiping the blood on the knife onto the backside of his costume. He scoffs as he looks down onto the now still body of your beloved friend, kicking their body into the bushes beside him. He walks away and out of the forest, taking the same path you always take to your residence. He stops in front of your house, knocking on the door. He takes a deep breath and forcefully makes his eyes look teary, needing every tactic he knows to make you believe him. You open the door, stepping back when you see him.

"Aurelius, why are you-"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out at you like that. I just...was so upset, I thought this show meant something to you! But, I understand that you have your priorities, so I'm not mad anymore. Forgive me?" He gazes into your eyes, false tears now pooling at the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, Auri..." You embrace him tightly, crying into his chest. "I'm so sorry! I should've stayed, I should've watched, I didn't mean to hurt you that bad, I'm sorry!" You can't see his face as you're sobbing into his shirt, not able to see the knowing smirk on his lips. He pats your head kindly, cooing at you to help you calm down.

"Hey, hey, don't cry... it's okay now. Everything's been taken care of, now it's just you," he kisses the top of your head, rubbing soothing circles into his back as a sharp glint flashes through his eyes.

"and me."

taglist!! @lasagna-goob @izizzl @skylark144 @cyphertryagain

#zain>>works #tw yandere #tw obsessive love #tw murder #tw blood ment #yandere blog #yandere writing #soft yandere #yandere x you #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

141 + Konig and Alejandro.

Requesting how they would react to reader having a near death experience and are afraid of losing them. Fluff at the end. Please and thank you ☺️

Of course, thanks for the request! Hope this is what you were looking for!

141 + König & Alejandro Reacting To Reader Nearly Dying

Warnings: blood, mentions of death, mentions of injury, heavy angst- ends in fluff

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

Simon Ghost Riley-

It happened so quickly that Simon barely had time to register it.

The enemy had the gun pointed at him, and Simon was prepared to take it. He knew there was no escape from it. But then, you. You and your selfless heart just had to step in.

At the last second, you were nothing but a blur in his field of vision as you jumped in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant for him.

He watched as you dropped to the floor, and his entire world stopped in that moment. In his blind rage, he took down the man who shot you without a second thought, before regaining his senses.

"I need a med evac, NOW! Y/N's been shot." Simon cried out in a panic, rushing to your side. "Hey, hey, keep your eyes open, okay? Don't you dare fuckin' close them."

"I love you, Si." You said, gripping his arm with as much strength as your weakening form could muster. "I'm sorry."

"Don't talk like that, I won't have it. Keep your eyes open, kid." He gave your cheek a light slap as he pressed his hand on the wound on your abdomen. "Don't leave me, please."

You felt yourself slipping away, Simon's pleas being the last thing you heard before darkness consumed you.

~

Your eyes blinked open as a blinding white light blurred your vision. It took you a moment to realize your surroundings, as you looked over to the person whose hand was tucked firmly in yours. "Simon?"

"Sweetheart?" Simon voice was timid, and you knew him well enough to know that he had been crying. "You're awake."

"Hey." You croaked as you tried to sit up.

"No, no, don't move. I'll get you some water." He reached over to the bedside table and helped you gulp some of the ice water. He watched as you shakily set the glass down next to you, his eyes softening as he saw how much you struggled with such a simple gesture.

"You could have died Y/N, what were you thinking?" Simon asked, not taking his eyes off you. "That bullet was meant for me."

"And I couldn't sit by and watch you die, Simon. My body reacted before my brain did. It was just instinct. And I'd do it again if it meant you being alive." Your tone took Simon off guard, his protective walls shattering at your words.

"I can't live without you. I thought you were gone." His voice was barely audible, and you could hear the deep sadness in it.

"I'm here, Simon. I'm not going anywhere." You pulled him closer to you, forcing him to lay his head on his chest.

"Marry me."

"What?" You asked, not sure if you heard him correctly.

"Marry me." Simon repeated, his eyes still staring deeply into yours. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"But you said that-"

"I don't care what I said before. Nearly losing you made me realize that I want to spend every waking second with you for the rest of my life. So please, marry me. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow and make it official."

You let out a small sob as you absorbed his words. "Yes, yes, of course I'll marry you."

Simon smashed his lips to yours, holding you impossibly close as he deepened the kiss. "I love you, so much."

"I love you too, always."

John Price-

"When we are done with this God forsaken mission, I'm taking you to a nice dinner, got that?" John asked, a hint of a smile lining his lips.

"I certainly won't say no to that. I could use a night out with you." You gave your husband a warm smile before turning the corner in the building the two of you were clearing. "Last room, we should be done in just a minute."

John turned his gaze back to you, and his blood ran cold as he saw your foot land on trip wire. "Y/N, WAIT!"

But it was too late. You triggered the bomb set by the trip wire, and you and Pricem were sent flying as the explosion rang out through the building.

It took a moment for John to regain his senses, the impact of the explosion knocking the wind out of him.

John's ears were ringing as he looked for you amongst the debris. "Babe? Where are you!?"

He wiped some of the dust from his eyes and found you lying on the floor across the room, pieces of wood covering the lower half of your body.

He slid over to you, throwing the debris off of you in a panic. "Hey, hey, hey. You better be okay. I can't do this without you, I can't."

His heart was practically beating out of his chest as his eyes raked up and down your figure. You were covered in blood and bruises, and your heartbeat was faint.

He put his arm underneath your limp body and lifted you, holding you close to him chest. "I'm not going to let you die."

~

Sounds of distant talking, and machines beeping drew you from your deep slumber. Your eyes blinked open, as a cough racked through your chest.

"Babe!" John cried out, cutting his conversation with Laswell short. "You're okay."

He hurried over to you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you blinked away the sleep from your eyes. "What happened?"

"We can talk about that later. How are you feeling?" John asked, kneeling next to the bed, grasping your hand firmly in his.

"Like hell, but I'll be okay." You gave him a reassuring smile as you squeezed his hand. Your brows furrowed slightly as you took in his bruised face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better now that you're awake. Gave me quite a scare, sweetheart." He said as he pressed a kiss to your hand.

"Well, I should work on getting better quickly. If I remember correctly, you owe me a date, captian."

"That I do, I'm going to make it a date you'll never forget."

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You and Kyle were doing one of your weekly walks on one of the trails near your home.

It was a habit the two of you had formed, and it was a way for you both to unwind from the stresses of your lives.

It was early on a late winter morning, and you were just making your way over a small wooden bridge that rested above a small river. Kyle looked over at you and chuckled as he watched you shiver slightly.

"Should've taken a coat, kid. I told you it was cold."

"I'm no weakling. Besides, we are almost home anyway, I'll be fine." You giggled, bumping into him as the two of you walked.

He gave you the slightest of nudges, as the two of you laughed. At that same moment, you were walking over a small slick puddle on the bridge, causing you to lose your footing.

It happened in the blink of an eye, your valance being thrown off, sending you toppling over the side of the small bridge, into the freezing water below.

Kyle's entire world froze, and sheer panic set in. He watched as your frame disappeared into the water, and he immediately bolted across the bridge, to get to the ground below.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He screamed, his eyes frantically searching for you.

He saw your head emerge from the water, gasping for air as you struggled to tread above the surface. Without hesitation, he tore off his coat and jumped into the freezing water, swimming after you.

~

Dragging you to the surface, he grabbed his coat off the ground and wrapped it around your frame, holding you tightly to him, rubbing the length of your arms vigorously. "Are you okay?"

You gave a nod, as a chill ran through your body. "Thank you, for saving me. I couldn't feel my body."

"I will always, always save you. No matter the cost." He pressed a warm kiss to your temple, shivering slightly as he began to realize just how cold it was. "You are my everything, Y/N. I'm so sorry, this was my fault."

"I should've watched where I was going, it's okay. I'm okay." You said it more to yourself than to Kyle, in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"Let's get going, I'll draw a hot bath for us when we get back. I think we both at a minimum are going to catch a cold from this." Kyle chuckled, helping you to your feet.

"Maybe this'll teach me to wear a coat next time."

König-

"I'm right behind you, Kö, go!" You called out, running as fast as your legs could carry you.

The building was crumbling around you and the team as you all struggled to make your way outside to safety.

You were nearly out of the building when you tripped on a loose piece of concrete, sending you toppling to the floor. "KÖNIG!"

But it was too late, König was already out in the open before he heard you, and the building finally crumbled to the ground before he registered your cry for help.

"MAUS!" König cried out, watching as the dust settled from the crumbled building. His legs moved before his brain could catch up as he darted toward the rubble.

"König, wait! You're going to get yourself killed!" Price called out, trying to stop the Austrian from running to you.

"I can't leave them!" König slid to his knees and began to dig away at the rubble bit by bit. "I can't leave them."

König felt tears pooling in his eyes, the thought of losing you tearing at his heart in a way that made it nearly hard for him to breathe. "They're my everything."

Price and the others knew that fighting him was hopeless and ran to his aid. They spent the better part of 20 minutes throwing rubble to the side, and were just about to give up when they heard a faint cry from underneath them.

"Help! I'm in here!" You choked out, your throat filling with dust from each breath you took. "Please."

König was sent into a frenzy at your cries for help and doubled his efforts to remove the rocks. "Maus, I'm here! Hold on, I'm here!"

With one final rock thrown to the side, your beaten and battered frame came into his line of sight, and he felt the weight on his shoulders fall off.

You were covered in debris and blood, but still had that beautiful smile on your face. "König."

He reached his hands down and pulled you up to him in a bone crushing hug. "I'm here, Maus. I'll never leave you again."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You and Johnny were running from an onslaught of enemies making their way to your location. You were less than half a mile from exfil, and the two of you were running faster than you ever have in your lives.

Johnny heard gunshots from behind him, and heard a sharp intake of breath come from you.

"Babe, come on, we've got to move!" Johnny called out, looking behind him to make sure you were following. What he saw, had his entire world shifting on its axis.

You looked up at him, through bleary eyes, as your hand clutched at the growing blood splotch on your stomach. "Johnny."

"No, no, no." Johnny ran over to you as you started to lose your footing, and held you in his arms. "Hey, kid, it's alright. You're going to be okay."

"It hurts, Johnny." You whispered, the blood loss causing you to grow weaker by the second. "I'm scared."

"You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. I won't let anything happen to you." His voice was shaky as he struggled to keep his composure. "Please, please keep yourself awake. I'll get us to exfil."

He carried your body and sprinted toward the exfil point, praying to the stars that you would make it out of this alive.

~

Johnny walked into your hospital room a few days later, and his heart felt like it was going to implode when he saw your smiling face looking back at him.

"Theres that beautiful smile." Johnny's voice came from beside your bed. "I thought I lost you."

"I'm here, Johnny. I'm sorry to have scared you." You reached for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze as your eyes met his.

"Don't ever scare me like that again. I don't know what I would've done without you." Johnny's words felt like molasses in his throat, as his tears threatened to pour down his cheeks once more. "I can't live without you."

"I promise. I'm not going anywhere." You pulled him toward you and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he began to sob into your chest.

"You better not, I won't ever let anything happen to you again."

Alejandro-

Alejandros' worst nightmare had come true. The cartel had taken you hostage in an attempt to get back at him and Los Vaqueros, and it had been nearly three days without any sign of life from you.

He and Rudy were able to locate you at a nearby warehouse, and Alejandro was on a warpath to get to you. Dead bodies were strewn across the floors of the building, left in Alejandro and Rudy's wake.

Alejandro rounded a corner, and his heart stopped at the sight of you strapped to the chair, your body battered, bloodied and bruised.

"Carino!" He called out rushing to your side. He was quick to unstrap the restraints holding you to the chair and caught your limp body as it fell forward. "Carino, please, please be okay."

He carried your weakened body and sprinted alongside Rudy to leave the compound.

His tight grip on you didn't falter the entire ride to the hospital, as hot tears began to fall down his cheeks. Alejandro had been through a lot in his life, but nothing compared to this moment. He could feel the life slipping from you, and bit by bit, his heart began to disintegrate.

~

It was a few days later, when you were finally discharged from the nearby hospital. Alejandro had been distant from you the entire time you were admitted, the guilt of your kidnapping being too much for him to handle.

You weren't going to take his distance any longer, however, and decided to approach him about it a short while after you both got home.

"Alejandro, we need to talk. I'm okay, now. It's okay." You spoke, resting your hand on his shoulder gently. "Please, talk to me."

"It's not okay, I failed you. I should've been there. It's because of -."

"Ale, it's not your fault." You turned him toward you gently. "I don't blame you, not in the slightest."

"But it is, I'd understand if you didn't want to be with me anymore." His gaze fell from you, his eyes lingering on the floor below. "You're not safe with me."

"Don't say that. Alejandro, I'm safest when I am with you. I am not, and will not ever leave you."

Alejandro choked on a sob as he collapsed to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head against your abdomen. "I don't deserve you, hermosa, but I will spend the rest of my life making you the happiest person I can. And I promise you, I will protect you no matter the cost."

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

A/N: I really struggled with writing this one- I hope you all enjoy!

#simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #konig x reader #konig imagine #gaz imagine #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #soap mctavish #soap imagine #soap x reader #konig mw2 #captain price #price x reader #price imagine

[notquitecanon]

Call Me... // Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

TW: blood, canon typical injuries, kind of hurt comfort, Matt's a self sabotaging martyr as usual, kinda sunshine!reader??? maybe if you squint

Bolded line is from a prompts list from several months ago so I lost the link. If it's yours let me know and I'll link it!

"I haven’t seen you in weeks… I’m worried you’re in another dumpster somewhere. Just call me back…please?" You whispered harshly into the phone’s receiver, burner cell jammed between your ear and shoulder as you fumbled with your keys. 

It was true. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t graced your apartment in weeks after three months of near nightly visits. At first it was serious stuff, stab wounds and splinted bones. It took two weeks for him to crack a joke. But once that stone cold exterior cracked, it was shattered. He was kind, sweet even. Every few visits, he’d bring by supplies to replenish your kit and, usually, with a bottle of wine in the bag.  Emergencies turned to what he called ‘urgencies’- wounds just barely deep enough to justify stitches and dislocated joints. Which then turned into stopping by at the end of his nights for a ‘check up’, where he took advantage of your central heating, warm beverages, and warmer presence. Then, some Yakuza jackass appeared on your doorstep three weeks ago, fortunately your devil hadn’t been far behind. He took care of him, and you figured the thug, now minus fifteen teeth, would have a hard time telling anyone where to find you. Nevertheless, you found the ‘available apartments’ section of the newspaper taped to your seventh floor window. That had been the last night ’the devil’ had paid you a visit. 

"Anyways… I guess I'm asking for a sign of life? Something? Please? Bye." You pleaded, voice kinder this time as you managed to finally unlock the door and slip inside. Locking the knob, deadbolt, chain, and newly installed jam that had been mysteriously delivered not too long ago. With a huff, you discarded your keys, and bag in the entry way before delving deeper into your dark apartment, flicking lights on as you went. 

"You really need to start locking your windows." A deep voice sounded as you rounded the corned into your living room. Heart jumping to your throat and stomach dropping, you let out a yelp as instinct took over. The familiarity of the voice didn’t register as adrenaline flooded your system. 

"SHIT!" You shrieked, flinching backwards so fast that the hallway runner rug caught under your feet, sending you careening into the wall. Without thinking, you put the Yankee’s starting pitcher to shame as you pitched your phone at light speed towards the voice. Of course, the shadow effortlessly caught it.

"Shit!" The intruder mirrored at your fall, and it was then that you realized who it was. As you collected yourself a slew of curses slipped out, looking into the dim living room to find the Devil of Hell’s kitchen slowly rising off the couch, he was already sans black shirt and mask, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you." 

"Yeah, well, mission failed." You muttered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that would still your pounding heart. Slowly, you finished your shuffled into the living room, flicking on the overheads as you went. "Shit, you could have called. Sit back down."  

You could have used the heads up, the gash across his chest looked serious, and not in the cute excuse to see each other way ’serious’ had meant last month. He breathed a sarcastic laugh, tossing your phone back to you before producing a shattered burner cell with a… bullet hole?

"You have a funny way of saving my skin when I least expect it." He tried a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace as you retrieved your first aid kit from under your kitchen sink, "Consider this a sign of life?" 

"A sign of barely alive, more like." You answered, rounding back around the couch to sit across from him. Harshly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and splaying out an array of supplies both his lap and yours. "You’re unbelievable. Almost a month of no contact and then you just appear and leak blood on my couch." 

"I’m sorry." He breathed, face angled to where your knees now touched. You rolled your eyes, ripping into a packet of gauze and setting to work dabbing the blood. And he sounded sorry, pitiful even, looked it to. His unseeing eyes stared straight past you and yet somehow straight through you at the same time, mouth settled in a puppy like frown. He told you once that he was catholic, and you now wandered if that’s why he was so good at looking guilty.  

"If it wasn’t for the newspapers, I would have thought you were dead." You drove your point home, with a small voice, too angry to be a whisper and yet too concerned to be a hiss. The evidence of his activities was written across his bare torso in older cuts, new and fading bruises, and a couple of bandages that he’d obviously applied himself, "And you’ve obviously been busy." 

"Figured out how the Yakuza found you. Handled it. Didn’t want to lead anyone else back here." His explanation was strained, pushed through gritted teeth as you applied antiseptic to the largest, freshest gash. You cooed small apologies, irritated as you were with the vigilante, you hated being the source of his pain. You picked up a suture kit, quickly threading the needle. 

"Well, as far as excuses go, that’s not the worst." You muttered, half joking and half touched he’d go through this for you. You’d known he was a walking martyr from the moment you’d met him, but still. He’d taken the beatings so you’d sleep safe. 

That was something else, "Lean back, gotta stitch you up." 

He complied as you stood, using your shoulder to nudge the floor lamp so the light was better for you. Even then, you position on the coffee table wasn't cutting it as leaning forward cast a shadow over his chest. Neither was kneeling in front of him, as the gash was too far up his chest for your position to be adequate. You muttered a quick apology as you flitted around him, trying to find the best place to plant yourself. Beside him on the couch might work, but you’d be straining to hold yourself up at that angle and keep your hands steady. 

Bloody-knuckled hands found your waist with amazing precision for a blind man, easily lifting you and placing you over one thigh after he spread his legs a bit wider. He held you steady, angling his eyes to the ceiling to give you the broadest view of his chest. One of your knees pressed into the couch cushion between his legs and the other pressed into the outside of his thigh, caging the his black-clad thigh between your own like a seat. If your weight bothered him, he gave no indication. He did however turn his ear ever so slightly towards you and smirk ever so devilishly, "How’s that?" 

"Very convenient, thanks." You forced your voice to be flat instead of the breathlessness you felt. Stupid charming vigilante. To his credit, it gave you the perfect access without blocking the light. And if you got to feel ever twitch of his insanely muscular thigh between yours? Added benefit. The devil, even bruised and bleeding, was insanely warm and smelled like something out of a terribly sinful romance novel. The manly small of musk and sweat should have been revolting, but the way it mixed with a fading aftershave would have been distracting if you weren’t so focused on the drip of crimson down his toned abdomen. Before your train of thought could derail again, you gave a quiet warning watching your patient steel himself before you began running the needle and thread through the torn skin.  Other than an initial hiss and the clenching of his fists against your waist, he went silent as you worked. 

The two of you sat in an almost tense silence. He could feel how close your face was to his chest, the waves of breaths washing over his skin, the smell of shampoo in your hair faint enough to know you’d put off washing it, the sound of your heartbeat slowing back down after he’d gotten you excited, the slight sound of your teeth worrying the inside of your lip. He knew he shouldn't be here, Claire could have patched him up, probably would have if he asked really nicely. He probably could have if he really tried, but he’d just missed you. Between Fisk and the Hand and the law firm… everything was messy. You were still simple and sweet and far more caring than he thought he deserved, a balm just to be near you. 

"Could you talk to me?" He asked, so quietly you almost missed it in your focus. You tied off another knot, seeing him wince. 

"Hmm?" You hummed, pausing to look up from the half stitched wound. His eyes lowered to your face, his clenched hands at your waist loosening to rub the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You always wore such soft things, he wondered if you’d be so soft underneath. You took opportunity in the pause to wipe some of the blood from his skin. 

"I’ve missed your voice, even if you want to yell at me or be upset with me, just let me hear it." His voice was like a prayer, so sincere it made you shift on his leg. What was in the holy water at his church? 

"I’m not going to yell at you, honey. I’m not going to kick a man when he’s stabbed." You shook your head, rearranging yourself to get that optimal view again, grazing a gloved finger over a purple bruise on his ribs, "Besides, someone beat me to it." 

He chuckled at the lame joke, leaning his head back against the back of the couch again as you began stitching once more. Instead of scolding him, you caught him up on all the details and minor drama that he’d missed over the last few weeks. The funny things and annoyances from work, things your family had sent you, what your friends had been up to, your opinion on current happenings in the city. He listened to you like it was the most interesting thing he’d heard all year, chiming in with questions and quips of his own. You’d missed his voice too, not that you’d boost his ego by telling him that. 

"There." You finally finished, tying the last stitch and taping a bandage over it. The vigilante under you didn’t make a move to leave, instead his hands kept you still on his lap. You breathed a laugh, moving on to everything else. You removed the old bandages, giving half healed wounds a thorough cleaning. You applied comical Disney bandaids to the more minor cuts on his hands and were even brazen enough to kiss his split knuckles. The vigilante seemed to preen under you attention as you cleaned and applied Vaseline to his busted lip. As if it was too good to be true, his lip twitched downwards as his eye brows furrowed. His face angled away from yours, his unseeing eyes falling on the window he’d come through. 

"You know, the burner phone's been broken for two weeks now. Took the bullet not too long after the yakuza paid you a visit. Couldn't bring myself to throw it away, a little piece of you." He admitted, a pitiful smile twitched up before pulling downward again. He groaned, starting to shift you off his lap, “I shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”

You allowed yourself to fall to the cushion beside him, but snatched the black shirt away from him before he could make a move for it. He’d been too busy letting his hands linger on your waist. 

“Why not?” You asked sternly, tucking the shirt behind your back as if the vigilante in front of you couldn't probably drop you six ways to Tuesday if he wanted to. Not that he could ever consider raising a hand to you, “You got hurt, I patch you up. Seems right to me.” 

The devil tensed, first leaning away and then leaning really close. His freshly bandaged fingers tapped your knee as if to emphasize his point, “I don’t deserve this kindness. And even if I did, if I could, if I was good, I would stop coming here so you could live in peace.” 

You were a silent for a moment, wanting to make sure your response was exactly how you wanted it to come across.  

“The third time you fell through my window, you told me that if I ever wanted to be left alone, all I’d need to do was change the candle I keep by the window.” You recounted his words. You hadn’t known about his senses at the time, he was still cryptic and mysterious. But you’d never changed the candle, buying new ones of the same scent when it would burn out, “You warned me what might happen. You gave me an out, one that I continuously chose to ignore. You did everything in your power to protect me when that choice had consequences. That was good, because you are good. And good people deserve kindness. You put too much on yourself, honey.”  

As you spoke, you laid your hand over his on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze to convey your own point. The crimefighter listened to your voice, your heartbeat, the quickness of your breath, finding no deceit and even if he didn’t believe you words, it was nice to hear them. Your kindness washed over him, letting him relax for just a second before he shook his head, laughing sarcastically to deflect the dangerously sappy emotions you stirred. You called him honey like it was his name, and part of him wondered that if you knew his name if you would still call him honey. 

“You barely know me, sweetheart.” 

His own nickname slipped out by accident, usually just something he called you in his head when he allowed fantasies about telling you everything, coming home to you as the vigilante and the lawyer, seeing just how far your good grace could take him. His lips quirked up in time with the uptick of your pulse and the way your breath caught for a moment. 

“I know enough to know you deserve some good.” You whispered earnestly, reaching up to graze the Star Wars bandaid you’d stuck across his the cut on his cheekbone. Almost instinctively, he leaned into the touch. You smiled softly, maybe you’d both missed each other a bit. The combined concern for the other and the time between his last visit making you both a little sappy, or at least more honest about it, So, you breathed a laugh, making another lame joke just to earn one of those chuckles you loved so much, “Besides, I know you well enough to have your blood on my hands.” 

But he didn’t laugh, instead, he pulled his face from your palm, his own bandaged hands taking your bloodied gloved hands in his own. Gently, he pressed your hands together, your loose fists creating almost heart like shape as he pressed reverent kisses to each bloody hand. The vigilante was kind always, flirty and joking, occasionally flirtations bordering on something else. But this? This was different, it was new. Intimate. You’d almost feel like a voyeur for watching the scene if it you weren’t playing a starring role. Your mind flashed to those romance novels you’d thought of earlier, this put all of them to shame. So much so that your hands started trembling against his lips. 

He held them tighter, but not in a constrictive, cage like way. More in a ‘let me hold you together’ kind of way before gently peeling the dirty gloves off and, again, kissing your clean hands underneath. His face angled to yours, nothing but sincerity lacing his features. 

"You know my blood better than my own heart does.” 

“God…” You whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your nose nudging his collarbone and your eye lashes fluttering against his neck. His stubbled cheek fell to the crown of your head.  You cleared your throat again, "I know your blood, but not your name. For someone I care so much about, that’s kind of sad.” 

It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud in such certain words. The vigilante ran gentle hands up and down your arms, silent as a million thoughts went through his head. You heart was racing, not from lying, but in anticipation. Despite your racing pulse, you seemed almost totally at ease with you skin against his, one of your hands pressed to a bandage on his ribs and the other holding purchase at the waistline of his black pants. Nothing sexual, just the perfect place for your soft hand to land.   

Despite the million thoughts, he really had two options. Keep his secret, and keep you at an arms length, to keep things sweet and simple and not too deep. Or. Let you in a little deeper, he'd swim oceans to keep you afloat. Enjoy your sweetness, even if things were complicated. He kept still, holding you as gently as you had touched him, a promise to himself that he could be gentle and soft, just as he could be lethal and ruthless.  Two sides of a balanced scale.  

Your heart had slowed down again, the soothing motion of his hands on your arm lulling you. You had been worried about his response. You’re confession had gotten too real, you were worried he’d jump out the window and disappear again. And you’d be left with nothing but bloody gloves and the thought that maybe you’d just imagined the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

"Matt.” His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper, “You can call me Matt. Just don’t stop calling me."

#matt murdock x reader #Daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #daredevil x female reader #matt murdock x y/n

[lunarw0rks]

sweet thing | part one

˖⁺‧₊˚ read it on ao3 | masterlist | ask box

price takes a liking to his neighbor. vulnerable, expecting, and in need of his helping hand. it's a good thing he always wanted a family.

john price x pregnant!reader (based on this idea of mine.)

warning(s): MDNI (18+); NOT EDITED, price is touch starved and kinda pathetic, pregnancy, angst/depression, alcoholism, fluff, fem!reader [wc: 1.3k]

Involuntary stress leave, they called it.

But for John, it was just short of decay. Sedentary, bitter—restless. Stuck at home while there's still a fight to be fought, men who need guidance. His men.

Before the stress does him in, he figures boredom will close in on him first, and it would be less merciful than any bullet or blade. Chores are a necessity, and hobbies are nothing more than a temporary soothe to his aches.

Every morning, irony wakes him up cold. Takes its pound of flesh. The world he devoted his adult life to fighting for, has nothing in it for him.

(Stiff fingers, heaving chest, bile in his throat, tremors marring his nervous system.)

It's hours before he can shake the feeling, so he compromises by rising at ungodly hours and fulfilling a rigid routine—still a trained soldier to his core. And by nightfall, he nurses a bottle until he's warm again, ready for the reset at dawn.

As they gaze out the window, his eyes search for purpose. Two fingers parting the blinds. Something, anything, please. But nothing. The sharp sting of cheap booze rushes past his teeth, and he's ready to retreat.

He winces through the taste before he's at attention again. The rumble of an engine cut short right next door. He angles himself to catch a clear view of the person. Instinct yells for him to be vigilant, but the sight in front of him snuffs the bellow.

The flow of a slip dress in the breeze, sticky strands of hair pulled back, glowing skin, a nurturing hand resting on the bump that shows through the fabric.

You look anything but thrilled while you wrangle your bags and fight the wind gusts, and you're well aware of it.

All John sees is bloom. Purpose. Duty.

Before he can gather all his wits, he's closed the front door behind him, his spilled bottle dribbling along the end table. It's not so much your beauty that drives him; he isn't a superficial man and can't afford to be.

A living, breathing person is what quickens his stride. Someone to talk to. Someone to touch and study. As of late, the only people near have been on the other side of the TV screen, fueled by dramatics and in character.

You find yourself stuck in your headspace again, mentally listing all the tasks that await you inside your house. Chores, mostly, some grocery shopping—and loads more of that endless baby planning. Relaxation wasn't an option and you're actively learning to accept that. Although, it's admittedly difficult to feel any other way when you've got another human to consider now.

John clears his throat. "Let me take tha' for you, darling."

He waits until you meet his stare to extend a hand, fingers grazing the flimsy straps of your shopping bags. You freeze, soaking in the sight of him.

"Hm?" Your brows knit together, and it's only then that you catch up with him.

"Your bags."

The man has already taken them before the words finish rolling off his tongue, but he stays in place.

A soft chuckle comes out of you to crack open the sheet of embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm a little out of it today."

Pregnancy brain, you want to blame it on. But deep down you know it's because kindness is a new taste nowadays.

Most are courteous and accommodating, making way for you. Others look at you like dirt on their shoes. Fatigue draining your features doesn't help, and neither does the absence of a wedding band. Early on, you were naive enough to believe society had moved beyond the stigma. Wrong, more wrong, and a fool is all you are nowadays, even if only in your head.

Exhausted, not out of it, he analyses, and his heart aches.

"It's alright." His voice is smooth as nectar, leaving goosebumps on your skin that you'll chalk up to the wind. "Shouldn't be carrying all this by yourself, anyhow."

You fight the urge to scoff and instead lead the way to the front porch.

He's right. You shouldn’t be doing any of this alone.

Turning the key, you step inside and let the words spill. “Yeah, I, uh— I didn’t have anyone to call.”

Price should be more shocked by your words, but he isn’t. He is really, and truly, desensitized to all the misfortune around him. And it’s not any different with you. His eyes—conditioned to spot every minute detail of a person—took milliseconds to notice your left hand.

Feel her out. Find out more.

“That so?” He questions softly but doesn’t give you a chance to respond. You’ve painted the whole picture and more.

His words are full of every sensibility possible. “That’s a shame.” Pity. Empathy. Grief. Outrage. All except condescension; none of this is your fault, he can sense it.

You expect admonition.

Leading a stranger inside is bad enough, and walking the fine line between small talk and oversharing is worse.

But you can’t bring yourself to taste it. Outside of some coworkers and your mother, this is your first taste of organic interaction, and it’s been overwhelmingly amicable so far. Not something you can take lightly; loneliness is prevalent.

You let out a tired sigh, letting the silent gesture speak for itself. What else can you say? He's already got you pegged after spending all but two minutes with you. Makes you wonder how you haven't noticed him sooner, though you remember his driveway is usually vacant and the blinds are always closed.

By now, it's obvious that if he had ill intentions, he would've acted on them by now. The silence isn't thick or stiff—it's refreshing, oddly enough.

When his mouth upturns, the crow's feet around his eyes are made visible. They've witnessed things, awful things, no doubt. But he's also got a world of wisdom in them.

This is the part where you find a farewell, something moderately polite so you don't feel awful for kicking him out. (Not your fault you need to rest your feet. At least you get the sense that he'll understand.)

In search for the words, you place a hand on your stomach, "well, it was kind of you to bring that in, uh—"

"—John." He interjects.

Out of habit, you form a clumsy smile and ache to get the proper words out. "It was very kind of you, John. Thank you."

Without any further direction, he's able to pick up on your hints for him to make his exit. The bar is so low these days, it's almost shocking. Shuffling to follow him to the front door, your hand seizes the knob.

There's a lot left unsaid, despite meeting your handsome neighbor only a short time ago. The voice inside urges you to keep it short. Send him off, get out of his hair. He was just being nice.

"I should thank you again," you blurt, almost abruptly. Price turns on his heels with little surprise, a leer written on his thin lips. "Next time, I'll take another trip to carry the bags."

"No next time, love." A purr and a new nickname.

Too smitten to even notice the ruffle of some paper when he reaches a hand in his pocket. Even stole the pen off your entry table (a.k.a the junk-pile-of-mail-table) and you were none the wiser. Dated, the way he scribbles on the crumbled receipt and hands it to you between his index and middle.

Heat rises up your neck and to your face when you inch closer to retrieve the number, somehow finding it within yourself to not break eye contact. John's gaze stays genuine, despite the puff of his chest and the way he breathes your scent in shamelessly.

Albeit frazzled—you weren't born yesterday; he's attractive and extremely luring and you're single and hormonal. Wouldn't take much for something to happen.

And if not, you know you'll have fond daydreams, at the very least.

"You ever need anything, give me a call. 'M good for more than bag carrying."

#divider by benkeibear #not sure what to think of this #john price #captain price x reader #price mw2 #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #price cod #price x you #john price x you #task force 141 #cod

[dameronology]

we can't be friends (steve rogers)

summary: based on we can't be friends by ariana grande

warnings: angst, swearing

sorry for being absent for six months. even more sorry that this is what i came back with. enjoy!

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a stormy day. Peaking through the clouds, encouraging you to come out of whatever shelter you'd chosen; letting you smell the fresh rain on the pavement as the light finally came through, taking back the water until next time. It was warm on your skin, right through to your bones and your heart and to your very soul. You could have basked in it forever.

The mornings were your favourite, waking up to golden alabaster skin, carved into his muscles. They were slightly scarred, with jagged pink marks of stab wounds and bullet skims and far too many near misses for you to be comfortable. Of course, he healed faster than most but when you were as trigger happy as Steve Rogers was, barely a mission went by when he didn't come home with some minor wound or another. Still, him being there was the most important part. He'd let out a sleepy little yawn and subconsciously roll over to hold you, taking him in his arms and pulling you to his chest. That was where you felt safest.

No matter how busy he was or how demanding work became, Steve always showed up. Flowers waiting for you on the counter after a bad day; ordering take out when you were ill and always making sure your favourite show was recorded on the DVR. You never even had to ask. He'd buy you new roses before your old ones had even began to wilt; had your busiest work days recorded in your phone calendar so that he could step up, even when his own job was pulling him across the country. That was the thing about Steve Rogers: he always showed up.

Until he didn't.

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a rainy day, but waiting for him to love you back was a never-ending storm. Rain pelting down, hammering onto your clothes and seeping through to your skin and your bones and eventually drowning your heart. There was no dry escape. No shelter to hide from the rain. You always felt it - the wet, the cold, the shivering - no matter how hard you tried to escape. There was no getaway from the realisation that he no longer loved you back, or from the 19 miscalled waiting on his phone, or from the dead roses wilted on your kitchen windowsill.

Long conversations about your future had turned into silent, screaming pauses. The arguments felt pointless. You could only beat a dead horse so many times before you realised it wasn't coming back to life.

You sat on opposite ends of the sofa now. Slept on different sides of the bed. Watched your favourite show in silence whilst he tapped away at his laptop, barely even bothered by your presence. He'd sat too a high standard for himself. It was one he couldn't keep, but even the bare minimum was a golden standard compared to what he was giving you these days.

"I'm done."

You'd surprised yourself more than anyone with the words. Steve had come home from work late again. The fourth time that week, twelfth time that month and countless times overall. You'd made dinner. It was cold now, like the stony expression on his face and the watery one on yours.

"What?"

Steve glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed.

"I'm done," you said.

"With what?"

You sighed deeply, regathering yourself for a moment. Pushed down the lump in your throat, shoulders raised to try and show whatever tatters of your pride you had left.

"I'm leaving you," you said. "I can't...I don't want to sit around and wait for you to love me again."

Steve put his phone down, pausing for a moment. It looked like he was going to say something...maybe anything. Even though your mind was made up, part of you wanted him to beg. To get on his knees, take your hands and plead for your heart back. God knows that this time a year ago, he would have pleaded with you in person and with writing in the sky.

Instead, he just sniffed.

He sniffed, and you left. Keys to your shared apartment thrown into the dish on the side, never to be taken again. At least the Lego heart keys chain you had together would be together again - you know, when he was actually home.

Whatever time you had previously put into your relationship, you now put into yourself. Found a nice little loft on the other side of the river - it felt like the wrong side, but everything felt wrong without him - and decorated it with everything but photos of you together. There was a nice rug, and a beautiful sofa, and your marble counters were a nice welcome home.

Still, the bed felt cold. Not as cold as it had when he'd lovelessly laid beside you, but still. Cold. It felt strange only having one tooth brush in the holder, and only one bottle of shower gel on the edge of your bath. The toilet seat was always down now (Steve had had only one flaw, and that was it) and you always tripped over the shoes that you left by the door because he no longer tidied them away.

It felt like half your heart was missing, but eventually it grew back.

You forgot about Steve, and the Avengers, and that entire world until Natasha Romanoff texted you. It had been six months since your break-up by that point, and even though you missed them all dearly, it had been natural for Steve to get them in the break-up. You had your friends. He had his. But, it was nice that Natasha still thought of you.

Hey, hope you're doing well. I'm having my birthday party next week at my apartment. 7pm, same building as always. It would be nice if you came. Steve may or may not be but he's been annoying lately so I'd rather have you. Let me know <3

At first, it had been an immediate no. Then you thought about it some more, and it was a definitive no. Then, you found yourself calling Nat and talking for three hours straight.

Apparently Morgan was in her One Direction era, and had thrown an hour long tantrum when she found out they weren't together anymore. Pepper and Tony had tried to pay for a reunion, but they weren't interested. Bruce was doing an assignment in France and Clint and his family had moved a little closer to the city. Sam and Bucky were still working for the government and naturally, that had brought Natasha onto the subject of Steve.

Doing better. That's what she said. Apparently he wasn't working as late anymore and he'd cut down his hours. He was going to therapy, drinking less and working out more. She'd lingered on the last sentence, but ended it with he's more like your Steve again.

That made you want to go to the party even less, and yet the following weekend you found yourself stood outside Natasha's high-rise apartment building at 7:35PM. You'd put more effort into your appearance than usual; a more expensive fragrance, spent a little longer on your hair and worn the outfit Steve had always thought you looked best in. Maybe it was a calculated move, but you'd never been all that good at maths.

Your entrance was met with four or five hugs. Natasha looked amazing as ever, and Bucky was brighter now. Tony was elated to see you and you didn't ask about Pepper's little baby bump, but you could see it was there. Your mind was kept too occupied by all them to even think about Steve.

That - naturally - all came crashing down when you saw him across the room. He was leant against a pillar, hair longer now but fluffed up and a 5 o'clock shadow gathered on his chin. Not like the man with long hair and a beard that you'd left, but not quite the squeaky clean looking Steve you'd fallen in love with either. Still though, it was closer. He was showing through the cracks.

The question of whether or not you would approach him answered itself, because you blinked and suddenly he was stood in front of you.

"I owe you an apology."

Straight to the fucking chase.

You faltered slightly, but didn't let it show. "Yeah, I think you do."

Steve glanced around you at all your friends - naturally, they were all staring at you. They might have been superheroes but that didn't stop them being nosey fuckers.

"Let's go to the roof," he said. "I mean...if you want. You don't owe me anything."

You nodded your head. "Let's go to the roof."

The climb up the stairs to Natasha's terrace was awkward, but not as bad as the silence that quickly filled the cold air as soon as you got up there. Steve might have been one of the bravest men you'd ever met, but vulnerability scared the shit out of him. You suspected that was the case now.

"So?" you asked. "What could you possibly have to say?"

"I'll only say that I'm sorry once," Steve began. "So: I'm sorry. For pushing you out, for not trying, for letting work consume me. Even more for the fact I didn't even try to stop you leaving, because as soon as you shut the door, all I wanted to do was run after you, but I'm not stupid. I knew your mind was made up."

"Where are you going with this?"

"You leaving was like a bucket of cold water," he continued. "It made me realise a lot of things - about how much I'd left myself go, mostly. I've stopped drinking and started going to therapy, and I have my work hours capped."

You smiled. "Well done, Steve. That's really great."

"I'm better now. Not fully, but...I'm getting there," Steve replied. "I asked Natasha to invite you tonight. She wanted to anyways but it was sort of my idea."

"Why?"

"So I could apologise, but mostly because I want you back in my life," he explained. "As friends, as something more. Hell, I'll take you as my enemy if it means I get to see you again."

You sighed, eyes falling to the ground. What could you even say to that? Enemies sounded pretty good - and definitely well deserved - but you didn't hate Steve. You'd moved on, but that didn't mean you'd lost all capability to love him.

"How do I know you won't do it again?" you asked.

"You don't," he replied. "I don't know that either, but what if it doesn't happen again? What if...what if things were really good?"

You glanced away, eyes staring at the distant Manhattan skyline for a moment. It glittered and glimmered, mostly rebuilt after the 2012 incident. You could see Stark Tower as well. Steve had told you he loved you for the first time on that roof top. Now, here he was, begging for you back on another.

"Friends," you muttered. "We can be friends. I don't know after that. I've waited six fucking months for you to decide that you love me again-"

" - I never stopped -"

" - not the point, Steve!" you cut him off. "We'll start with friends, then go from there."

"I'll wait ten years if I have to," he said. His smile suggested he was joking, but you knew he wasn't.

With that, Steve pulled you into a hug. In your soul, you knew you couldn't be friends. Enemies was worst but strangers was horrible too. The answer was inevitable, but you just had to make him wait a little while.

maybe a part 2?

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers #avengers x reader #avengers imagines #avengers fluff #avengers #marvel

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, graphic depictions of violence, dead bodies, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort, implied sexual content,

W/c: 8.6k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual after such a long wait. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. When i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

“I shot Minnie.”

It takes you a breath for the words to sink in. Standing in the bathroom in the half-grey darkness golden hallway light streaming in through the open door. It’s strange how inside of your body you feel at that moment.

That frantic fever urgency of your pulse, your breath, your everything when traumatic things are about to happen and when they’re happening.

For a moment you’re keenly aware of every molecule of your body. The tacky-sweet feeling of slick drying between your thighs, the cold smoothness of the slate tile beneath your feet, the too-long press of your fingernails as you grip the bathroom countertop to keep from falling to the tile floor. Everything in feverish detail.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the light from Yoongi’s phone screen illuminates your face in blue. You look at the mirror, then down at your hands.

Minnie, a gun.

A bullet, Jin.

Your brain is whirling. Putting two and two together is like putting together a recipe. Only now you have the result and have to backtrack. How did you get here? Jin keeps talking, word vomiting down the line, and you miss a few sentences while you’re trying to put it together.

Butter, cream, sugar.

You, Jin, Jimin.

Jimin.

You think you might vomit tiramisu all over the bathroom floor.

You close your eyes, thinking hard while Jin talks. His words run over themselves with worry. “I discharged my weapon if we go to the hospital- they’ll- they’ll know and I don’t know if I can cover this up with just lies-”

“Is he dead?” Your voice is lethal in its quiet, so quiet that you think it might not go through the phone. Jin doesn’t hear it- too preoccupied with his own terror.

You close your eyes, quietly begging anything or anyone who might be listening. If god is going to take so much from him- the least she can do is give jimin this. One simple measly miracle is all you're asking for.

“Jin- tell me right the fuck now- Is Jimin dead?”

“Pup.” Jin sounds like he’s just been strangled. Like all the wind has just been knocked out of him. “Put Yoongi on the line.”

“No.” You're shaking, your heartbeat in your ears louder than your lofty hopes. Hand digging into the counter so hard that you feel it in your bones. “No, not until you tell me right now- is Minnie-”

“Hey pup.” Jimin’s voice is a quiet croak. You sag against the countertop and slide to the floor. It’s barely a weak whisper on the other side of the line. You’re glad it’s not a video call. You’re not sure you could handle seeing him if he sounds so raw. “Minnie- Minnie are you? does Jin?”

Does Jin know?

Jin must have taken back the phone because- “I need you to go get Yoongi. Now. We can’t be here any longer than necessary.” there's the muffled sound of shuffling, of hair grating against the speaker. "We're vulnerable here, I don't know if more people will come."

You move, leaving the bathroom and thundering up the steep stairs to the bedroom. There's the distant sound of Hoseok in the kitchen probably putting away the tiramisu. You head for the nest, rushing, falling to your knees in front of it, phone pinned between your shoulder and your ear.

“Yoongi isn’t here. He’s with Jungkook and Tae and Namjoon.”

“Hang up then and I’ll call Namjoon.” You peel back the nest skirt to get under it, where Jimin keeps his gun cases. They're there in the shadows, three of them black and plastic. A photocopy of his concealed carry license is taped to each on top. No one had been particularly happy about him storing them there (Namjoon especially) But now you’re glad to have them close on hand.

“No, not until you tell me where you are.”

“Pup this isn’t- you can’t-”

“Jin, please.”

You try the same code that Jimin has for his cellphone. You know it because you have a habit of going through his after your dates for some of the photos that he takes of you and Tae.

8-7-5-8.

The box clicks open and you roll your eyes. Alphas.

“Pup” you wait for him to say that he needs more help than you can offer, that carrying Minnie and keeping him alive is more than you can help with. You wait for him to say that you’re neither strong enough mentally nor physically to handle this.

But it doesn’t come. Jin’s tiny fraught sigh is there, but then-

“Alright.”

There are spots for five different handguns inside. Two missing vacant cuts into the foam. You take the smallest one, checking stock to make sure it's got bullets in it. You fumble with it, unsure and unused to this. You make sure the safety is on before you tuck it into your waistband.

“Send me your address. And if you need to- get rid of Jimin's gun- god only knows whats on that.” To Jin’s credit, he hardly splutters, hardly takes in another shaky breath.

“How do you know-” You descend the stairs slower. Screwing your eyes shut tight to keep from crying, leashing your voice into something gentle.

“Jin, Minnie is bleeding. You have more important things to worry about right now. We need to figure out how to keep Jimin alive and undiscovered.”

“You know-”

“Yes, I fucking know about Jimin, okay? We’re wasting time. Bye.”

You hang up on him. Your hands are still shaking and you spend a breath looking at them. You want to call Yoongi. Your body aching for your mate's touch, for how steady he makes you feel just by being there. the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, the way his hand is always hovering near the small of your back to guide you- to options that won't hurt and secrets that won't damage things.

You need your mate for this, already your pulse is hammering. The haze of a panic attack on the edge of your vision. One second foggy fear, the next heartbreaking clarity.

Maybe you know how this ends, you know why this is happening even if you try and ignore it. Maybe you realize just then what's going to happen. Not today but eventually, it turns you cold from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You might not lie to the pack (lying by omission doesn't carry the same weight) but you lie to yourself often.

You will call Yoongi, you decide. You pick the phone back up and navigate towards Tae’s contact. Your thumb hovers between her name and Jungkook’s. You don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your voice steady calling her but Jungkook will almost certainly be able to tell something's wrong just from your tone alone. He's perceptive like that.

Before you can make the call something moves in your peripheries.

There is a dark figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from the front door and the bay window. It makes you startle but at second glance it’s just Hobi. You look down at him 3 steps up the stairs. Yoongi's phone in your hand and a gun at the small of your back, covered by the fluff of his sweatshirt.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask who you were talking on the phone with. He just tilts his in question, eyes teaming with that warm sort of playfulness.

You have a decision to make; let his opinion of the pack remain what it is or change it for good. In an irrevocable way that you won't be able to take back. It feels like too much change too quickly. Barely an hour ago he was telling you he loves you and now-

The thing about secrets is that they’re terribly hard to keep.

Hobi notices, because Hobi always notices when there’s some sort of change in you or a shift in your mood- call it a survival instinct if you won't call it love.

The set of your jaw is less pouty neediness and more leashed discomfort. Your expression is the same one you had when tae came out and you sat with them at the table and told them for you. You'd think that telling other people's secrets would be easier but it isn't.

Hobi knows your tells. What it looks like when you're about to play your hand. Ace's and all.

You descend the last few steps, each one thudding, making sure you're on the same level before you slowly wrap your arms around his waist. You do it slow even though you feel every second like a gunshot wound. Like every second could be Jimin’s last heartbeat.

(thump thump thump)

Pulling yourself in tight. His hands smooth up and down your back. You could call Yoongi but-

Hobi looks down at you, pecking your forehead. He smiles softly, his lips twisting into something like a grimace because you smell a little bit sour. Doesn't mean he's not going to kiss you but-

You wonder how many times he’s kissed you already, it's only been a day but you’re already losing track of how many, maybe 2 dozen now. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes then back again.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to pout at me until I go get Yoongi?”

You shake your head and close your eyes hard. "Don't get Yoongi."

Stealing yourself just a little and hold Hobi a little closer, a little harder. But there’s nothing you can say, no lie that you can tell that will make this better. No secret that you could confess either.

“Jin called and something bad has happened.”

You feel more than see the goosebumps on Hobi’s arms as you pull away, the visceral hard swallow as he looks at your face again, waits, expecting you to pull back say-“It’s a joke it’s nothing-“ But it doesn't come.

“You have two choices Hobi, you can go to the pizza shop, and hang out with Tae and Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi or-” Hobi searches your face for something he knows; the darkness in your eyes, the vague tremble in your arms around his waist. “Or you can help me and be scared. I kind of-”

I kind of need you

But Hobi should have agency in this and shouldn't just take this path because of you. After Yoongi, you've learned when and where to give people the choice to be dragged into things they'd be better off sidestepping. You don't say it but Hobi hears it all the same.

Hobi looks so earnest but asking this of him is no easy thing. It would be easier if you weren’t so keenly aware that you’re taking away something from him. You’re giving Hobi the choice you never got that Yoongi never got, and he'll choose the same path anyway.

He cups your face, skimming his thumb up and down your cheek.“I’m okay with being scared.” I'm okay with being scared so long as it's for you.

“This is serious, this is- you can’t ask questions until I have time to answer them, you just have to listen, understand?”

“Okay.” He nods, tousled hair fluffing, looking so innocent and eager to please that you almost tell him to just stay home.

But as much as you hate to admit it. If Jimin is injured, there’s a chance you and Jin might need a second pair of hands.

It’s a blur. Tugging on your shoes- the same ones Yoongi got you ages ago for your first date with Jimin and Tae. And when you stand, he’s holding out your jacket for you to step into. When you nuzzle into the collar there's the scent of vanilla there from where Jimin rubbed his nose to your throat when you were at the hospital. It doesn't seem possible that it was only yesterday. Everything is Jimin Jimin Jimin.

“Thank you,” you say, sounding vaguely hollow. He kisses the nape of your neck and you put your hand over it.

You point your feet in the direction of Hobi’s car and get in the driver's seat. Taking his keys from him because you need them, need to be the one who drives right now. Holding the steering wheel and controlling the acceleration. Pressing down as fast as a heartbeat.

Thumpthumpthump.

You pull away from the house with a screech hitting the curb with a bit of flying sparks. you don't even wait for it to warm up. Hobi’s hands are on the plastic console of the driver’s side, holding it to keep himself from bobbing before he's belted in. He looks over at you startled. But he doesn't ask you to slow down.

You keep your eyes on the road, blinking back tears. Controlling your emotions because you can’t drive through blurry eyes. Every inch, every tick of the needle, every second of pavement screeching tire means you're a second closer to jimin.

"Jin’s going to send you an address in a few seconds, and I need you to tell me which way to turn.”

Hobi looks at you and then looks at the phone. He doesn’t try to put on a playlist, he doesn’t try to do anything just stares at you and bobbs in his seat when you take a corner too fast.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Nothing; you’re just driving like if we don’t get there in time, someone is going to die.”

~-~

Hoseok remains remarkably calm for the drive, barely saying anything except for the winces he lets out every time you do something risky with the car like take turns at 30 miles an hour or evade a break check by driving along the shoulder.

You start to pass by empty factory buildings. The wheels of his car thudding over cracks and dips in the road until it becomes dust and gravel and the smell of gasoline permeates the interior of the car. Questions building like the heat pumping from the vents.

But he did promise not to ask until later.

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old street lamp lights punctuate the darkness. Husks of metal rise like soldiers from the shadows. The sky burning rust orange from the distant lights of the city. Not a single star in sight.

Jin’s car is there; Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as the car's lights roll over it. Jimin's car is another 50 feet away and buried in the darkness. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine across a narrow tributary casting everything; the river and the buildings, into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in car tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out.

"Hobi, sink or swim?"

He looks down at the gun in your hand, "Swim." You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him but you don’t waste another second arguing. You head off following the disturbed dust and Hobi trails behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe from larger questions he should have been asking.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be? The only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin. But the way you walk; completely silent is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly. It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger, your index finger balanced along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Yoongi. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? Hobi had almost forgotten about it.

There are some things that you never forget. Trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you; you say nothing.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you.

Jimin is sitting in one of the puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet bereft when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway. Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!”

you run to him, tucking the gun back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding wet-dark fabric. Not water but blood.

Hobi stays there in the doorway, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor.

Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, and Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek. "Hey- wake up for me a sec okay? We're gonna get you out of here-"

“Hey pup” he laughs half delirious with pain, wincing like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs. "Did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed and his pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her I’m sorry. Could you tell her for me?”

This is something Tied tourniquet tight around Jimin’s shoulder to keep him from bleeding out. something you didn't immediately notice. You stare down at the vest now- at the yellow patch letters slowly darkening with blood.

FBI, and then in smaller letters; Organized crime division, Dir. Kim.

Jin appears from around the corner, covered in dust and blood across his thighs, and his throat. So quick you barely have time to raise the gun and then put it down when you see it's not some stranger- someone sent from Yoongi's family to tie up loose ends.

Your hand tightens on the gun as you stare at Jin.

The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his forearms and black nitrile gloves cover his hands; same as Jimin's- although one is ripped. His eyes flick from you to Hobi and he almost flinches.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Jin looks back at you. “Did you have to tell Hobi?”

You bristle “I didn’t tell him anything yet. That’s how you properly protect people. Instead of you know-” The insult doesn’t make sense and neither does your anger. Jin is your pack omega but it doesn’t feel like it when you grab his lapel and shake him a little. He doesn’t move, You’re too slight to alter his course.

Hobi stumbles to your side, hand on your shoulder and Jin's. The pack omega almost flinches at the touch.

“Will both of you swallow your god damn pride and-”

The three of you fall silent when Jimin reaches up to grab your thigh.

Jimin's hand on your wrist goes vice-tight, and when you look down at him, he's more lucid. More there through the haze of pain and blood. "If anyone has any right to be mad at Jinnie- it's me."

You stare Jin down, and after a breath, he's the one who looks away from your glare, taking your hands from his coat and gently detangling them.

"Let's just get him to the fucking car." You bite out. And you get back on your knees to gently guide Jimin away from leaning up against the metal. Get your hand around Jimin’s good arm and start to try and tug him to his feet. His eyes follow you fever bright. “Tell Tae that yourself when we get you out of here.”

the three of you get jimin on his feet. Jin under his good shoulder and Hobi by his hip you there, grabbing Jimin's gun and the mask from the ground. Hobi almost trips on a piece of metal.

He’s being so good with this so- so normal. Making pregnant and stressed eye contact with you when you look at him but stay mostly silent.

Jimin’s car keys fall onto the dusty earth just as you get to Hobi’s. placing jimin gently into the backseat before you stop to pick them up.

“My car; they can’t find it here.” You glance at Jin, then Hobi, looking grey.

“Someone needs to be in the back of the car to stabilize you. you can’t just be flopping around when we drive to the-” You break off because oh this just got so much worse; there’s no way that Jimin’s going to be able to go to the hospital. Even with injuries like this.

You make eye contact with Jin again, and both of you realize at the same time, the mountain of evidence that must be inside it, but you're only the three of you- if you take Jimin's car and Hobi takes his and Jin takes his own- no one will be there to hold Minnie and keep him stable. But who knows when you'll have a chance to come back and get Jimin's car.

If the authorities find his car and the body still inside that building. There's no shortage of what they might be able to convict Jimin for. If there was ever a time that you needed another person it would be right now. You should have called Yoongi.

You look up at Jin, “Get rid of it, we just have to-”

“The river-” You stand there, two opposite sides of the same coin both grinning because it's a good plan.

“If we sink it, they’ll never find it.”

A couple of miles away where the floodlights shine, they must knock over something large because you hear the boom and feel the tremble in the earth.

You take everything out of the car first, throwing it into the front seat of Hobi's car. Hobi tries not to think about the items too hard. The sniper rifle, the 3 bulletproof vests, or the ski mask. There's a variety of other equipment underneath the false bottom, arranged perfectly, everything has its spot. An empty tranquilizer gun. Ropes and black trash bags.

The three of you work like a polished team. Moving the car as close as you can to the water Near an old dry dock that flooded, where the soil turns soft and spongy.

It’s hard to push even though you put the car in neutral. the three of you still have to put all your weight into it. Jimin waits in Hobi’s car, parked on the edge. Watching your sluggish procession.

“Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.”

“Shut up you are not going to die” You snap. The line of the doorframe digs into your shoulder as you push with all your might, putting all of your anger and betrayal behind it because it has nowhere to go otherwise.

Jimin really isn’t helping. Hand pressed over his bullet wound, blood slowly dripping from between his fingers.

Your feet fight against the muck, sliding through it, cold and gross around your ankles. Water soaks your socks.

“Seriously I’m bleeding all over the interior. gonna have to get it detailed after i'm gone.” Hobi picks his head up from the other side, grinning at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve even felt a ghost of a smile grace your face since you got the call. He has no idea how much you need that smile.

“It’s red, won’t stain. Don't worry minnie.”

“Your concern for me is glowing.” He's smiling but Jimin’s hand is knuckle-tight over his shoulder.

“Shut up.” you grind out.

Once you get going downhill it’s easy to push the car, down down down until you hit the muck, knee-deep in the fowl-smelling stuff. You walk with it into the icy water. Hobi’s sweatshirt is so big on you and it billows around you in the brackish water. Weighing you down like an anchor in a storm. You guide the car and the cold water is up to your waist. The car thuds and then shudders, bubbling as you get it deeper and deeper.

"That should be good. Come on."

You think you’re fine until you try to pull away from the side of the car and can’t.

Hobi is already cutting through the water back towards the shore, his back to you. You can’t move, and the car is sinking inch by inch. Slowly dragging you along with it. Some corner of your sweatshirt snagged on the doorframe or hooked.

Your hands move scrabbling. Trying to find the spot at your hip where you’re caught. But you can’t see, the water is so dark you can't even see your hands below the surface. Is it terror or just the cold that makes your hands so uncooperative?

You haven’t even had time to cry out before there is a body behind you, hand closing around the spot where you’re snagged under the water, ripping the fabric with strong hands.

Jin’s hands don’t leave you once he’s untangled you, grabbing your hips and dragging you back, back through the mud and up to the embankment. His hand on the back of your neck, “I’ve got you pup, you’re okay, you’re fine.”

Hobi’s already standing up there, soaking wet too. The dust pills on your pant legs and behind you, the car gives one last gurgle. Disappearing for good.

In the dusty darkness, you look at Jin. His gaunt face, soaked with muck like you are. The ends of his hair clumped together, muddy. You blink up at him and he blinks down at you, water in his eyes.

Jimin and Hobi wait, watching you both stand there. Suddenly the gun in your waistband feels too heavy to carry any longer.

Jin closes his eyes, screwing them shut tight like he's waiting for you to shove him again. “Before you yell at me, you should know that Yoongi already knows, about me being an FBI agent. He's known since the beginning."

there is a moment of silence where hobi looks from you to jin. But then You collide with Jin burying your face in the front of his shirt. He swallows past the lump in his throat. One bloody hand comes up to touch your hair and cradle the back of your head.

“Pup- we don’t have time, we have to go. Minnie-” You pull back, eyes wet.

“Alright- alright- just- we’ll meet you at home?”

Jin turns to Hobi, nodding. Hoseok stoops, putting Jimin's legs in the back of the car, they're shaking. All of Jimin is shaking. His body is in shock from losing so much blood and from the cold.

“Don’t speed, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull you over.”

~-~

(Namjoon.)

The inside of the pizza parlor is balmy with the smell of cooking dough, garlic, parmesan cheese, and Jungkook's happy sunny scent. So at odds with the cold outside.

Namjoon watches Tae and Jungkook giggle and act like pups. Heart clenching the way it always does when he looks at the pack. They smell like roses and honey, like spring days far away now in winter but Namjoon can already feel the spring warmth thawing his tiredness left over from work. A haze to the edge of his vision like he's feeling bumble-bee fluff and sucking honey from the air.

Hope is hot and necessary like sunlight, and Namjoon has a whole lot of it for the future right now. and good for him honestly- it's the last easy breathes he's going to have for a good long while.

He can't believe it. You and Hobi. His body gives an involuntary happy shiver.

Yoongi catches it and raises a knowing eyebrow.

The pack is willing to wait here and give you and Hobi a little more time to sort things out. They've given you hours, they'll give maybe one more. They've already taken Tae and Jungkook out for ice cream. Dessert before dinner has both of them sugar high and hyper.

The pizza parlor is mostly empty- there are no glares or looks as they laugh loud and try to imitate a dance, jungkook's phone propped up on a napkin holder.

Namjoon and yoongi don't join in, they just stare at each other. Yoongi looks like he might be a little bit in shock, the scent blooming every few seconds, sweet chocolate cocoa when he thinks of it, and salty worry when he reaches over to check Tae's phone- just to see if you've texted.

Namjoon knows, and so does Jungkook because Jungkook knows everything.

“I can’t believe they actually-” Jungkook snorts, this isn’t the first time Yoongi’s repeated those words, he’s been muttering it under his breath every few minutes for the last few hours, mostly to himself. Jungkook indulges him this time.

“I know- I thought they’d be emotionally constipated for at least another month.”

Jungkook’s hand is nearly permanently glued to the back of Yoongi’s neck, squeezing reassuringly every few seconds. Even as he and Tae giggle and fall into each other, watching back their video on Tae’s phone. Her sparkly phone case catches the light, and little bits of glitter fall and trickle slowly just like the snow falling outside.

Namjoon's thoughts slush slowly.

Namjoon feels settled down to his bones, in that deep-seated alpha way that he’s not sure he’d be able to articulate even if he tried. Nesting tonight is gonna hit so fucking well. Namjoon is going to scent both you and Hobi until he can feel the sex and pleasure on his teeth and tongue, might just need to taste your arousal for himself. He'll be sweet about it and give you a little wiggle room just to put you back in your places. He feels half feral wanting it already. If he's not careful a scenting like that might send Hobi into rut or you into heat.

Namjoon's almost trembling at the idea of it.

God fucking damn it, he's so in love it hurts a little. He’s sure that Yoongi feels the same deep calmness, the sense of rightness, thinking about you and Hobi.

Yoongi’s lopsided grin says It finally fucking happened. Namjoon’s dimpled smile says, I know, I’m surprised we didn’t have to orchestrate it. They don’t have to say it, the soft words would be swallowed up under the music playing over the loudspeaker (the idol group that Jimin guards- their newest hit).

Their knees are nested between each other’s on the too-small table and too-small seats. Namjoon’s big palm on Yoongi’s knee all tight. His hand over the pack alphas, tangling and playing together in a way that Jin would call flirting without words and Tae might call poetic.

The pack took one car to the pizza place, Namjoon's, gathering snow outside. Probably a bad move honestly because Namjoon is on call. The surgery this morning went off without a hitch, clipping aneurysms on a middle-aged alpha usually goes off without a hitch because Namjoon is quite good at his job. If anything happens post-op Namjoon will have to leave them stranded here.

As Namjoon watches something crosses Yoongi’s face that looks a bit like confusion, his hand leaves Namjoon’s to settle on his hip. Eyebrows pulling together.

Huh? Is it the mating mark?

Their food has just arrived, cauliflower pizza for Jungkook, a messy calzone for Yoongi, and his own meat-filled slice when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Namjoon smiles seeing Hobi’s contact, and answers it. It’s you on the line when he picks up.

“Whatever you do, don’t put me on speaker. Don’t react. Just go somewhere where you won’t be overheard by anyone.” Namjoon's smile falls instantly.

Something about your tone has goosebumps rising on his arms. inexplicable, whether it's instincts or just the fact that Namjoon knows your voice and has never heard you sound like this that tips him off he's not sure.

You’re in the back of Hobi’s car, Jimin sprawled across your lap, your fingers stroking down his cheek, your other hand putting pressure on his bullet wound. Jimin lets out these little hiccupping breaths and in the front seat, Hobi’s eyes flick to the two of you. Your pause your call to soothe him, letting him inhale big settling breaths of your scent. Nose and mouth pressed hard to your wrist. Teeth biting down because Jimin needs something to muffle his pained growl.

"Just hold on Minnie, I know it hurts. We’re almost back to the house."

Namjoon hears it, and his whole body goes cold.

You can say many things about the pack, about pack alphas and pack omegas, but listening goes both ways. Namjoon would never dream of disobeying you when you talk like this. Namjoon stands and walks to the door mechanically. Only when he’s outside, cold air swirling around him, does he speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s happened," Namjoon closes his eyes "-and I need you not to tell the others. I need you to come home and leave Jungkook and Tae. Jimin's hurt and we need you.”

Namjoon feels the moment the tense breath in his chest sticks there and he realizes you’re not joking. Jungkook looks up, furrowing his eyebrows at Namjoon in the dark window. The snowflakes falling catch the lamplight around him, dotting his red sweatshirt like the reverse of blood on snow.

There’s a pause and then, “There’s a lot you don’t know, but I need you to hurry.”

Namjoon nods then pauses when he realizes you can’t see. He’s not sure he’s ever heard you sound so serious.

“Do you understand why I’m asking you this Namjoon?”

Namjoon has always been an honest alpha, even when it doesn’t stroke his ego. “No.”

“Because if Tae sees what’s happening, she’s going to need someone to comfort her, and everyone needs to be focused on mini right now.” Your voice trembles, breaking. Below you, Jimin smiles, leaning into your arm. Babbling little and delirious from pain and blood loss.

“Love you so much Tae- wanna be your mate- wanna marry you too if y/n lets me- wanna have your pups."

"Jimin. You are an alpha. You can't get pregnant." Hobi says dryly from the driver's seat, making a very careful left turn that's so slow that it garners a honk from the people behind him.

"But Tae could at least try-"

You close your eyes against the lights of the highway, and across your lap you feel wet soaking into your pant legs. You don't look down, You know it’s blood. It’s so warm, spilling across your knees like sunshine. Bubbling up with every heartbeat.

You don’t know how much more blood Jimin can lose before it’s critical, which is why you need Namjoon.

“-And if Jungkook finds out the stress could make him have a seizure.”

Namjoon is silent on the other end of the line. Completely quiet. Frozen on the sidewalk outside of the pizza place. Above him, the pastel blue pizzeria sign buzzes and flickers. Namjoon inhales the cold air, his exhale coming out warm and steamy visible. When he turns to look inside Yoongi is already staring.

Namjoon must look devastated because Yoongi shoots to his feet. Saying something to the others before he heads out after Namjoon. The bell clinging until he's right there reaching for the phone.

“I’ll see you at home.” You shut your eyes tight. “Bring Yoongi too. I need him.”

The phone in Namjoon’s hands buzzes and when he looks the call has disconnected.

~-~

It's a good thing that most of the snow has melted off or else you’d have a harder time concealing Jimin’s bleeding form as you pull into the driveway. You’re barely outside for a handful of seconds. No curtains move in the shuttered windows of your neighbors. No one is in the cul-de-sac, not even Noodle is waiting for you on the rock wall.

There is no red trail in the snow, just a few drops that land on the dark slate walkway that you’ll clean up before morning. The porch light is off and Your hand leaves a dark imprint on the railing as you rush to open the door for Jin and Hobi, supporting Jimin between the two of them.

But the door opens before you can get to it.

"Joonie!” Jimin's tone drips with false cheer, grinning at the pack alpha and your mate standing just inside the house. As Jin and hobi half drag and half carry Jimin inside and out of sight. Blood dripps down the side of his face from his temple to his chin.

“Holy fuck” your mate mutters. Out of Jin and Hobi and you- you easily have the most blood on yourself. Your pants are soaked through with it and muck from the river, even your hair feels wet and sticky. You must certainly look like a sight, like something out of a nightmare or a bad memory- yoongi can take his pick.

(In truth, the sight of you blood soaked brings up only one other night in yoongi's memory; a night just as tense and pain filled as this. the night you killed Geumjae. This won't be the last time Yoongi sees you soaked in blood either. But at least next time the blood you'll wear won't be the packs and you'll be wearing it as a king and not a pawn).

The drive must have truly taken a toll on him because the second the door closes behind you Jimin’s knees give out and his eyes roll back, passing out as the last bit of energy vanishes from his body. Hobi almost falls with him, but Namjoon and Yoongi are quick to come to his aid.

“Quick- the table.”

Yoongi clears the dining room table with a simple swipe of his hands, sending the bowl of tangerines scattering, rolling like many mini suns across the hardwood floor. They put him down as gently as they can, but Jimin's a puppet with his strings cut. Namjoon swoops in, more trained than any of you, grabbing Jimin’s ankles and holding them up above his heart.

"Come on- Minnie- come on " Namjoon reaches over to tap Jimin’s cheek, gentle once and harder the second time, more of a true slap. Jimin gasps awake, but he’s only half conscious. It’s twilight, his eyelashes fluttering face pale. Mumbling Tae's name over and over again.

"Jin, hold his legs up for me- here"

You’ve never seen Namjoon move so mechanically, so professionally. He's already wearing sterile gloves. His black doctor’s bag cracked open and full of gauze and other medical paraphernalia. The skin around the bullet wound is pinched with blood. Gushing fresh as Namjoon cuts away as much of the tourniquet as he dares with a pair of kitchen shears.

Jimin’s head lolls to the side.

Namjoon lets out a single wet noise. You haven’t heard him cry in so long, you don’t realize that’s what it is until you look at his face.

Your mate’s face is pale and gaunt as he looks at you over the dining room table. “Didn’t you tell him anything?”

“No- I wasn’t sure what to say, I-” Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to Minnie, then up at Jin who looks like he might be about to pass out himself. Holding himself away.

“Who shot him? Did someone corner you? Jin-”

Jin lifts his chin about to confess but before he can Namjoon snaps “Everyone needs to be quiet- please.”

Namjoon places his stethoscope oh so gently to jimin's skin Even the slight action makes Jimin’s face twist in pain. The whole pack is quiet and still, like statues.

The moment passes syrup slow, And Namjoon moves his stethoscope an inch to the left, then the right. Only then does he toss it down onto the floor. Grabbing a sterile towel from his medicine bag and presses it hard over the bullet wound. Closing his eyes and grimacing before he stuffs it, fingers and all into the bullet wound.

Jimin jerks violently, howling, nearly thrashing in pain if it weren’t for Namjoon and Yoongi and you holding him down. He flails, hitting you in the face knocking you back.

Hobi catches you before you fall. “I’m fine, it’s okay just- help them hold Minnie" your hand over your hot cheek. It will probably bruise- but you don't even care as you watch as Namjoon pulls himself onto the kitchen table, putting his full body weight over the bullet wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“He needs a hospital. We need to pack it and then take him there. He’s lost too much blood.”

"We can’t- all bullet wounds need to be mandated reported.”

It’s not all that large of a hole to be honest. Maybe a finger with on the back side and a little smaller at Jimin's front because Jin shot Jimin at such close range. It’s a threw and threw. Even though Namjoon packed the front his back still leaks steadily.

“But Jimin will live, whatever’s going on-” Namjoon shares a glace with Yoongi Jin, then you- and you watch as it dawns on him. “wait- You do know what’s going on, theres something you're not telling me.”

It's accusatory but you nod while Jin and Yoongi stay placid. Namjoon looks once at Jin again then at you, deciding who he trusts more to correctly gauge the odds.

Namjoon looks at you, waiting.

“If the wrong people find out Jiminie is- that he’s-” you pause, and Jimin grimaces, there is blood on his teeth, in his mouth. “It might not just be him hurt by the end of it.”

“But we can’t just let him die.”

Hobi just stands by the couch, your nest just tousled as you’d left it what feels like a lifetime ago. for the first time that night- hobi breaks.

"Oh my god Jimin's going to die-"

Jin's hands are in his hair, yanking, "Tae is going to kill me-"

“Shut up, no one is dying yet. If he dies on us I’ll kill him myself.” you scoff, holding Jimin’s wrist, his hand. “I won’t even bother with a gun I’ll just..."

You fall silent with a sudden intake of breath. Yoongi's head whips in your direction. Jin too looks up from where he was just bowed, realization lighting his eyes up bright.

The three of you share a look and for a second, the only sound is Jimin's blood dripping. A little faster with every heartbeat. Down the leg of the kitchen table onto the floor in red rivulets.

Drip drip drip.

(What you don’t know about Jin and Yoongi’s tentative agreement is that even though they know about each other- they've still been on either side of this. They’ve never worked with each other, never shared querying glances like this. It's a special secret language that thieves and secret killers share.)

Yoongi follows your line of sight to the kitchen. The knives sit sheathed in the knife block. The same ones that he bought Jin as a fancy courting present years ago. The same one's Yoongi sharpens before he cuts the meat that the pack eats for samgyeopsal and bulgogi and shabushabu.

A sharp cut is an easy cut to fix, unlike a blown-apart cavernous bullet wound.

“No.” Is your first reaction. Even though it was your idea. “It’s too dangerous.”

"It won't work." is Jin's response. Namjoon glances from you to him. He hasn't yet realized what you're talking about. doesn't posess the same finess for bloodshed that the three of you do (the three of you could conquer the world, you just haven't' realized it yet)

"It will work." Yoongi straightens. there are whispers of darkness on yoongi's face. a childhood he doesn't talk about in his eyes. a childhood filled of blood and less kindness than you'd think; for it to have made a man like yoongi; who knows how to be gentle because he's felt every kind of unplesantness there is.

"I've seen it done before. A long time ago but still- it works."

“What,” Namjoon snaps. "Are you guys fucking talking about?"

“There’s another option.” Yoongi’s hands are on Jimin, holding his wrists down. his other hand tucking his hair behind his ears and kissing his bloody cheek. His hands are getting colder and there isn’t much time. He’s quiet for a moment, lips pressed to jimin's skin, before he looks up. None of you want to say what you’re thinking.

“A good stab wound with a larger knife, through and through will disguise the bullet wound. It will stop him from bleeding any more. No one will know that Jimin was shot and we can take him to the hospital."

Namjoon’s scent is sour, sour, and acrid and it makes Jimin arch in pain, face twisted. He still doesn't understand why no one must know that Jimin was shot. Still doesn't understand that it was Jin who shot him. He'll learn later over hospital coffee but for now, he misses the blood-soaked and cut up FBI vest laying in a heap on your dining room floor. No yellow left on it- just red.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m not letting anyone stab anybody."

Jimin’s head lolls on the table. His mumbled words fall on deaf ears. “Stab away….might as well…already stabbed through the fucking heart from Tae" (how could Cupid be so cruel?)

"Joonie look at me." Your hand is on Namjoon’s arm, his shoulder, the back of his neck and he rounds on you. Alpha aggression striking before Namjoon can reign in his instincts. He almost snaps his teeth at you. You don't react at the alpha baring his teeth in your face because underneath it all is the panic of a child, a pup who's terrified he's about to lose his family (a sinking feeling in his gut that says maybe, he already has.)

You understand, you know what it's like to feel that way.

Your voice is so calm and gentle. “Namjoon- you just have to trust me. If we take Jimin to the hospital and if they have a reason to take his fingerprints. There is a very good chance Minnie will go to prison. That I will go to prison- that Yoongi will too.”

Jin blinks, eyelashes fluttering. And Namjoon is silent, Hobi's silent too. All of them watching you. Your hands are steady, and your eyes are clear. The clearest they've ever seen.

“There is a lot we haven’t told you. But you need to trust me.”

It’s then that he spots it. Yoongi’s tone is dark as he yanks the wooden mask out of Hoseok's hands. Yoongi would know those masks anywhere; the one that the family gives its employees. This specific type is to delineate a non-relative. The specific kind is the mask that killers wear.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

You look up at him, “it’s Minnie’s.”

Yoongi’s chest heaves, breath coming quick and fast. “No, it’s not- it can’t be.”

Namjoon’s teeth look particularly sharp when he snaps. “Does anyone but me give a fuck about Jimin right now? Or do you guys only want to pretend that you do?” The rest of the pack watches Namjoon as he ties a new tourniquet. A better one. he can't meet your eyes. quiet and furious as he pulls the knot tight.

“There are too many ligaments in Jimin’s arm, you could cripple him.”

“What other choice do we have?"

“So thats it?” your voice is a shred past hysterical, “we just take him to the hospital and let him go to jail, or let him bleed out and die here?”

The four of you stand over Jimin, on the kitchen table, the spot where you’ve eaten dinner and broken bread and loved each other for the last year. A place of nourishment and love now a place of pain and terror.

You walk three strides to the kitchen and grab the largest steak knife from the kitchen block. Your eyes dark and determined as you stare them down.

"I'll do it if you won't! I'm not letting Jimin go to prison!" you blink tears out of your eyes and there is a moment of silence, a moment where everyone just looks at you.

There is a warm body at your back, a strong chest and long arms that you know circling your waist to pull you back against them. Rubbing soft down your stomach as another comes up to guide your hand. long fingers that curl around your small fist. Grabbing the knife and guiding it, syrup slow out of your grasp.

"There we go" hobi says, words whisper soft.

It's like his words break the spell. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.” namjoon snaps.

Namjoon holds the knife and everyone watches as he walks to the pack's liquor cabinet. grabbing the nearest highest proof bottle that he can find and pouring it over the kitchen blade.

“If anyone’s going to do it, it should be me, because I know where Jimin’s joint is.” The pack nods, agreeing. Scattering.

You toss a rag to Jin. “Wipe the gunshot residue from your hands before we get to the hospital. Wipe Jimin’s too while you’re at it. Just in case.”

Namjoon holds the knife in the kitchen. You all have some amount of Jimin’s blood on you and he blinks from the table lucid.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, staring down at Jimin, knife in his hand. “Go outside and warm up the car. You’ll drive because you have the steadiest hands besides me.”

You and Jin and Hobi are silent, everyone just watches namjoon for a second. Yoongi hesitates, turning back in the doorway. "Do it from behind that way Jimin can say he didn't see who stabbed him."

Namjoon nods, looking down.

There is Jimin’s blood on the doorknob and the floor. You wonder who’s going to clean it up.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, and your mate starts, running out the door, leaving it open so that the cold can slip in. Namjoon’s hand tightens on the knife.

Jimin grins up at him from the table, eyelashes fluttering.

"Do it."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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~-~

Notes:

the line "A faceless god, if you’re going to take so much from him- the least you can do is give me this." is a call back to a line all the way in the beginning of the series where tae writes "the least you could have done was leave me whole" about yoongi.

the beginning feels a little drawn out but honestly i feel like it's such a traumatizing moment that it makes sense. the beginning was one of those cases that i read it so many times i can't tell if its ass or gas- so it's up for you to decide. i like the later parts of the chapter a lot better.

All things said, hobi is taking this incredibly well.

I was such a sleepy bunny editing this this morning! i'm sorry if there are more errors than usual.

ooh they fighting~ this might be a little bit of a /oh shit/ confession- but i greatly belived that the m/c would have killed jin had she thought that he was actually trying to kill jimin for being involved with the mafia like- one wrong move on his part and she might have shot him. they're gonna forget about it and nothing will change between them but god- that moment where he comes around the corner could have gone so bad if she was a little more trigger happy.

honestly i started to hate this chapter halfway through editing it, if there was ever one that i needed you to show love to its this one god 😮‍💨 i never thought i'd feel out of practice writing this sort of thing.

are the funny parts out of place? do they break up the terror too much or just the right amount?

I cannot take credit for the methodology behind how they hide jimin's bullet wound. i will confess this is copied from an episode of Elementary- ie the american version of sherlock. i tried to look it up if you could possibly conceal bullet wounds this way and didn't find anything so you're just gonna have to trust me.

#bts mafia au #bts omegaverse au #bts polyamory au #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts werewolf fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #omega! reader #bts a/b/o au #bts a/b/o #bts gang au #bts au #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #bts fanfic

[heluvaku]

HELUVAKINKTOBER: DAY 3 - BUKAKKE.

A Chuuya Nakahara | BSD x Female Reader Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut , bukakke , sex toys , mutual masturbation , degradation , praise if you squint , overstim if you get a magnifying glass , dazai mention (you can't escape him) , minor crack , nowhere near proofread , it's 1 AM on a school night please don't mind errors.. , etc .

author's note ; girl i feel so dumb. like mid fic writing i re-looked up bukakke and found out it was MULTIPLE MEN cumming on someone's face when i couldve sworn it was just one person. IM SO EMBARRASSED. but anyways.. i'm half awake, if this is horribly written, i'm sorry, and if you find it funny, thank you. i'm funniest when I'm sleep deprived.

heluvakinktober 2023 m.list .

“Fuck yeah, Doll. Touch yourself just like that..”

Chuuya moaned, leaning back into the cool leather of his office chair. You continued to ride the Dildo under his desk, rubbing tight circles on your puffy clit as the Executive before you stroked his length right before your eyes. His strokes were languid, almost teasing. You felt your mouth and pussy moisten at the sight of pre-cum coating the tip of Chuuya’s penis, the warm lighting of his small lamp making it shine beautifully.

He taps his cock on your right cheek, chuckling as a sticky ‘plap’ sound is heard in the obnoxiously silent room. You were fighting your thoughts — the urge to wipe the wet feeling off your cheek and lick it up, finally getting a taste of the redhead on your tongue. Chuuya interrupted your thoughts immediately, as if he were an empath.

“If you move your hands anywhere other than that pretty pussy of yours, there will be some punishments; and I don’t think you want that. Do ya, love?” Chuuya asked. His tone was insincere, shamelessly mocking you with a wide smile plastered on his annoying face. You wanted to retort, but god, were his reprimands attractive. You whine out a defeated ‘No’, sighing as a boisterous laugh rang in your ears. “Good girl. Now ‌keep bouncing f’me.”

Jackass. There was absolutely no wonder why that Dazai fucker hated his guts; who would like this son of a bitch?

That’s what your mind said. Your body, however, quaked for him. Your pussy pleaded for Chuuya’s dick, fingers, tongue, anything other than the cheap plastic he had made you ride. It was pathetically obvious, too, the once pristine tiled floors now coated in a pool of your slick. You wished for Chuuya's sick and twisted game to end, for him to fold you in half and have sex with you until you were senseless—

You hadn’t noticed how sensitive you made yourself while you were fantasizing about Chuuya like a schoolgirl, your clit raw and cunt mush from how hard you pleased yourself. You could’ve cummed just now and you wouldn’t be aware of it. But you couldn’t stop. Your body wouldn’t let you, not after the gorgeous sight before your very eyes.

Chuuya looked disheveled. He leaned all the way back in his chair, his hands tangling in his copper locks as his chest heaved while staring down at you. His moans got louder, louder, and louder, sure to worry anyone that so passed by the Executive’s office. Your gut was put on a spin cycle, the tight feeling in your abdomen returning for the umpteenth time that evening. You flicked, spun, and rubbed your clit as quickly as you could without it hurting, until his left, gloved hand gripped you by the hair and pulled your hair back.

“Open your fucking mouth, baby. I’m gonna glaze you so goddamn much you’d qualify as a fuckin’ donut — Oh, fuck..” the Executive groans. His words were so quick, you could barely understand his sentences. But words hadn’t been the reason for your nearing climax, no. How he handled you so roughly, the way he spoke to your quivering body. It was all too much to handle and process; soon enough, you’d reach the peak of your arousal.

It did. It hit you like a bullet train.

Thick, creamy white globs gushed around the dildo as you clenched around it, moaning out Chuuya’s name as if it was he you were riding like Paul-fucking-Revere. The redhead curses your name, visibly close to his own arrival. You could count how many times his cock twitched before he came; it was almost like everything was in slow motion.

One.

“FUCK.. Take it all, bitch, I want every drop of my cum on your face..”

Two.

“You’re gonna look like such a slut after all this.. I’ll take so many pictures of you just like this and — Shit!”

Three.

And your vision goes black. Well, white.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

#⁺˚⋆✩₊ heluvaku works . #⛧ heluvakinktober . #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x reader smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader smut #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader smut

[cowgurrrl]

darlin’ i’d wait for you

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: Inspired by my real life love for my godchildren. Mis almas, no hay nadie que ame más que tú. Gracias por elegirme.

Summary: “Ten fingers. Ten toes. And even if you had none of them, you’d still be the grandest thing I’ve ever seen.” - Emily Henry, Beach Read aka you and Joel have a baby [3.0k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of labor and delivery (nothing graphic), swearing, lots of emotions, fluff

"You need to be resting!" Maria says as you pace the living room with your hands on your hips. Ellie is watching you move from her space in the kitchen, her knee bouncing with anxiety as she sits there. 

"You need to find Joel!"

"Tommy's getting him right now. Please, just lay down."

"I'm fine," another contraction ripples through your body, and you grip the back of the couch. "Fuck! I can't believe Joel convinced me to do this again!" You yell. The pain tightens in your lower abdomen, and you drop your head to the cushions, unable to focus on anything else. Strong hands press against the small of your back, applying the perfect counter pressure to your contraction. The tension releases just enough for you to pick your head up and find Maria standing over your shoulder, a knowing look in her eyes. No words need to be exchanged for her to know how grateful you are for her presence.

The contractions have been coming and going since late last night, but you didn't think much of it. They were sporadic and not painful enough to make you think you were in labor. You had false contractions with Jane and expected the same thing with this one, except that these contractions became very real very fast. Joel was already out on patrol when you had Ellie run to Tommy and Maria's for additional help because they were getting so bad. This baby is coming soon. 

"Do you have a bag ready to go?" Maria asks as the contraction ends, and you nod, pushing yourself up. 

"In our bedroom closet, but it's missing some stuff." 

"Okay, tell me what you need, and I'll pack it."

"I can do it."

"Honey, if you walk up those stairs, there's no way you'll make it back down." She says, and you sigh. Reluctantly, you list some last-minute things that need to get thrown in the bag and where they'll be. Maria turns on her heels and sprints up the stairs, ever a woman on a mission. Ellie walks over to you as Maria's figure disappears, standing awkwardly near you as you hold your belly. 

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to scare you." You say, wrapping her in a hug or as much of a hug as you can manage with the baby in between you. She relaxes and lets out a big breath as you rub her back.

"I feel like I should be the one comforting you." 

"I've done this before. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but that was before," the fear in her voice rattles you to your core, and you pull away to look at her. Her bottom lip is cracked and bleeding from her teeth worrying at it all morning, and she looks like the scared kid you met in Boston. "You really should be on the way to the hospital." 

"As soon as Joel gets here, I'll go, okay?" You say, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She shakes her head, and you open your mouth to say something more, but the vice grip returns, and you grip her shoulders. Your head bows under the weight of the pain, and you clutch Ellie like a lifeline.

"Okay, they're getting closer together. Maria!" Ellie yells as she holds you upright. You vaguely register Maria rushing down the stairs and telling Ellie something, but you don't have enough energy to listen. Time could've stopped right there, and you would've had no way of knowing. No stab wound, gunshot, or punch even comes close to this pain level. Your breathing is uneven, and you can feel yourself sweating bullets despite the cool August air. You thought you were ready. You thought you knew what to expect after Jane, but this is different. You wonder why you thought you could have another baby as the contraction fades. Maria says your name, and you pick your head up from Ellie's shoulder.

"We need to get you to the hospital right now. Joel will meet us there." She says, but you shake your head, the lump of panic in your throat tightening. Memories of begging your mom, Jane's dad, friends, or anyone to come to the hospital so you wouldn't be alone replay in your head. You were alone and scared and sixteen fucking years old when you had Jane on a stormy Tuesday morning. The nurses looked at you like a kicked puppy and mumbled, "a baby having a baby," under their breaths when they left you to cry alone while holding your newborn. 

"No, no, no. Joel's not here yet. I'm not going without him."

"I promise that Tommy will bring him to you. I'm sure they're on their way back now." 

"I'm not going by myself!" The harshness in your tone makes everybody in the room pause. "I've already done this alone once, and I'm not fucking doing it again. So, we are going to wait for Joel even if I have this baby on the fucking floor! Do you understand me?" 

"Hey," Ellie says softly. "Hey, you're not alone. At all. We're all here because we love you and want you to be safe. Nobody is going to leave, okay?" She says, rubbing your back as tears fill your eyes. 

"I can't do this." without her, you want to add, but you don't. Ellie pushes the sweaty hair out of your eyes and holds your face so you can look at her. Your breath is shaky, and you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces, but her brown eyes are looking into yours so intently that you have no choice but to look back.

"You can. You can do this. You're doing so good. You're going to have this baby, and it'll probably be the cutest fucking baby ever. And we'll all make stupid faces at it and love it even though I don't even think I like most babies, and you'll be okay. Both of you," her eyes don't move from yours as she speaks, even when you start crying. "You're not alone, but I can tell you're in pain, and we need to get to the hospital before it gets worse, okay?" She asks, and you take a shaky breath before nodding. Ellie and Maria seem to let out sighs of relief at the same time, and they start ushering you to the door when it opens.

"I'm here! I'm here! I'm sorry I'm late," Joel yells as he and Tommy run in. He smiles and runs over and kisses you. You have half a mind to smack him for looking so giddy when you're in so much pain, but let him kiss you anyway. "You ready to have a baby?" He asks as another contraction tightens in your stomach, making you squeeze him tightly. You don't get to see your family scrambling to get out the door, but you feel it. Bags and coats find owners as your entourage helps support you down the steps of your home and on the path to the hospital. 

Four contractions come and go on the way to the hospital doors, where Maria, Tommy, and Ellie cheer and promise to wait there until you're ready for them. "Almost there, baby. We're gonna get you all the good drugs, okay?" Joel tells you quietly as he flags down a nurse and a wheelchair for you. The nurse asks rapid-fire questions as she rushes you into a delivery room, and Joel does his best to answer them. You curl into yourself the second your body hits the hospital bed, yet another contraction hitting you, but this time with a familiar splitting pain. You're not going to have time for the good drugs.

The rest is a blur of doctors, nurses, questions, and Joel whispering praises into your temple. Your vision struggles to focus on anything as pain radiates from your hips to your back and up your spine. It's excruciating and dizzying, and you think you'd throw up if you weren't so focused on getting this fucking kid out. "One more, baby. One more push, and then it's over." Joel tells you. You don't respond. You can't. All the blood rushes through your ears, and you squeeze his hand hard. For a moment, the whole world stops, and tears fall down Joel's face as the tiny baby is placed on your chest. You gasp and hold them close as they screech, announcing their arrival loudly.

"It's a girl!" Someone announces, and you laugh weakly, struggling to catch your breath. You look down at your daughter and kiss her head as she continues to cry.

"You're okay. I've got you. We're okay, sweetheart. You're safe," you tell her, rubbing her back. Joel reaches out to trace the apple of her cheek and grabs her tiny hand. You and Joel join her crying, everything besides your family becoming obsolete. Joel presses a chaste kiss to your lips and smiles when you laugh against him. "I told you so." You say, and he laughs. 

"You were right," he says. "I'm so proud of you." He kisses you again as your daughter cries beautifully on your chest. Jane didn't cry at first when she was born, effectively scaring the shit out of you and everyone else in the room, but when she finally did, it was like you were breathing for the first time, too. You think this may be the first time since her death that you've felt that much peace. 

Joel cuts the cord, and the room devolves into a controlled madness with nurses and doctors calling things back and forth to each other. You don't care. The little girl on your chest has settled down and tucked her head under your chin, listening to your rapid heartbeat and recognizing the pattern. "We're right here, baby girl. We're not going anywhere, okay?" You whisper to her, kissing her over and over again. She smiles, and you immediately recognize Joel's crooked smile— nine months of carrying her and a record-breakingly fast delivery for her to be his twin. 

"Mama, we're gonna take her to get cleaned up and get her measurements, okay? The doctor's working on getting you fixed up, too." A nurse says, and you nod. 

"Just be careful, please. I made her from scratch, and it took a really fucking long time." You say as you pass her to the nurse. Everyone, including Joel, laughs even though you're serious. Joel leaves your side only to follow the nurse to the other side of the room, watching her every movement meticulously. You keep eyes on both of them. She starts fussing as the nurse cleans her up, and Joel reaches out to smooth her hair. He says something to her that you can't hear and watch him start crying again. She settles down again, but Joel is a mess. The nurse offers him a tissue, and you laugh to yourself but don't do anything to get his attention.

Let them have their secret conversation. You have a feeling it will be the first of many.

She's asleep, but you can't stop looking at her. Joel is lying in the hospital bed with you as she rests in his arms, your chin hooked over his shoulder so you can stare at her. The little girl who gave you enough excitement for a lifetime is bundled up in a white blanket with a striped hat covering her dark hair. Her legs are long and skinny, but she's strong, grasping anything within reach.

She has his nose and lips, but your eyes match. Her little chest rises and falls steadily, and little sighs come from her occasionally as she sleeps. Her hand somehow escaped the swaddle, and her fingers flex around the blanket's fabric like she's trying to decide whether she likes it. Joel reaches for her tiny hand and tries to tuck it away again, but she resists, making an angry face until he lets go. You laugh and melt simultaneously at her actions.

"She's perfect," you whisper as you kiss Joel's shoulder. He hums and turns to kiss your temple. "How did we get so lucky?"

"I've no idea," he whispers back. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Her. This. Making me a dad again." His voice is so tender and raw that your eyes mist up again. You sniffle and wipe your eyes.

"Anytime, cowboy," you rest your hand on her chest to feel the little heartbeat you made from nothing but stardust and blood. Her face scrunches up in her sleep before her little fingers find yours. "Well, maybe not anytime, but you know what I meant."

"Oh, 'm ready for another one right now."

"Never in a million fucking years could you convince me to do that again."

"You did great." He says, and you smile. You're both exhausted and should be sleeping, but you can't stop looking at the life you created together. She's not even a day old, and you know you would tear the world into a thousand pieces if she asked you to. You would do anything for her.

"D'you still like the name we picked?" You ask, and he nods.

"Do you?"

"I think it's perfect for her."

"Hey, guys," a nurse peeks her head in the door. "Are we ready for some visitors?" She asks. You nod, and Joel adjusts baby girl in his arms. Her little arm reaches up in a stretch, and she fusses when she loses the grip on your hand. You tell her you're not far, and Joel bounces her. 

"Hey," Ellie says softly as she enters the room. You smile and sit up, ignoring the jarring pain in your hips at the movement. "Oh, my God. How are you feeling?" She asks as she hugs you like she's afraid she'll break you if she holds you too tight. You rub her back and kiss her head.

"I'm okay. I delivered pretty much the second they could get me to lay down."

"I knew we should've gone to the hospital sooner!" Ellie says, and Joel shushes her. She makes an eek face as she looks at him.

"A baby's tryin' to sleep here."

"Holy shit," she breathes, taking in the bundle in Joel's arms for the first time. "Girl or boy?"

"I'm pretty sure the Millers are only capable of having girls at this point," you say, and Ellie smiles. "Do you wanna hold her?" 

"Can I?" She asks as Joel stands. She's unsure what to do but copies Joel's position and puts a hand under her back.

"Support her head," Joel instructs quietly as he carefully transitions your daughter into Ellie's arms.

"I got it. I got it," she says. Instinctively, she starts swaying back and forth and patting the baby's back. Joel stays nearby, watching as Ellie gets comfortable holding her. Your heart could explode seeing the three of them together. "Who are you?" She asks quietly, pulling the blanket under the baby's chin so she can see her. 

"This is Charlotte Elaine Miller," you say. "Charlie, for short." 

"Hey there, Charlie girl. My name's Ellie."

"She's your big sister." Joel adds. Even though he's talking to Charlie, he's looking at Ellie. She takes a shaky breath as she processes his words. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. 

"I'm one of your big sisters," she says. The pregnancy hormones and the day's emotions catch up with you, and you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to. Something about seeing Ellie with Charlie hits you hard. "I've got so much to teach you and tell you about when you're a little bigger, though. There's not much I can do with you right now except, well, this," She shrugs as if to make her point to the sleeping baby, and you laugh. Charlie stretches again, probably getting used to having so much room now that she's out of you, and yawns. "Oh, big yawn. Good job." Ellie praises.

"You're a natural," Joel says, making her smile.

"I dunno about that, but she does like me. Right, Charlie girl?" she asks, and the Charlie girl in question chuffs. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun together." She says sincerely. Joel meets your eyes, sending you a knowing look and a crooked smile, and you smile back a little sadly. He works at his jaw, and his Adam's apple bobs as his eyes sparkle with tears again. No words need to be exchanged. You know. You may be one of the only people who know. Ellie rambles to Charlie, ever the present audience, and you remember, silent and pious in your devotion. 

You think you'll spend your whole life remembering, a constant scramble for pieces of memories that bring her closer. You think you'll find bits of her in music, the summer sun, and your girls' eyes. You think you'll tell Charlie of her big sisters, who were loved and cherished beyond belief, and their shared adoration of Patti Smith. You think you'll be able to find a way to talk about her that doesn't feel like your soul is desperately ripping away from you. For Sarah, Jane, Ellie, and now Charlie, you think you would do anything.

Even after so much loss, destruction, and nights spent hopelessly staring at the wall like it would be enough to start Jane's heart again, you think you would do it all again. The world can be a really shitty place, and you've seen firsthand how horrible people can be to each other. You and Joel have been a million different versions of awful people, and you can never escape that. But you have Ellie and Charlie. And each other. And for a moment, in this horribly lit hospital room, every minute of that misery has meaning.

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taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts​

#the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #ellie williams #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #big sister Ellie Williams #there’s such an Easter egg in the baby’s name #first person to look up the name meanings gets a kiss on the mouth #look for the light

[tainted-liquor]

'Miles & Milo...⊹˚. ♡ bulleted hcs for the twins

Now we all know these two are like brothers. And as much as y'all hate to hear it, these two don't get along LMFAO

Milo Morales, the older twin by exactly 4 minutes. There's never a day that goes by without him reminding Miles he's the older twin.

Milo Morales is soooo fucking sassy like its unreal !! He can, and WILL call you a bum with no care for how you feel. ↳ "Okay? When did I fuckin' ask you, bum."/ "Couldn't be me tho..."

Milo 'I ain't doing shit' Morales. If he doesn't want to, he won't. Simple as that. This has led to unfathomable amounts of fights with his brother over the pettiest shit ever. ↳"I'm not coverin' for you again. te dije la última vez...que no tiene nada que ver conmigo."

Milo Morales who will randomly bop his twin on the head with a random object. He picked up the habit as a baby and It NEVER left

Milo Morales who borderlines mean/cocky. This mf never has an off button and can dish out a read like no other

Milo Morales is more of a non-clingy/show rather than tell person. He'll never say it, but you'll know.

Milo Morales who absolutely stabs Miles' hair with a pick. He lifts him up by his 'nappy ass nigga naps' at random moments. (he thinks its funny)

Milo Morales will purposefully speak Spanish around Miles, just because he doesn't understand.

As much as he hides it, Milo Morales loves his brother. Yeah, they fight like they don't got no home training, but that's his favorite person!

Miles Morales, who absolutely despises his twin brother.

Whenever Mama Rio isn't around and has to braid his brothers hair, Miles Morales makes sure to be extra rough just because it annoys Milo.

Miles Morales who pops his brother with the comb for no reason, even when Milo isn't moving. ↳ "Sorry. Yo head just big" "NIGGA THAT WAS MY SHOULDER."

Miles Morales, who spent 3 days making a near damn 30 minute handshake with Milo.

Miles Morales who threatens to snitch on his brother anytime Milo refuses to cover for him as Spider-Man, which always ends in a fight.

Miles Morales who gets bullied by Milo for not understanding Spanish

Miles Morales who is more of a 'she tells me to shut up and I do' kind of person. Definetly not as sassy as his counterpart. ↳ "Yes ma'am."/"My bad."

Miles Morales can, and WILL pull on Milo's braids to beat him in a race.

But if it came down to it all? Miles won't ever hesitate to put his beef aside to help Milo demolish some shit. Together !

Them two are just like Phineas and Ferb. They wanna make a flying car? They'll make a flying car.

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoistgoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1ree @ban-al3xx @moonpiiess @we-loveebony @kae2kaee

#across the spiderverse #atsv #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #e1610 miles x blackfem!reader #e1610 miles #e42 miles x black!reader #e42 miles

[inbabylontheywept]

"The reaper had a scythe. I have a combine harvester."

Arlach tapped his fingers nervously. He’d have gladly given up his life for the liberation of his people. A combine harvester (even a deluxe AI driven model) was a pittance compared to that. Still, he didn’t really understand what he was hearing.

“I uh… heard you’re hooking up my strawberry picker to an air defense cannon?”

The human technician assembling the gun held up a hand, finishing up some last tweaking of the wire harness. He touched two wires together carefully and swore when a shower of sparks shot out of the contact.

Set back, but not defeated, the man paused his task to answer the farmer’s question.

“See, you’re looking at this wrong. It’s an AI harvester, and it works great for strawberries, but machines don’t really see ‘strawberries’. They rate strawberry-ness. There’s a lot of ways to manage that, but it looks for a generally pointed shape, some seeds, and that nice red color. So your run of the mill strawberry generally receives an almost perfect strawberry-ness score, but something like this-”

His hands dug through all the pockets of his work suit before they finally found their target. He fished out what had been a standard ferroslug before it was painted bright red and smattered with a handful of black dots. He took a moment to admire it himself before tossing it to the farmer and continuing.

“Well, it’s not a strawberry, but it scores as one. Well enough that the machine gets positive feedback from its alignment unit every time it puts one of these babies where it's supposed to go.”

Arlach stared at him blankly.

“So what, you’re convincing it to fill a cargo container up with painted bullets?”

The technician grinned.

“There's no a limit to how fast it's allowed to fill that container up. At no point did the alignment protocol even consider that it'd be capable of throwing a 'strawberry' at mach nine. And the cargohold is important, but the rocket its attached to is more so. You know what looks a lot like a surface to orbit rocket?"

Arlach’s brain clicked.

“The hypersonic missiles they've been throwing at us.”

The grin widened. Arlach himself felt slightly awed to have found the connection.

“Will it work?”

The human nodded.

“It’s damn near the only thing that can. To shoot down something going that fast, that low, you either need a dummy missile that can brute force outrun it, or enough computing power to hack a station. The alliance is too chickenshit to send over their actual military AI's, but these myopic-type digibrains are supposed to be safe for civilian use because the idea of convincing your tractor that a bullet is a strawberry and a WMD is a cargo loader was a little too creative for the morons over at John Deere Galactic. And if that digibrain just so happens to function near the exoflop level, they're going to have a hard time sneaking anything larger than a bee through this airspace.”

The alien’s hands went over its crest as its mind reeled.

“They're not the only ones who would never think of this. It's brilliant. I never would've considered it.”

The tech shrugged good naturedly and went back to retrieve the two ends of wire that he’d dropped earlier.

“Eh, it's not coming from nowhere. There’s something of a human tradition about using farm equipment for war. I'm just lucky to be part of the next evolution in this. The reaper himself only used a scythe. Now I get to use a combine harvester.”

#hfy #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space oddities #science fiction #scifi #humans are space orcs #big fucking gun #bfg #AI theory #vaguely war in Ukraine inspired #Never pass on a chance to dunk on John Deere #humans are weird #everything can be a gun