#He always runs away when his little protective barrier is threatened

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone Part 5 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Soft Dom Officer Harrington/ Soft Dom Gangster Eddie & Sub Fem Doctor Y/N, SMUT, overstimulation, dp, light spanking, light choking, aftercare.

ANGST! Reader gets caught in a lie, someone threatens her relationship with Eddie, Reader gets punished for lying, mentions of exes, mentions of Eddie's dick dad, Cliffhanger ending! *evil laughs*

Word Count: 6385

Series here

Steve sighs from his desk at the precinct as he scans through boring paperwork. This is the part of the job he hates. It reminds him of being dragged to his father’s office to “see how the family business is run”. Even as a kid he knew the corporate world wasn’t for him. When he enrolled in the police academy, his mother cried and his dad raged, screaming about how he abandoned his responsibilities. He didn’t care though; he wanted to do something good, not just with his life but for the city around him. 

He never expected to fall in love with a criminal nor did he indeed to. To him, Eddie was everything he wasn’t even though the gangster always commented about how similar they both were. After his breakup, Steve hardened his heart and became bitter as he focused solely on the job to avoid the pain he was in. In one 15min car ride, Eddie broke through that barrier and in that moment the officer knew he would do whatever he could to protect him. 

His phone vibrated and he grinned when he saw the message was from you. 

George Carver is investing in my clinic! Oh my God. I can’t believe he’s still willing. 

I can finally get better supplies and give my staff the bonuses they deserve.

That’s amazing, sweetheart! You deserve it. :) 

If you need anything else just let me know.

I’m so happy for you, honey. We should celebrate tonight!

I should be out of here on time.

“Steve, there’s a man in interrogation room B asking to speak with you.”

The officer nods towards his colleague, exhaling as he stands and heads that way. When he enters the room, his eyes rake over the seemingly agitated young man as he takes a seat across from him and opens the file that was given to him. 

“Gabriel Wiley. I heard you wanted to speak with me.”

“Is that camera still broken? The few times I’ve been in here it was never fixed.”

“Why does it matter, Gabe? Something you don’t want my captain knowing?”

“No…it’s something YOU don’t want him knowing.”

That gets the officer’s attention as he shifts his gaze towards the man in front of him. He wasn’t like the usual people brought in or who came in with a tip that could help. Gabriel was well dressed from top to bottom in an expensive looking suit but seemed as if he had been pulling on it from stress as the tie was missing and the top few buttons were undone. 

“I don’t have time for this so if we can get on with it—”

“I need Edward Munson to stay away from Y/N.”

Steve blinked in surprise as he folded his arms and leaned forward. 

“How do you know Y/N?”

“Does THAT matter? She’s not safe with him and as his friend I would imagine you would want to keep the peace between everyone.”

“Are you threatening him?”, the officer growled.

“No… but the people I do business with could do some damage to them both and I don’t want that. You have three days, Mr. Harrington.”

As the man stood up, Steve flew from his chair, grabbing the man’s collar, and roughly pushing him against the wall.

“If you hurt either of them, I swear to God, they will never find your body.”

Gabriel nods as if accepting that this will be his fate as he pats the officer’s arms, signaling to let him go. 

“Nothing will happen if she stays away from him.”

***

“Stevie, you’re finally here! I got champagne and Y/N put some food in the oven so oddly enough you’re right on time—”

“Do you know this man?”, he interrupts as Steve shoves his phone screen in your face.

“What? No. Why?”

“What about you, Ed?”

Eddie takes the phone and gives it a good once over.

“I’ve never met him but other gangs in town hire low level people all the time. Garth and Jeff know better than to do that on my side. I don’t like having people I don’t know in my organization. Why, babe? What happened?”

The officer sighs as he throws a file on the counter that his boyfriend opens and sifts through. 

“Gabriel Wiley came in today asking for me by name and said that you needed to leave Y/N. We had three days or else ‘things would happen’.”

“What THINGS?”, the gangster grumbled low in anger.

“I don’t know. We need to find out who he is working for. It looks like he’s done some petty crimes…did about 6 months in Hawkins Pen…”

“Maybe I should talk to him…since it seems to involve me and he doesn’t want me with you.”

“That may be exactly what he wants. No, Y/N, just stay with me for the time being, ok?”, Eddie practically pleads as you nod. 

The three of you try to still celebrate the evening with both men drinking way more alcohol than they should. You knew better, pretending to sip more than you actually were. After they passed out, you slithered out of their hold to scan the file Steve had brought home with him. 

Gabriel had been arrested numerous times like the officer mentioned for things like disorderly conduct and theft. He spent 6 months in jail for robbing a store in Eddie’s territory but since then he hasn’t seemingly been in any trouble. 

Grabbing your bag, you slipped out of the loft, down the back stairs, and headed for your car. 

###############

Gabriel answered the door when you knocked in just his sweats and a shocked expression. 

“Y/N, what are you—”

“What are YOU doing, Gabe?”, you asked in annoyance as you pushed past him into his home. “Why are you going to police stations to threaten the life of a gangster?”

“Why are you dating one?!”

“That’s none of your concern! You’re the one who refused to get your life together!”

“Oh, so you upped your game from blue collar criminals to full on murderers?”, he asked as he leaned against the back of his couch. 

“Fuck you! I’m finally happy and with someone who cares about me—”

“And I didn’t?!”

You both heavily sigh as you place your hands on your hips. 

“Why did you threaten me and Eddie to Steve today?”

“I didn’t threaten you. Someone is upset that you’re with him—”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m not even supposed to be talking to you or that cop but… Y/N, I loved you. I never stopped. Even after I went in and you dumped my ass. I told myself when I got out I would grovel at your feet but then things happened…I needed to keep you safe.” His eyes meet yours with sympathy for a moment before they flood with anger. “You need to leave and you need to leave Edward Munson, Y/N, or else.”, he growled as he grabbed your arm and started pushing you towards the front door. 

As he swings it open, he gasps as he comes face to face with the gangster himself.

“You know, I had a feeling you were lying when you said you didn’t know him but I’m kind of disappointed that you thought we were stupid enough to fall for the ‘feed them alcohol till they pass out’ trick.” Eddie’s tone seemed calm but even you could tell he was furious. 

While you both backed away from him and he slammed the door shut, you backed into a broad chest that genuinely startled you. 

“Or else what, Gabe?”, Steve asked as he continued to step forward making the other boy stumble to the side as he backed you into the gangster, his eyes never leaving yours. “She needs to leave Eddie or what?”

“This is…I told you to…to talk to them. This is a bad idea, Steven.”, Gabriel huffed in what sounded like fear. 

“You lied to us. Why?” When your jaw clenched in defiance, his fingers pinched your cheeks. As the other man moved to defend you, Eddie pushed him to the ground and placed his boot on his chest. “From what I heard, he sounds like an ex, is that right?”

“Yes.”, you spat. 

“Why did you lie?” When you didn’t respond, he backed you into the wall and hovered his face in front of yours. “You are in a lot of trouble so I would skip the theatrics and come clean now. Why did you lie?”

When you push at his chest, his hand comes back around to grab your bicep and pushes you a bit roughly onto the couch. Helplessly you watch as both men grab your ex and throw him on the carpet in front of you as Eddie punches him hard in the face. 

“You said someone didn’t like that they were together. Why?”

“Go ahead and kill me. If I tell you everything, I’m dead anyway.”

The gangster hits him again as Steve grabs a chair from the kitchen and places it in front of you as he straddles the back. 

“Why did you two break up? I heard him say you left him. Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does because we asked. Now I’m starting to get annoyed with having to repeat myself so this is the last time I’m going to ask. Why did you two break up?”

“If you hurt him anymore I’ll leave you both, Steve.”

“B-Both? You’re with both of them?”, Gabe asked in surprise as his head fell back against the floor and he chuckled. “Jesus, this is way worse than I thought. Are you fucking him to?”, he asked Eddie whose eyes darkened at the man’s tone. “Just fucking kill me, Munson. I barely have it in me to kill the woman I love let alone a fucking cop.”

“Gabriel, what are you talking about? Did Jason Carver send you?”, Eddie asked as the man continued to smile before sighing. “Hey! Focus! Who do you work for?”

“Hawkins Penitentiary. Three years ago. Cell block G.”

The gangster’s eyes swiftly met his partner’s as he releases his hold on your ex. Promptly rising to his feet, he flies out the door with Steve following hastily after. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Leaving the man on the floor, you run after them finding them arguing back and forth as the officer tries to stop Eddie from getting behind the wheel. 

“NO! You can’t confront him right now!”

“Steve, this is completely different then the Jason thing. I need to know why. Keep an eye on her and don’t let her leave my place. I don’t care what excuse she gives you. We’ll deal with her when I get back.”

Pausing for a moment, Eddie turns to give his boyfriend a passionate kiss before getting into his car and speeding away.

###############

Steve paces as he waits for his partner to come back. It had been over two hours since Eddie left and the officer was getting restless. 

“Steve—”

“Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it.”

Thirty minutes later the door to the apartment opens as the gangster strides in with heavy shoulders as he sighs.

“Are you ok, honey?”, the man asks as he cups his face in his hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I straighten everything out but…”

“Is Gabe going to be ok?” Their eyes shift your way as you rise to your feet and place yourself in front of him. “Eddie…”

“I made a deal to keep you both, well Y/N, safe. I told his employer I’d dispose of him myself.”, he relayed in a calm demeanor as his chocolate hues never left your face. A heavy exhale left your lips as the tears began to flow. 

“Please tell me you didn’t…”

“I didn’t. I gave him some money and one of my guys is taking him to the next state over so he can get on a plane to leave the country. He fucked up but I guess we were lucky he was fucking in love with you.” Glancing towards Steve, he continued to relay information. “He was supposed to kill her to get back at me for ‘ruining his business’. Asshole is super fucking petty; always has been. Seems he doesn’t know about you. I’m surprised Jason hasn’t told him.”

“Who was he working for?”

Both men glared your way before the officer produced his handcuffs flashing them in your direction. 

“Are you going to answer our questions or are we doing this hard way?”

Fear dances through your eyes before they harden and glare right back.

“You said you would never use those tactics on me. That you would never hurt me.”

“That’s correct.” 

Steve lunges forward taking ahold of your arm, clinging to you tightly as you wrestle against him. Eddie drags a chair to the living room where you are placed and restrained as you begin to cry tears of frustration. 

“You can say ‘red’, Y/N, and we would stop right now. We meant what we said…we would never hurt you or use those methods to get you to talk but we know other ways.”, the gangster explained as he placed himself on his knees in front of you. 

They both waited for you to use the safe word, minutes passing as his eyes scanned your face. After a while, he nodded towards the officer behind you and you listened as he rummaged around the area behind you while Eddie cupped your face in his hands to try your tears. 

“Am I allowed to be rough to?”

The gangster couldn’t help but chuckle as his fingers began unbuckling your jeans so he could pull them down.

“You kind of are already by making this harder than it has to be. I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell us the truth. But sure, sweetheart, give us what you got.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Or what, little girl? What are you gonna do?”

“What is it with you and chairs? Why do you always try and intimidate people in one? Is it so you can feel bigger than them?”

“We can move you to the railing if you’d like so you can stand.” After he nods again behind you, you wait as you feel Steve begin to uncuff you. 

“5 bucks, Munson.”

“You’re on.”

You had no idea what they were talking about but as soon as you were free your foot pushed against Eddie’s chest as you bolted for the stairs. Your plan was to gain the upper hand in his bedroom with your back to a wall but you should have known better. Steve did this for a living. 

You barely made it two steps before his arms were wrapping around you and pinning you to the floor. As he straddled your waist, he held your wrists down as you tried to wrestle back against his hold. 

“Told you.”, he sang. 

“I didn’t think she’d actually try and run. Fight back maybe but.”, Eddie laughed as he replaced his boyfriend’s grasp on your arms and dragged you the rest of the way towards the stairs. “Always surprising me, princess.”

Steve restrained you again to one of the rails behind you with your limbs above your head. You continued to try and kick him with your legs but when his hand came down hard on your behind you stopped. Almost too delicately, he removed your panties and you watched as he opened a decorative box, pulling out a new pair. Sliding them up your body, you shivered as the pads of his fingers traced your skin. 

You knew immediately something was off as the crotch area of the lace felt a bit heavier than a normal pair of underwear. 

“I actually bought this for you a while ago and saved it thinking it would be a fun anniversary present or just something to utilize as you walk around the loft.”, Eddie grins in amusement as he takes a seat in the chair you were previously in. “Now, let’s try this again, Y/N. Why did the two of you break up? He seems to still be in love with you so I imagine you did the dumping.”

Your jaw clenches as you turn your head away from them. Both men sigh as something beeps and the panties you were wearing come to life. As the little vibrations play with your clit, you glare their way again.

“Fuck you.”

“This thing is pretty nifty. I spent a good chunk of cash on it so I’m hoping it makes you feel really good, baby. See, we have this remote here that controls the setting and it can vibrate at 4 different levels. The one you’re feeling right now is that first one.”

Your eye lids flutter at his admission as your defiant features falter slightly. If this was the lowest setting, you were in trouble. 

Locking his intense eyes with yours, he presses the next setting.

“Fuck.”

You expect them to throw more questions your way but they remain silent as they watch you get slowly built up before your first orgasm washes over you. 

“Why did you two break up?”

As you shake your head, Eddie bumps it up to the next level making you whine. By your fourth orgasm, you were a mess, your legs weakly thrashing about as you tugged on the cuffs around your wrists. 

“I’m losing my patience, Y/N, especially since this is the easiest question to answer out of all the ones we have. WHY did you two break up?” Growling in annoyance Eddie began to reach for the next setting before you cut him off. 

“NO! No, please. He went to jail. He went to jail.”, you cried as you felt the build up again. 

“For robbing a store?”, Steve asked and you nodded. 

“What? Couldn’t wait 6 months? Doesn’t really give me hope if I go in.”, the gangster replied sarcastically making you angry. 

“It wasn’t his first offence. He had been getting in trouble off and on for years. I warned him! I told him if he got in trouble again I’d leave.”

“For years, huh. How long were you together?” They watched as your head hung as the coil snapped again. “You know what, Ed, I’m kind of hungry. Why don’t we go to kitchen downstairs and come back in about an hour—”

“2 years.”, you cried. “We were friends in college before we-we started dating.”

“Color, Y/N?”

They marveled at your defiance even in your current state as you spit in their direction. 

“Green, sir!”

Stomping your way and tired of your attitude, Eddie beckons Steve to release you and as soon as he does you fall into his arms, clinging to his neck as another orgasm ripples through your body. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew him?”

“Please, Eddie—”

Moving part of the now damp silk out of the way, he slide two of his fingers into your core and pumped them at a fast pace overwhelming your senses as you circled your arms tighter around him.

“He said he still loved you. Do you still love him?”, Steve asked sternly as he kneeled beside you both. 

“NO! H-H-How could you ask me that?! After everything I’ve done for you!”

“Then why did you lie?!”

“I didn’t want you to hurt him!”, you shouted as you trembled against him, soaking his fingers. 

You feel Eddie move around as you continue to cling to him before the vibration between your legs abruptly stops. Laying your head against his chest, you listen to his heartbeat and use it as an anchor to slow your breathing. 

“He worked for my father.” Leaning back, your eyes widen at the gangster’s admission. 

“That’s most likely why he never came back to ‘grovel at your feet’.”, Steve added. 

“I don’t understand. He only did…little things like…stealing cars and—”

“That’s how my dad started.”, Eddie sighed. “Why do you think he’s so fucking sloppy? Even Gabe was sloppy. Fucking walking straight into a police station to threaten me to a cop? Friend or not that’s a bad idea, not just for himself but for Steve. Probably why my dad’s been using him for small favors. They met during those 6 months, Y/N. He was in a different part of the prison but Allen made a deal with some of the guards to have him moved. He had originally intended to punish him for breaking into a store in ‘his’ territory. He likes to pretend it’s still his in there.”

“As a trade so to speak, instead of killing him they used him to do things on the outside. I wouldn’t know about it because I don’t care about petty crimes like robbery especially since no one got hurt. For things like that, I let Steve do his job.”

“Why…why would your dad want me dead?”

He smirks to himself as he answers.

“Because I’m happy. You see, sweetheart, it REALLY pisses him off that not only am I in charge but I’m a way better leader than he ever was and he knows that. If he had known about Steve, he probably would have sent someone a long time ago. Hopefully not the same guy because as you saw…he couldn’t do it.”

“And he’s not going to kill Eddie because too many people would turn on him including his uncle. Wayne’s not a violent man but he’d kill anyone who hurt his nephew.”

“When I went down there I didn’t tell him Gabriel was your ex but he already knew. Said that the asshole didn’t stop talking about you to grunts that were loyal to my dad. Fucking idiot…”

“Especially for a man preaching that he wanted to keep you safe.”, Steve murmured.

“Which is probably another reason he made a deal with me to kill him. A ‘your life for his’ trade so to speak. Y/N, I need you to understand that it took EVERY ounce of energy for me not to follow through.”

“Why didn’t you?”, you whisper. “Especially since you think I still love him.”

Their jaws clenched at your accusation as Eddie heavily exhaled. 

“I told you, little girl. I don’t enjoy killing people. If I don’t have to then I don’t.”

“Yet you wanted to?”

“Of course, I did. He could have gotten you both killed. Gabriel put you in danger and put Steve at risk. In this business, babe, sloppiness like that either puts you in jail like Allen or gets you killed and if I decided to kill him I would still have been able to sleep at night.”

It was your turn for your face to harden once more as you pushed yourself out of their embrace and utilized the rail to get to your wobbly feet. 

“Now who’s lying? Do you think I’m stupid? Yeah, maybe, that’s part of the reason you wanted to kill him but I know you, Eddie. I also heard you on that first night. ‘No one touches what’s mine.’ It fucking kills you that he still loves me, doesn’t it? If you could remove the ‘competition’ you would.”

Getting to his feet as well, the gangster stalks towards your pants and panties, tossing them roughly at your chest.

“You want to fucking leave and go be with that asshole? Have at it. Hell, I’ll even drop you off myself. We can take Steve’s cruiser that way we can get you there faster and away from us.”

“What about you, Steven? Could you have killed him out of jealousy?”

“In a heartbeat.” You blinked, taken aback by his answer. “I heard him yell at you saying that you ‘upped your game’ or some bullshit to a gangster but do you know the real reason you stay even though Eddie and I do way worse? Because we fucking care. For three years, Y/N, he’s been doing whatever Allen told him without question yet he supposedly loved you but when you begged him to stop doing what he was doing he didn’t. When he got out, he could have done the same thing Munson just did for him and ran away with you but he didn’t.”

“He didn’t give a fuck about you. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s true. We…” Steve gestures between him and Eddie. “…we do. We could have killed Gabriel. He could have brought him back here and we could have fucking tortured the hell out of him for threatening you but we didn’t because it would have hurt you. You asked us not to so we didn’t.”

“You’re right, Y/N. Like Steve, you are mine and no one hurts or touches what’s mine but that doesn’t mean Iwant to be the one to hurt you. I’m not vindictive like Allen and you’re not my possession. You’re my partner.”

“OUR partner.”

“Now, little girl, you want me to be honest? Here it is. Yes, the thought crossed my mind of following through and killing him especially when I think about him saying he still loves you. When he had his hands on you when he opened the door… He had the audacity to touch you… Fuck, I wanted to break his legs and tear him in half. Steve could have helped hide his body and then remove any evidence that he had any contact with us. I pictured it over and over on the drive back here…but I didn’t…because I love you.”

When your gaze shifted towards Steve, the officer shrugged as he nodded. 

“I loved you since the first sassy thing came out of your mouth. I fell in love with you that night after Andrew. You let me take care of you, fell asleep in my arms, and I knew then I didn’t want to let you go.”

“If…If I asked you to give up this life…and run away somewhere with me…would you?”, you ask in a small tone as your head slightly hangs. 

You’ve done this dance before and the answer killed you.

“You robbed a fucking liquor store? Why?! What did you need so badly that—”

“Y/N! I don’t have time for this! You’re my one phone call. Now I need you to come bail me out and—”

“With what money, Gabe?! You promised me. You promised me you would shape up and stop doing shit like this!”

“With what money, babe?”, he replies sarcastically. “You think college is fucking cheap? You think a house, marriage, and all that comes free?!”

“Well thankfully none of that is your concern anymore!”

“What?”

“I’m done…”

Gabriel releases a breathy sigh before responding again.

“Y/N, baby, please… I can do better. I’ll be more careful and—”

“Of course.” 

Your head shoots up at Eddie’s answer as Steve nods as well. 

“I’d never ask you to do that… I know people depend on you here.”

“I know, sweetheart.”, the gangster whispered. 

“So, what’s the plan, honey?” You look at the officer in confusion before he turns around and grabs his keys. “Are we driving you to where Gabriel is?”

Your head shakes as the day hits you and you start bawl. 

“Can we take a break, please?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s been a rough night. Do you want to go home?”, Steve asks and again you shake your head. Slowly, he walks forward till he’s inches in front of you. “Y/N, are you in that vulnerable headspace we talked about?” When you nod, he lifts you into his arms and you promptly wrap your limbs around him as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

You heard the long-haired boy pass you as he went up the stairs and the officer followed with you in tow.

“Honey, do you want to take a bath or anything?”

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“Thank you but, baby girl, that’s not what I asked.”

“I’d like a bath, please.”

You cling to his neck as he holds you waiting for Eddie to finish getting everything together and places you down gently in the warm water. Closing your eyes, you heavily sigh.

“I love you to…both of you…so much. I-I-I’ve wanted to say something before but you two have been together for over a-a year. The three of us have been seeing each other for a couple of months. I didn’t want to scare you off or—”

Fingers grabbed your chin as a cigarette tasting mouth met your own.

“Always be open with us, sweetheart. Always. Say it again…please.”

You chuckle through your tears as he smiles against your lips.

“I love you, Eddie and Steve.” 

As their kisses become more heated, you feel yourself becoming desperate to have them make you theirs. 

“I want you both…please…”

“Y/N, you need a break.”, the officer chuckles at your earnestness. 

“I had one. I’m ok. Please, please, please. I need to feel you both inside of me.”, you purr as your hand strokes his cock causing him to groan a bit. 

The gangster leans forward and kisses your shoulder as your breathing halts at the sudden intrusion of his thick fingers in your ass. 

“Have you ever done this before?”

“It’s…It’s been a while. Shit, that feels…amazing.”

Steve grins as his lips tenderly run along your chin to your neck and you cling to him as he guides two of his own fingers deep into your cunt. 

“Jesus, Eddie. She’s so fucking tight. I don’t think this little pussy can take much more.”

“Nooooooo, Steve. Please.”, you whine. “I can take it. I can take it. I can…”

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Climbing out of the tub, the long-haired boy splashes water everywhere and wraps his arm around your body to lift you off his boyfriend, carrying you haphazardly back into the bedroom. Your soaking wet frames trench his mattress as he lays on his back behind you and situates you with your back to him straddling his waist. 

“I’m gonna hold my cock…and you just…lower that sexy ass onto it…as slow as you need to.”, he panted.

Nodding, his length twitches in anticipation as you hold your cheeks open giving him a good view before gradually beginning to take him in.

“Oh. O-oh, Steve?”

“I’m right here, honey. You’re doing so good. I got you.”, he cooed as he rested his palm on your hip in front of you while his other caressed your face. “There you go. Just take your time, pretty girl.”

It felt like an eternity but when your hips finally connected with the gangsters, you carefully leaned your back onto his chest noticing then that his eyes were closed. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just…trying not to cum early.” He smirked when you giggled. “You feel so good, Y/N. Your ass is just fucking choking my dick.”

Steve noticed your pussy flutter at the man’s words and he can’t help himself, leaning forward and licking a long stripe through your folds making you shudder. 

Inching towards you two on his knees, he reared back and spit onto your clit, rubbing it in with the tip of his cock, teasing you before he guided himself into your entrance. 

“Ah…God fucking damn it. I told you, Y/N…tight.”

Your head fell back as you begun to feel overwhelmed with the feeling of them inside you. 

“St-Steve, baby, I-I-I can feel you. Fuck I’m not gonna last long.”, Eddie whined causing the officer to bite his bottom lip as he thrust his hips at a faster pace. “What about you, princess? Are y-you alright?”

You didn’t respond, you could barely catch your breath let alone think. Ringed fingers circled around your throat as your mouth fell open and the officer’s deep voice pushed through the fog. 

“He asked you something, little girl. Are you in pain?”

“No.”, you murmur.

“Do we need to stop or slow down?”

“N-No. Please. Fuck me.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle as his head hung and both men moved at a faster, harder rhythm. Eddie’s palm looped around to massage your tit as the other boy’s thumb reached down to play with your bundle of nerves. 

A sudden feeling you had never felt before ran through your body and crashed into you like a wave. You screamed as you trembled, panting heavily as the coil in your stomach aggressively snapped and your felt something wet drench your lower half.

“Jesus fucking… Christ.”, Steve stuttered as his hips stopped moving and he dug his fingers into your waist as he came. 

At the sight above him, Eddie couldn’t hold back any longer as he hugged you to him and with a few more pumps released his seed inside of you. 

“D-Did…Did she…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

It took them a few seconds to realize you had started to quietly sob into the pillow beside you and as carefully as they could they pulled out of you, moving your hair back so they could see your face. 

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong, honey?” Are you ok? Was it too much?”

“T-T-That…That’s never…never happened before… It just…felt so good. Did I ruin the moment?”

“Oh, sweetie. No, no not at all. That’s perfectly normal. Well…not for us…Aren’t you a doctor? You’ve never—OW!”, Steve gasped when his boyfriend smacked his bicep, widening his eyes as if to tell him to shut up.

“Y/N, what my idiot is trying to say is we’ve never made a girl…squirt…before. Geez, it sounds kind of crass doesn’t it?”, Eddie laughs making you softly smile. “You didn’t ruin anything, sweetheart. That was actually really sexy. Did you see what you did to him? Turned him into a teenager again.”

Steve grins as he blushes and lays down in front of you, placing a light kiss on your nose.

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m, um, I’m really tired though…heavy.”

“I can imagine but we can’t fall asleep with the bed in the state it’s in.”, Eddie jests as he gets to his feet and gently lifts you into his arms. “Babe, I’m going to give her a quick shower. I have some clean sheets in that closet back there.”

The officer bounces out of the bed and kisses his partner before placing a soft one on your cheek as you keen into the gangster’s neck. 

You’re so blissed out and exhausted, everything moves in a blur as you feel warm water on your skin, Eddie’s gentle touches, and the comfort of soft, clean sheets. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I swear I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

Arms circle around you as both men nuzzle their faces into your skin.

#######################

“Please be advised, going into Munson compound in 5.”

Steve’s eyes blink slowly open at the sound of his radio cackling.

“Shouldn’t Harrington be here? This is his case.”

“Well, maybe, he’ll actually answer his phone next time.”

Eddie’s head lifted as their eyes met. Reaching for his phone, he sent a message before getting out of bed and smashing it against the wall. 

That startled you awake but Steve’s palm over your mouth silenced you from making any noise. After making a shushing motion with his finger, he pointed towards his radio. 

“3 minutes till entry.”

Pushing against your back, he ushered you out of bed and quickly threw some of Eddie’s clothes over your naked body. Once you were situated, he hastily threw on his own clothes, and grabbed his gear along with anything else that would incriminate him as the three of you hurried down the stairs. 

Tugging on his hand, you pause as you show them a text message you got around 3am that morning. 

“Y/N,

I’m sorry for how things ended with us. I loved you and I was so fucking stupid for letting you go. I should have fought for us but I robbed that store instead. I knew Allen wouldn’t me go and I knew if I ran back to you, he would use you against me like he did with Eddie. 

He seems like a good man but I’m sorry, babe. I can’t let him to get you killed. 

Don’t be with him in the morning and don’t warn him. 

It won’t matter, trust me. 

Run, Y/N. Hell, take the cop with you if you have to have one of them but stay away from anything Munson. 

You have no idea what they’ve done…what they’re capable of…

I love you, 

Gabriel

“You were right…I should have let you--”, you whispered.

Eddie yanked your arm cutting you off and cupped your cheeks as his lips passionately kissed yours. 

“One minute to entry. This is it, guys.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, pretty girl. I’ll be ok. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you to.”, you cry as Steve pulls you two apart and pushes you towards a vent he had pried open. 

The gangster shrugs, fighting the tears that want to push through. 

“I’ll find out what they know. It can’t be much.”

“Enough to storm my building. They’ve never done that before.”

The officer grabs the back of his boyfriend’s neck as they kiss and hug each other tightly. 

“Everything’s going to be ok, honey. I promise. I love you so much.”

“I love you to, my paladin.”

After you climbed in, Steve followed and Eddie hurriedly closed the grate behind you two just as a loud explosion filled your ears. 

You both watch through the window of metal as the gangster cleared his throat and his face hardened as he listened to the sound of officers screaming as they banged against his front door. 

“You’re going to follow me, ok?”, Steve whispers as you nod but as he turns to move, you freeze as you see Eddie raise his hands in surrender and the door loudly bursts open. 

Officers scream at him to get on the ground, grabbing him, and pinning him to the carpet as they handcuff his hands behind his back. 

“Come on, guys. You know I like it rough but this is ridiculous.”, he joked.

“Shut the fuck up, Munson. You’re in a lot of trouble”, Detective Hopper scolds. 

Lightly tugging on your sleeve, Steve motioned for you to follow with the gangster’s sarcastic chuckles echoing behind you. 

###############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon 

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #mafia!eddie munson #officer!Steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #steddie angst

[kairoseas]

Imagine... after The Shibuya Incident feat . the then currently dating itadori & fushiguro.....

"Are you okay?" Those words breaking down every last barrier thats holding Yuuji together as he feels cool hands on his face, caked with blood underneath the nails, rusty color painted across the palms and the other's school uniform, remnants of Megumi's own series of battles to make it back to Yuuji. Holding his face, Yuuji nods in silence, but his emotions are given away by the warmth flooding his eyes, through his cheeks, he's not even sure if he's crying now or not. Megumi would love to tell Yuuji exactly what had happened to him but ... he'd do it later, when he was in a better state of mind. "K, Kugisaki, N, Nanamin --" Yuuji stutters out with difficulty, his eyes beginning to spill over with warm, hot, large tears running down his face again. He thought he already cried all of this out before. "I couldn't do anything but ... stand there...!" Yuuji manages to choke as much out, sniffling a bit, the crisp October air slapping the tip of his nose pink. Fushiguro furrows his brows, before he tries to provide grounding pressure, holding his face, getting his attention, pushing hair out of his face, out of the wounds that have yet to clot properly. "I know you. You wouldn't have let it happen on purpose. ...It happened too fast, didn't it?" "But I did let it happen...! I stood there...! Doesn't that make me a bad person too?" Yuuji asks, with scars that Megumi takes inventory of in silence. Things to doctor and take care of soon before they risk any infection from all the debris and smoke from the fires. That was fine though, Megumi didn't mind playing the role of doctor. They've all proceeded to strain Shoko enough. "Of course not." Megumi immediately shuts down the idea, using his thumbs to brush his cheeks. "If there was nothing you could do, then it's not your fault. And you're not a bad person. If it were me, wouldn't you say the same thing?"

"Then... why do I feel so terrible? ...Why does it feel like I didn't do enough?" "... Sometimes when there's nothing we can do, we still feel responsible. " They say quietly, chillingly remembering when Sukuna had ripped out Yuuji's heart in front of his eyes, held the poor boy hostage, and then witnessing Yuuji die in front of them with such cruel parting words— " ... Even if nothing could be done... we still hold all of that guilt and shame with us. " "Is it always gonna hurt like this...?" "... It will always hurt, but the pain does lessen over time." Megumi admits, wiping his tears away with their thumbs— "Sometimes pain never really goes away, but we learn how to deal with the pain. We live with it, accept it, and continue on." "I ... I screwed up really bad this time ... " he heaves, pressing his palms to his eyes, burying his face in his palms in shame and disgust, hatred for himself that he buries in his skin. "People died cause of me ... ! I ... This isn't what it was supposed to be like ! " "Hey, listen to me." Megumi tries to pull his hands away from his face, "Look at me. It's impossible to save everyone." Megumi informs him, voice calm and firm, trying to remain even enough to convince Itadori of at least this much. "Even Gojo-sensei would agree with me. You can't protect everyone, you can't save everyone, you don't always know how to react in those situations, and that's okay. It makes you human, Yuuji. " Yuuji lets Megumi have his hands as he looks up at them , his face a little flushed with heat and emotion at once ... and he wants to argue but ... he can't . He knows Megumi's right in the end . " S ... Save everybody you can ... Even if it's just one person ... I couldn't do that... ! I killed thousands of people ... ! If I were dead... the world would be safer for everyone... !" "Are you sure want to say that while your face is in my hands? " Megumi pretends to threaten, squishing his face a little bit to get his attention— "Listen to me: you did not kill all those people. Sukuna killed them. If you were dead, where does that leave me? " their tone is more serious, their expression more emotional, more gentle than ever. "We may have a hard time admitting it and saying it out loud, but you and I both know that what we have is not a normal friendship."( I... I love you, Yuuji Itadori.) "If you were dead, the sun might as well be gone from my world. "

#imo they needed a conversation..... but ig they could have had it offscreen....... 🤔 #itafushi #fushiita #jjk spoilers #kore's posts #to be fair this could continue ig with him chatting with choso..... but yknow..... i'd do it on request

[ljsstories]

Chapter One: Arrivals

Rhona Boyle stood at the gate looking up at the extremely old building that had been in her family for over two centuries and felt a lump form in her throat. The last time she stood at this gate and walked down that little path, she was heading to the big city and to a new life, but now? As she lifted the latch and let the gate swing open, her heart felt heavy and she let the sadness she was keeping inside of her all through the long journey home out into the open. No tears, she would not cry as she walked up the path with concrete feet, dragging one in front of the other with difficulty. She would not shed a tear, she would enter that building with her head held high, with dignity and with dry eyes! It was a difficult few minutes up to the car park as she spotted the familiar, comforting figure standing in the huge doorway. The soothing and deep voice called softly to her, "Hullo ma darlin', welcome hame!" And the tears broke through her barrier of strength as she dropped her bags and fell into her father's giant arms.

"Daddy!" She cried as he squeezed her tenderly. He was a powerful man of sixty two, his balding head once sported a shock of carrot red hair but his hair and his beard were more grey these days than they used to be. Although he wasn't particularly tall, Hamish Boyle was a big man, powerful, he could lift one end of a tractor with ease and he was once the caber tossing champion of the county. He could easily crush his daughter but there was a softer side to him as well, and this side was threatening to come out as he held her protectively. His only daughter! Returning home to the bosom of her family, twenty eight years of age and feeling as if her life was over. Hamish knew it had only just begun, but convincing Rhona of that at this moment in her life was going to be impossible!

"Come inside hen, yer mammy's dyin' tae see ye!" Hamish put a protective arm around her and guided her into the foyer. It had been at least a year since she last stepped foot in her family's hotel. A huge mansion, typically Scottish in every way, that housed the Laird and his wife over two hundred years ago and was handed down the generations until Rhona's grandfather converted it into a tourist spot and hotel in the 1960's. His father before him had conducted tours around the big house where the Boyle family had lived all this time. The house was so big that when Rhona was little and she would play hide and seek with her older brother Lachlan, it took her hours to find him! His hiding places were always so hard to locate. The lobby was unchanged, the same brick walls with coats of arms and crests hanging on them, tapestries and portraits of past Lairds. As she breathed in that familiar smell of old building and fresh baking, she heard her mother's excited squeals as she came breezing out from the reception desk.

"Ohhhhhh!!!" Annie Boyle exclaimed, arms outstretched and running towards her. "Rhona ma darlin'!!!" As she threw her arms around her daughter she squealed even more in her ear. Letting go of her and holding her at arms length she frowned and shook her head. "Yer awfy thin!" she sighed, looking her up and down.

"No mum I'm really not!" Rhona replied impatiently as another familiar voice called to her.

"Ho shorty!!!" The masculine voice boomed around the very large foyer. Her big brother came towards her much like her mother did with his arms wide open for a massive hug!

"Hi-ya Lachie!" She giggled and fell into his embrace.

"Couldnae keep away eh?" He chuckled and squeezed her tightly, almost choking her. "Av a mind tae go up there and gi em a piece a ma mind, and ma fist!" Lachie growled and rubbed her back affectionately.

"And what would that achieve?" Rhona mumbled into his huge chest, Lachie was just as big as his father but he was tall with it too. His messy brown hair fell into his eyes as he let his sister breathe and swept it away with a huge paw. After settling into her old room, which remained unchanged since she left for the bright lights of Glasgow, Rhona headed down to catch up with her family and the staff she hadn't seen for a long time. Mary and Agnes, the cook and her assistant, were exactly the same as when she left too. Still griping at one another but with love and affection. They were sisters, cousins of Rhona's father, but they could not look any more different! Mary was the older sister with greying short hair and an old fashioned sense of everything around her. Agnes on the other hand was red haired like her cousin and always made an effort with her appearance, her long hair was tied up in the kitchen but when she finished work she let it hang down around her shoulders and it made her brown eyes sparkle. Mary had never been married and had worked at the hotel since she was sixteen, she was now in her late sixties and showed no sign of slowing down or retiring. Her cooking was famous all over the county and the hotel was busy at meal times with locals alone nevermind guests staying there. Agnes was widowed, her husband passed away many years ago, he was only thirty two. Kenny Douglas was a farmer, much like the Boyles his family had run their farm for generations. He died during the storm of 1977 while trying to move a fallen tree from the main road with his tractor. Another tree collapsed on top of him and he was killed instantly. He and Agnes were expecting Fergus at the time, he was born two months after his father died and when he was old enough, he took over the running of the farm. Fergus now had a wife and two sons of his own while Agnes moved in to the hotel with her sister fifteen years ago and never left. As Rhona entered the giant kitchen and smiled, Agnes gasped and clapped her hands.

"Wee Rhona!" She declared to her sister who was bending over into the oven.

"Whit?" Mary muttered as she brought out a delicious smelling steak pie.

"Wee Rhona's here Mary!"

"Awww, wee Rhona???" It was comical, Mary was deaf in one ear and Agnes had a very whispery voice. As Rhona embraced them both and said hello, Mary began hacking away at the steak pie. "Yer havin' a piece a this, yer rake thin hen!" Rhona rolled her eyes, everyone was saying that these days!

"No Auntie Mary I'm fine!" She tried to laugh but the comments about her weight were beginning to worry her. Was she really that thin? Agnes seemed to know what she was thinking and said with a sympathetic voice;

"Aye, yer a wee bitty too thin darlin'! But dinnae mind that, Auntie Mary will soon huv ye back tae yer wee curvy self!"

"Aye a will that!" Mary piped up as she slapped a great big piece of pie onto a plate and began muttering to herself, "Just a hawndfa a tatties and some neeps tae colour the plate..."

"Auntie Mary..." Rhona began, but realised that for the first time since she left Glasgow, she actually was very hungry! As she wolfed down the amazing food and listened to all the stories her Aunts had to tell her, she realised that the past year and a half had been a waste of time! Why had she ever left? And why did she think that coming back was such a huge disaster? Next stop for Rhona was the laundry room. Terry, Hannah and Elspeth were there getting the sheets and towels ready for the morning.

"Rhona?" Elspeth was pleased to see her old friend and greeted her with a hug much like everyone else had since she arrived. Terry blushed and gave her a brief cuddle before returning to his work, he had always liked Rhona and when she left he was heartbroken.

"How are you holding up?" Hannah cocked her head to the side and looked at her sympathetically.

"I'm fine Hannah, truly I am!"

"That's good, he's an arse and you're too good for him!" Hannah always spoke her mind, it got her into heaps of trouble but sometimes it was needed.

"Well it's great to see you guys again!" Rhona smiled genuinely, "I've had a long journey and I really need to try and sleep so..."

"Well don't be a stranger!" Elspeth punched her lightly on the arm.

"No, I won't! Dad says I can have my old job back in the bar and lounge so I'll be around!" As Rhona finally arrived back into her old room, she looked around at the old posters and the cuddly toys sitting on the ottoman at her window that looked out to the Loch. She'd missed Loch Tavish, she couldn't swim but her brother and his friends would often jump off the jetty and play there as she watched from the shore. Growing up in the village of Tavish Brig, Rhona always felt like an outsider, she never felt like she fitted in. Living in the big hotel was fun when she was a child, but as she grew older and her parents found odd jobs for her to do, she grew bored of the place. Looking out the window onto the Loch, she couldn't imagine ever being bored of the quiet, tranquil place that she called home. As she got into her pyjamas and climbed into her old bed, smelling the freshly laundered sheets that her mother had no doubt cleaned in anticipation of her daughter's arrival, she thought about Jamie. The reason she was back here in the first place! It hurt to think of him, how little she meant to him, as the hot tears ran down her cheeks and onto the pillow behind her, soaking her hair and dampening her ears, she decided not to think about him anymore! Drifting off to sleep she could hear the lapping of the waves outside and she imagined herself sitting on the jetty on a sunny day, in another world altogether!

***

Lachie Boyle was manning the reception desk the next morning when a young man entered the hotel foyer. He had long brown, shaggy hair, he wore sunglasses and had one suitcase with him, His ripped jeans and loud shirt made Lachie dislike him straight away, that and he was very good looking. When he spotted the desk he gave Lachie a relieved smile and approached him, dropping his case on the floor he leaned on the desk and nodded, "Hey!" he greeted him as Lachie curled up his lip.

"Can a help ye?" He replied as the young man chuckled.

"Yes, yes do you have any rooms left?" He was American, Lachie groaned, tourist! Hideous shirt and grungy jeans, rock star hair, goofy grin with a camera dangling around his neck...the worst kind!

"Aye we dae that!" The young man gave him a confused look.

"I'm sorry, was that a yes?" Lachie let out a huge sigh and attempted to tone down his broad Scots dialect.

"Yes it wiz!"

"Oh good!" The man smiled again, "So can I have a room please?"

"Aye, how long fur?" The young man began to think.

"Um...I dunno to be honest with you!" He shook his head, "Can we say, a week for now? And then I'll see!"

"See whit?"

"A week, yeah, for now. If that's okay?" Lachie frowned and began tapping at the keyboard.

"Right, name?"

"Oz Truman!"

"Okay, fill in this form wie yer address and payment details and a'll get ye a room." Lachie looked the young man up and down, Oz? What sort of name was that? Typical American with a stupid name! He'd be keeping an eye on this one, he had a funny feeling about him!

Next ⏭️

#OtherSidesOfTheWorld #writeblr #writerblr #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #wattpad

[thestruidora]

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: Did y'all miss me? Yeah, I'm sure you didn't.

If anyone is interested in getting to know the magical music genre called forró, I chose a couple of classics that I feel like definitively played on the reader's first and only June Party: O Xote das Meninas Xote Dos Milagres Cintura Fina Morena Tropicana

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661, @bianaguipa, @deezy-061 Thank you so much for your guy’s support!

For those who missed it: Chapter One >> Language Barrier Chapter Two >> Bilingual Chapter Three >> Miscommunication

Chapter Four

Gibberish

She can still remember the laughter. The giggling that came from the back of her throat as she threw her head back, a smile full of teeth spread through her lips. The exhilaration of being with her friends, dancing her heart out.

It was her favorite time of the year. The sounds of the June Party moving on her feet. The rhythmic vibrations of the music's beat coursing through her. The songs, the speaking, the dancing: all at once ringing in her ears. One of her very first alcoholic drinks running through her veins along with all the spinning making her dizzy.

She was the happiest she’s ever been.

Every year her older cousins would travel to the countryside of Bahia's state, where the June festivities were the most elaborate. Her mom, so controlling, so protective, would never let her go. But on the year of her 14th birthday, she begged a little more strongly, pleaded a little more fervently, and now there she was.

It was so much more than she could ever have imagined. Bigger, louder, an explosion of newness to her senses. A big contrast to her secluded life in the city, because everybody knows that being a woman is hard, but being an Omega is harder.

Her mom was mated only a few hours after presenting, a few hours into her first heat, to a man she barely knew and definitely did not love. But still, she was one of the lucky ones. She could have been robbed, kidnapped and trafficked. Because Omegas are rare and the demand is huge, so presenting as one was as good as a death sentence.

But she was still young, she still got time.

And now, finally outside of her mom's vigilant eyes, with her girlfriends dancing by her side and the pulse of the *forró guiding her body she could allow herself to be carefree.

“Rapaz, que secura!” Lana screamed, complaining about the heat.

“É, tá um calor desgraçado.” Gabriela agreed, fanning herself with her hands, droplets of sweat trickling down her forehead and into her exposed cleavage.

Y/N simply laughed at her friends, they were a couple years older than her, but not necessarily more mature. Of course it was hot, they’ve been dancing for a long time, and even in the open space with the night air hanging over them, the place was so crowded that they would barely move while trying to get to the open bar.

She watched as the girls got their beverages, gobbling them down as if they were the first drinks they had in ages. But suddenly, the permanent smile that had been plastered on her face throughout the night died, something curious shifting inside of her. It was a unique feeling, one she never experienced before. It had started as a tightness in her lower abdomen, but it was growing into a sharp pain.

“Você tá bem?” Lana asked if she was ok, noticing the grimace in her features.

She tried to shake her head yes, but it came out the exact opposite as she doubled down on herself, her hands pressing on her stomach as she frowned, the pain becoming unbearable. Were these cramps? Was she about to get her period in the middle of this party?

But no, it wasn’t that. Somehow in the back of her mind, she knew this was different. She had begun to sweat, but not from the crowd or the dancing, there was this intense hotness forming within her.

She noticed a couple of men standing on the edges of the party space, in the shadows, almost camouflaged. Their eyes were predatory, fixated on her, they shined with a sinister glow, reflecting the flickering red light of the bonfire. Her friends called to her, guiding her to walk across to one of the tables, helping her sit down. When she looked again, the men were gone. Was she going mad?

“A gente vai ver se encontra Ibuprofeno, fica aí.” Gabriela said this time, or was it Lana again? They left, said something about looking for painkillers, she wasn’t paying attention, the pain was too much and so were the smells. All of the sudden, she felt like she could smell every single thing and every single one in the whole place.

She could smell the perfume, and the liquor, the sweet and the savory foods, altogether but also individually, it was overwhelming. She could smell the people, not their body wash or their shampoo, but their true scents. Some were warm and some were cold, some too strong and others too bland. And then there were two that were getting closer, too close, and these stung in her nostrils. Her vision had gone blurry and she couldn’t tell much of what was happening around her at that point, but she knew she wasn’t alone.

Shaking from the pain, shivering even though she was burning up, she looked up just fast enough to get a look at the two men from before, standing right behind her. One of them covered her eyes with his hand and the other covered her mouth. A muffled scream and a couple of weak punches were all she could do before they pulled her up from her chair, completely immobilizing her.

She trashed and struggled about, but to no avail. They were big and strong and she was small and frail.

“Shhh, Omega.” One of them whispered in her ear, and as if under a spell, she did just what was asked of her, her free will hushed. Something about his voice, and their touch, turned the pang in between her legs into a tingle.

And that’s when she knew: she had presented and this was her first heat.

They dragged her pliable body into the woods of the rural countryside, the sway of the forró getting left behind, her mother’s voice playing on a loop inside her head, “Be careful”, she always said.

Everything went dark, she could only make out flashes of information. The roughness of their hands and the graveness of their voices as they spoke to each other, laughing to themselves about how much she was worth, the way they sniffed at her neck, exhaling with satisfaction.

At some point, the grass of the forest turned into asphalt underneath her feet, and she was blindfolded and tied up, her lips taped as she was thrown into the back of a car. She could only whimper, her heat burning inside of her.

Shifting in and out of conciseness, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, couldn’t differentiate hours from days anymore. From time to time she would feel the prick of a needle going into her arm, and then it was all darkness again. She remembered being cold, shivering about as more rough hands grabbed at her. Were these the same ones from before or no? Had Lana or Gabriela reported her missing? Was anyone coming for her?

Eventually, it all stopped.

There was a cushiony softness below her, a thin sheet of fabric above her. When Y/N carefully tried to open her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was greeted by light. Not the warm sunshine that often peeked through the windows of her bedroom in the mornings, but a cold, harsh light that came from a singular light bulb attached to the ceiling.

No longer tied or muzzled, she slowed sat up in the single bed, looking around. There was nothing covering her figure but the bedding, not even underwear. She found herself in a tiny room: four concrete white walls, a small barred window and a closed door.

Her heat was over, she could feel it, no more fire burning in her loins. She disentangled herself from the bed sheet, getting up too quickly, ignoring her nakedness and the dizziness, heading straight for the door. It was locked, of course.

Finally feeling sober enough to allow the rage to bubble up inside, she began to furiously bang on the door with clenched fists, kicking it, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Hey!” A male voice boomed just outside, appearing suddenly, as if he was already waiting right there. “Yapma!” He hit the metal of the door, hard, making it shake slightly.

She retreated, startled, analyzing the situation. She had no idea what he had said, but gathering from the brutality with which it was uttered, it couldn't have been good. She didn't even know where she'd been taken, but she had an idea why.

More male voices were spoken on the other side of the wall, in that language she did not know. Something electronic beeped, then it let out a subtle ping sound, and just like that the door was sprung open. Two men walked in, the first thing she noticed was the gun one of them was carrying, while the other came in with a paper file in his hands. She backed away into the corner of the room, trying to cover her exposed chest and genitals with her hands, their big Alpha bodies taking over the space, making her feel even more intimidated.

“Nasıl hissediyorsun?” The one with the file said to her, his words sounding like a reserved recording to her brain. He was older, maybe in his late forties, greying hair at the top of his head, a light blue suit framing his ample shoulders.

When she didn’t answer, simply stood there against the wall, trying to control her labored breathing and the sheer fear that had taken over her body, causing even her inner organs to shake, he gave her a once over, opening the file and scanning through whatever was written there.

“Brazil, huh?” He arched one of his brows. “Can you understand me now?” He asked her, deliberately enunciating every word.

Y/N swallowed the sigh that was trying to leave her lips, staring at the gun, wide-eyed.

“Dumb bitch.” The man in the suit murmured to himself, snapping a finger in her face, getting her attention. “You’ve been on sedatives for a long time, little one. How are you feeling?” He said it as slow as he could, as if speaking to an animal. “Do you got a tummy-ache or a headache?” He rubbed his belly while saying ‘tummy’ and touched his temples while saying ‘head’.

She only frowned at him, a crease forming in between her eyebrows. He scoffed, leaning forward, letting his light-colored eyes roam over the valley of her breasts.

“Or maybe you’re just cranky cause you didn’t get no Alpha dick inside that tight little pussy yet.” Before he could finish his words, she was already propelling the whole weight of her body into her closed fist as she punched him in the face, fear turning into fury.

“Oh!” He growled, covering his bleeding nose, quickly walking away from her, face contorted in pain. “Shoot her!” He yelled at the other man, who promptly pointed his gun at her.

“Não!” She shouted out, closing her eyes and attempting to protect her face with her hands. A blunt sound echoed in the room and she felt something sharp go into her leg. Before she had enough time to come to the conclusion that it was tranquilizer dart, her eyes rolled back into their sockets and blackness welcomed her once again.

*

Five years had passed with her locked in that place, slowly forgetting where her mom’s face wrinkled the most when she was angry, or the exact shade of her eyes, the particular timbre of her voice. Y/N was slowly going mad, losing all hope of ever being rescued by the hero that always came to her in her dreams.

She was fourteen when she was taken, highly prized for her young age and virginity. They tried to sell her to the highest bidder many times, but she fought like an Alpha. Biting, roaring at anyone that came too close. Some of the men even began to doubt she was a real Omega, but ever so often her heat came and it reminded them. Emir, the big boss of the operation, sometimes would come to her doorstep during those times, tap at door and use his Alpha voice, laughing when she had to bit her own lips to control the moans his presence was causing.

But in the end, she wasn’t genetically compatible with anyone, and even those that wanted her for her fierceness were disappointed to find that her DNA did not match with theirs. A part of her was happy she had never been sold and probably never would be, just for the simple satisfaction of knowing that her body wouldn’t give those men any profit.

So there she stayed, locked up, imprisoned, hearing the sounds of the other girls crying in their rooms while she got on her tiptoes, trying to catch glimpses of the outside world through her only window, waiting.

It had been a while since she last saw Emir when the door made it’s telltale beep and was opened by him, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

“Hello there, my Latin beauty.” He smiled an evil smile at her, but she didn’t pay it any mind, focused on the redhead woman that was beside him, looking at Y/N with sorrow in her eyes. “See, Widow? I told you my girls are gorgeous, look at her.”

The woman let a displeased noise at his words, coming closer to Y/N, who gave her a distrustful look.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” Emir answered for her.“Oh, and she doesn’t talk.”

“Excuse me, what do you mean?”Natasha turned to him, her short red locks moving with her.“She’s mute?”

“Nah, she just doesn’t know any English.”

“Oh.” She gave the girl one more pitiful stare, but Y/N felt like she was looking right through her.

*

Leaving the facility was like a dream and a nightmare all at the same time. While finally being free was wonderful, Y/N knew that such freedom would come at a cost. The woman, Natasha Romanoff, wasn’t the best at Portuguese, but knew enough of it in order for them to communicate.

Y/N didn’t say much when they gave her a suitcase full of brand-new clothes and guided her out of that God-forsaken place. She didn’t say a word when a dark-haired man tried to take the suitcase from her hands, Natasha said his name was James and that he was only trying to be chivalrous, something about the 1940’s that she didn’t quite understand.

She remained quiet as Natasha tried her best to explain to her that a man’s life was at stake, that Captain America was dying of a terrible rut sickness, and that he was compatible with her and her alone. That yes, she had been bought like cattle, but it was for noble reasons, because Steve Rogers was an honorable man, a hero and his destiny was in her hands.

She kept all of her thoughts to herself as Natasha pulled up a ‘Rut Companion’ contract, stipulating that once Y/N had served her purpose and Mr. Rogers was out of danger and well, she would receive a large sum of money and could walk away from all of this, go anywhere she wanted and do whatever she pleased. Even after signing it, she resigned herself to silence.

And of course, she didn’t say anything when they boarded a jet to the United States, not even a word about the fact that she was actually fluent in English.

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#STEVE ROGERS IMAGINE #STEVE ROGERS FANFICTION #CAPTAIN AMERICA IMAGINE #MCU IMAGINE #MCU FANFICTION #CAPTAIN AMERICA FANFICTION #IMAGINE ABO #STEVE ROGERS ABO #STEVE ROGERS ALPHA #READER OMEGA #STEVE ROGERS X READER #CAPTAIN AMERICA X READER #ALPHA BETA OMEGA #STEVE ROGERS SMUT #CAPTAIN AMERICA SMUT #CHRIS EVANS #MCUFAM #AVENGERS ENDGAME #AVENGERS IMAGINE #AVENGERS FANFICTION #landslide chapter 4

[s-brant]

The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

[drabbles-mc]

Could you do a HC on how the Mayans men would react to a girl getting hit on at a bar and the guy not taking no for an answer, like they don't know her or anything. I feel like they all respect women enough to at least do something about it; ya know?

All of the Mayans men wake up every day and drink a full pitcher of Respect Women Juice. They will not tolerate disrespect in their house. HC’s under the cut!

(I couldn’t decide if i wanted to do third person or reader insert for these but I settled on reader insert. Hopefully it works alright)

Bishop:

-Senses the tension immediately 

-My man sits back and watches the entire clubhouse all night. He knows everything that’s going on. And when he notices that some guy is refusing to leave you alone, he instantly gets up and goes to intervene.

-He’s not hot-headed about it. He doesn’t have the time or the energy for that anymore. But he places himself between the two of you, looking back and forth, “Everything alright here?”

-The guy would try to brush it off and reassure him that yea, of course everything is okay you can leave now. But Bishop wouldn’t have any of that. He’d cut him off mid-sentence, “I wasn’t fucking asking you.”

-He’d turn to you and ask again if you’re alright. You’d give a slight shake of her head no, not wanting to stir up drama but also not wanting to deal with this dude anymore. And that’s all it would take.

-”I think you should leave,” he wouldn’t yell. Just state it as a fact. But when the guy would try to argue that’s when he would get a little more heated. He’d step in closer to the dude’s face, but not putting hands on him, “I said you should fucking leave.”

-Bishop only uses yelling and brute force as a last resort. Very rarely does it ever come to that. He would follow the guy all the way to the clubhouse door, making sure that he actually leaves before going back to check on the poor girl that he was harassing. He 100% lingers close for the rest of the night to make sure no one bothers you.

Angel:

-King of being the Fake Boyfriend.

-My tall boy might be emotionally illiterate sometimes but he can read a social situation. When he sees a girl scrambling to try and come up with excuses to make a guy leave her alone, he has no problem inserting himself into the situation. 

-Smooth as fuck walking up to you, greeting you while resting a protective hand on your shoulder. Instantly setting the tone to whoever is talking to you that this was a useless endeavor.

- "Hey, querida,” he’d wait for you to look at him, “Sorry, didn’t see you walk in. You get a drink already? Want me to get you something?”

-The look in his eyes would let you know that he’s offering you an out to the uncomfortable situation that you’re in. He’s not trying to flirt--he’s just trying to drive away whatever asshole wasn’t catching the hint that you didn’t want to talk.

- "Who the fuck are you?” this is a problem that the guy did not see coming.

-Angel would look at him, eyes narrow, “I’m her boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?”

- The question is rhetorical. It doesn’t matter who the guy is. Angel doesn’t give him a chance to answer. He steps closer to the guy, towering over him. He looks down at him and is practically begging the guy to say something stupid so he has an excuse to physically throw him out the front door.

- He doesn’t get the chance, though. The guy reads the cue, knows that it’s a fight that he will not win, and walks away.

- Angel would turn back to you, “You good? Sorry about that. Didn’t seem like he was getting the hint.”

- You’d shake your head, “He wasn’t. Thank you, I appreciate the assist.”

- “No problem,” he’d pause, “But forreal did you get a drink already? First round on me.”

Ezekiel:

- Y’all remember the casino scenes with the cops? That’s how he handles shit.

- Master of keeping his cool in frustrating situations. Completely follows your lead. He sees a lot of weird interactions being on the serving side of the bar, always clocking what’s happening in front of him in case he has to step in.

-He’d notice you rolling your eyes and giving short answers. He’d also notice that the guy either isn’t picking up the cues, or is willfully ignoring them. EZ catches your eyes a few times, silently asking if you want him to step in. You shake your head--the guy is annoying but harmless for the time being.

- Then he tries to touch you. Casually reaching for your shoulder, trying to rest his hand on your knee. You recoil, trying to create more space between the two of you. He doesn't care though.

- That’s when EZ can’t keep it to himself anymore. He’d sigh, not looking up from the glasses that he’s cleaning, “I don’t think she’s into you, man.”

- You and the man would both turn to look at him, each of you with a surprised expression on your faces. You’d stay quiet, wanting to see how the situation was going to play out. The man next to you would scoff, “I don’t remember you being part of this fucking conversation.”

- “I might as well be if I have to sit here and watch it. You’re the only one out of the three of us not suffering from how uncomfortable this is.”

- His commentary would ruffle some feathers. The man next to you would get defensive, “No one asked for your fucking opin--”

- Knowing that EZ had your back would give you a little extra confidence, “You should listen to him,” you nod, “He’s right. We’re suffering.”

- He’d be caught off-guard by the two of you teaming up on him. Realizing it wouldn't be worth the fight, he’d huff and walk away. EZ would watch him and chuckle, calling after him, “Least you could do is pay your fucking tab!”

- You’d laugh, glad to be done with the uncomfortable situation, “His drink and whatever you want are all on me tonight. As a thank you.”

- He’d give you that little smirk, “Don’t mention it.”

Coco:

- Zero tolerance policy.

- Not coy or polite about it at all.

-Instantly uses himself as a barrier between you and whatever guy it is that’s not leaving you alone. He might not be the biggest guy in the MC, but he sure as hell carries himself like he is when the situation calls for it.

-Will not hesitate to get nose-to-nose with whoever is bothering you. If someone wants to invade your space, he’ll invade theirs. Fair is fair.

- “You really can’t take a fuckin’ hint, huh?” he’d shake his head.

- “What’s your problem?” the man’s voice would sound confident but the look in his eyes would show that he really didn't want a problem with whoever this guy was getting in his face.

- “You. Fuckin’ beat it,” he’d jerk his head towards the door, “Don’t come back, either.”

- Coco carries himself with the confidence of a man that will make someone pay dearly for coming back uninvited. Confrontational situations usually resolve themselves quickly. People tend to not want to mess with him if they can avoid it.

-When the guy inevitably leaves not just you, but the clubhouse altogether, Coco finally turns back to you, “You good, ma?”

- You nod, watching him light up a cigarette, “Uh, yea. I’m good. Thanks for that.”

- He nods, blowing out a puff of smoke, “We’ll make sure that fucker never comes back.”

Hank:

- The only thing that Hank Loza drinks is Respect Women Juice. When he runs across someone that doesn’t, it gets out of hand really quickly.

-Bull in a china shop.

- The same man who is usually calm and cool and collected, physically removes whoever it is that is causing a problem. The guys have tried to teach him deescalation skills but it never sticks. It’s the only thing that Hank gets heated about so they all let it go at this point.

- Hank isn’t a small dude. When he steps toe-to-toe with someone he almost always out-sizes them. They get about 5 seconds to hear what he says and leave on their own before he removes them on his own.

- “You should leave her alone,” the friendly suggestion is really anything but.

- The guys are almost always cocky, not thinking that anything is actually going to happen to them, “Or what, tough guy?”

- They ignored their first and only warning. What happens next is all on them. Hank grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, lifting him from the ground. His voice is quiet, which is way more terrifying than yelling, “Let’s find out.”

- Hank lifts and carries the guy out, on the brink of dragging him like a caveman. The guy is yelling in protest, trying to swing, but Hank is unfazed.

- He throws the guy down the steps of the clubhouse, giving a final warning not to come back. No longer in an agumentative mood, the man takes off in a desperate attempt to avoid getting further tossed around.

- When he goes back into the clubhouse, the rest of the guys have moved on from the situaiton--to them it was business as usual for Hank. You, on the other hand, didn't see the situation unfolding that way at all. He walked back up to you, the anger gone from his face, a gentle smile there instead.

- “Are you alright?” he looks you over as if to make sure you didn't get hurt in the midst of it all.

- “Yea,” you nod, “I’m...I’m fine. Thanks. You...you didn’t have to do all that.”

- He’d chuckle, knowing that for him it was the only course of action, “Of course I did,” he’d gently rest his hand on the outside of your arm, “Let me know if anyone else gives you any trouble.”

Creeper:

- The smaller version of Hank, tbh. Constantly out here Respecting Women.

- Remember that scene where he catches a shotgun that’s tossed to him and immediately starts shooting on the highway?? That’s the energy he has when dealing with men who disrespect women.

- Cannot easily lift and remove men the same way Hank does, but he will throw hands without hesitation.

- The guys told him no more threatening with guns in the clubhouse. So fists will have to suffice.

- Does not offer a warning to the guy. If someone is being pushy or rude, they don’t deserve a heads-up. He will try to get your attention in some way first, to make sure that you want him to intervene. If he thinks that it’s going to get out of hand, or if you let him know with a pleading look that you could use the assist, he is instantly throwing himself into the middle of it.

- He’d catch your eye, motioning back and forth between you and the man in front of you to ask if you need an out. You’d give him a slight nod and that’s all it would take.

- Walking up, he grabs the guy by his shoulder and turns him around, “Hey, motherfucker,” he’d shove him towards the door of the clubhouse, “Leave.”

- Caught off-guard, the man would shove him back. Fully-bruised ego shining through, “Keep your hands off me.”

- That’s when you’d hear the first crack of a fist colliding with someone’s jaw. Your eyes would go wide, not ever having seen Creeper get like this. His focus would be completely on the man stumbling towards the ground in front of him, “I said get the fuck out.”

- It usually doesn’t take more than one punch to get his point across. HIs muscles aren’t just for show--getting clocked by him fucking hurts. They’re lucky that he’s not big on wearing rings.

- Once the threat is neutralized, he instantly shifts back into his quiet, gentler self to check in with you. He sees the surprise in your face at how things unfolded and he holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m done, promise.”

- It’d get you to laugh. You can see it in his expression that it’s almost like a switch he can flip on and off. “Um. Thank you. That...isn’t what I was expecting. But thank you.”

- “Are you alright?” he’d sit down next to you, mindful to give you some space.

- “Yea, I’m good. How’s your hand?”

- He’d chuckle, “All good. Nothing new.”

Okay this was a lot of fun. I love all these dorks. Hope you enjoyed! xo

#ask #asks #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayansmc #mayans fx #angel reyes #bishop losa #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #hank loza #tranq loza #creeper vargas #neron vargas #coco cruz #johnny coco cruz #Anonymous #hc #mayans hc #mayans mc hc #drabblesmc

[asweetprologue]

tension in a touch

Octoberfest 5: Hover

People were afraid of Geralt.

As Geralt’s half-official barker, Jaskier was deeply aware of this. His main obstacle in improving Geralt’s reputation was not hate, despite what Geralt thought. The witcher didn’t discuss it much, but when people shied away from him, when their heart rates skyrocketed, when they cast him sideways glances, Geralt assumed it was because they despised what he was. A mutant, a freak of nature, a monster. And he was right, in many ways, but Jaskier thought Geralt sometimes didn’t quite understand why human beings hated things. Almost always it was because of fear, and Geralt made people nervous. Jaskier was there to comfort them, and then to rally them. It was a process. 

Unfortunately, as they began traveling together Jaskier realized that he was afraid of the witcher too. It wasn’t something he was proud of, and he hoped Geralt never picked up on it. Jaskier was drawn to the man anyways, of course. He’d been able to smell the adventure on him from across the tavern in Posada, literally. Dirt from the road, old blood rust and an air of tragedy clung to the man like a thick cloak. It had been a moment of clear and crystalized genius, when his eyes settled on Geralt. Jaskier had known that he would follow the witcher across the Continent even before he’d heard the man speak. 

But all his enthusiasm didn’t mean that Geralt stopped being intimidating as shit. Jaskier, fresh faced and still not used to the rough and tumble way of the world, was a little scared of him. Geralt was careful, always projecting his movements and making himself obvious, but something in Jaskier’s hindbrain still raised its hackles and screamed at him to run anytime Geralt was near. It was pure instinct, an animal recognition of a predator nearby. 

But it just wouldn’t do. If he was going to convince the world that Geralt deserved to be praised for his deeds, great as they were, he couldn’t be afraid of his own muse. So Jaskier decided that he would just do the exact opposite of whatever his instincts told him to do, until they learned to behave. 

He forced himself to be close to the witcher, all the time. At night when they settled down to sleep, Jaskier desperately wanted to put his bedroll on the other side of the fire. Instead, he plopped right down next to Geralt, receiving a brief glare that made him sweat. When they ate at taverns, Jaskier sat in Geralt’s space, instead of allowing the table to act as a barrier between them. After hunts, he made himself help wash off the worst of the muck and blood and ichor, at least so that people wouldn’t truly bolt at the first sight of Geralt down the street. 

Over time, he found that his palms sweat less, his fingers were steadier, and his heart stayed calm in his chest even when he was pressed shoulder to shoulder with the witcher. Geralt was often snappy, peevish and foul tempered, but he never hurt Jaskier after the first punch to the gut. And that was really on Jaskier for bringing up Blaviken. Generally speaking, Geralt was perhaps even overly cautious. He never returned Jaskier’s friendly gestures, carefully keeping distance between them as if he expected Jaskier to startle at every brush of their fingers. And he had, in the beginning. But slowly he felt himself grow less jumpy, a part of him learning to recognize that Geralt wasn’t going to harm him. 

It was fine, the neutral ground Jaskier had been searching for. Things might have stayed that way, if not for the cockatrice hunt. 

Jaskier had insisted on going along, as they were exceptionally rare creatures. He might never get the chance to watch Geralt fight another, he reasoned, and had worn Geralt down though a slow process of argumentation supplemented by a few strategically placed ales. Geralt had reluctantly agreed, warning Jaskier that he had to stay well away from the fight. 

They had both underestimated the beast. Jaskier got too close, he could admit; Geralt wasn’t paying him any mind, focused on dodging the creature’s massive tail and razor honed beak. It was a fascinating fight. The cockatrice was like a strange mix between a rooster and a lizard, its beady eyes watching Geralt intently as it used the ends of its hooked wings to claw into the ground. The fight was fast, almost too fast for Jaskier to follow. Geralt was like water, here one moment and gone the next, baiting the creature into reckless attacks and popping up somewhere else to hack at its flank. Occasionally the cockatrice would attempt to take off, and a concussive burst of aard would echo across the small field that they fought in, knocking it back towards the ground. 

Everything would have been fine, truly, if Jaskier hadn’t seen Geralt get knocked over by the cocktrice’s tail. He shouted in alarm from his place on the hill, far enough away not to draw attention to himself, if he’d kept his silence. The cockatrice, circling Geralt, looked up sharply at the sound, interested in a potentially less threatening meal. Milky eyes focused on him, and Jaskier felt panic pulse through his chest, so strong he wondered how he ever could have called his nervousness around Geralt fear at all. As the cockatrice turned to advance on him, he knew this was what real fear was. 

In that moment, Jaskier didn’t think. He didn’t do the smart thing, which would probably have been to run back towards the village and try to take shelter amongst the smattering of houses there. He didn’t do the cowardly thing, ducking down to try and hide where he was. Instead, he did the incredibly stupid thing, and ran towards Geralt. The cockatrice, being directly in his path, was probably thrilled. 

Jaskier ran faster than he ever had in his life. The cockatrice was barrelling towards him, and Jaskier took off at an angle, rushing down the small incline towards Geralt, who was already up from where he’d been knocked prone. Jaskier could see the moment that the situation caught up with him, Geralt’s eyes going wide and panicked as he realized the danger. Jaskier didn’t think he’d ever seen Geralt move above a light jog before. The man usually let monsters come to him, rather than the other way around, but he was running now. He was amazingly fast, and Jaskier wondered who was faster. Geralt, or the monster. 

The cockatrice had flown up, gaining some distance. Probably to dive down and catch him with some momentum. It gave Jaskier a precious extra moment, but he could sense the bird-like creature getting ready to move. Geralt was only feet away now, sword held in reverse as he sprinted towards him, and Jaskier’s lungs were burning with exertion and fear. The cockatrice let out a shriek above them, and Jaskier heard a rush of air past its wings as it dove towards them. 

Jaskier ducked. 

Geralt slammed into him almost at the same instant that the cockatrice did, throwing Jaskier bodily to the ground as a shimmering golden field sprung up around them both. The cockatrice slammed into it full force, its huge body impacting with a horrible cracking sound and spinning off to the side. Geralt winced at the force of it, the quen shield shattering apart harmlessly. He was curled protectively around Jaskier’s fallen form, one hand - the one that had been holding his sword, now abandoned - clutching the back of Jaskier’s head. Protecting him from hitting the ground when he fell. 

For one brief moment the two of them were still, Jaskier fighting to get his bearings as Geralt hovered above him. Their faces were inches apart, Geralt’s panting breath ghosting over Jaskier’s cheek. His palm was warm against the back of his neck, and his strong thighs bracketed Jaskier’s hips in a grounding press of limbs. Though the danger had not yet passed, Jaskier felt a sense of pure, undiluted relief wash over him. Geralt was here, and nothing could hurt him. 

It lasted only a second before Geralt was back on his feet, stalking over to the fallen cockatrice. The creature’s wing had been greviously injured in the fall, and it was no hardship for Geralt to dispatch it once he retrieved his sword. Jaskier sat up slowly, wincing at his newfound bruises. Better than a cockatrice talon in the back of his skull, he thought, but he’d still be sore in the morning. 

Geralt stomped back over to him as soon as he’d finished the job. “I told you to stay back,” he growled. His face was stormy, but Jaskier had seen his expression just before the cocktrice dove. It had been just as panicked as Jaskier had felt, a naked fear and determination that Jaskier had never seen on Geralt’s face in battle before. He’d been worried. He was worried still. “I never should have let you come,” he grumbled, kneeling. Warm hands pressed over Jaskier’s shoulders, his chest, working their way through his hair to check for injuries. Where once it might have made Jaskier nervous, now he only felt warmth blossom under his breastbone. 

Placing a hand over Geralt’s where it rest just under his collarbone, he said, “I’m alright, Geralt. I’m not hurt.”

Geralt glared at him. “Not for lack of trying, bard. What possessed you to shout at it like that?”

Jaskier blushed. He was winded from the sprint, heart still pounding away in his chest at how close he’d come to serious harm, so hopefully Geralt would attribute the flush to exertion. “I, ah. Saw you fall. I was afraid you’d been hurt.”

A strong eye roll was directed his way. Whoever said witchers couldn’t feel apparently didn’t recognize annoyance as an emotion, because Geralt was clearly experiencing it. “I would have been fine, Jaskier. You could have died.” His hand was still on Jaskier’s chest, over his slowing heart. Jaskier was supremely comforted by the touch, in a way that perhaps should have been concerning. 

He gave Geralt a look he hoped was sufficiently chagrined. “It does seem I owe you my life, witcher. I hope to be able to repay you.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Just don’t go shouting at any more cockatrices in the near future.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaskier said, and then added, “but I know you’d be there to rescue me if I did.” He gave Geralt a grin, to take a bit of the edge off of the statement. It was too much, he knew, too much trust to put in the witcher’s hands. 

He was rewarded with an embarrassed huff of breath, and was allowed to watch as Geralt’s ears turned just faintly red. It was amusing, but Jaskier knew deep down that it wasn’t a joke. From then on, Geralt would always mean safety to him.

#october2020 #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #my work #fan fiction #fic #witcher #the witcher #I don't know how much I like this one tbh #I was kind of planning something different with it and it got away from me #maybe i'll expand on it later #anyways enjoy

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Familiar Cerulean Eyes

Might change title later. 

Omegaverse: Alpha Dabi X Omega Reader, also a little bit of Alpha Shoto x Omega Reader. 

Summary (Kinda?): Reader was sold to the Todoroki family to be Touya Todoroki’s mate when they reached of age due to the readers nullification skin quirk (I don’t know what to call it). Endevor was 100% sure that Touya would present as an Alpha and the reader has been showing signs of being an Omega since early childhood. However, after Touya died *Ahem*, Endevor kept reader around with the plans of giving her to one of his other kids if they showed promise. Shoto being the one that was chosen for her after he presented. However things go sideways when she is kidnapped by Dabi. 

Notes: Reader has a nullification quirk that only works on her own body. Basically her skin acts as a barrier and anything that is made from a quirk cannot effect her. Example being that she isn’t burnt by any of the Todoroki’s fire, by the airborn effects such as the smoke that she inhales still cause damage. Physical quirks like Kirishima wouldn’t be affected by her quirk. Also piercing quirks that deal with getting past her skin like Toga’s or Stains would still affect her. Feel free to ask questions! 

Also this is a slow burn. There is no smut in this part but I expect there will be at some point. 

Click here for a full list of parts! Part 2  

Word count: 3.5 K 

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Fire. It was everywhere. You had never seen a fire this large, you were completely engulfed in the flames, yet you weren’t burning. You’re quirk was the reasoning, preventing any damage to you from outside quirks. That was the entire reason that the alpha Enji Todoroki bought you, because he knew you couldn’t be harmed by the current inferno that was his eldest son Touya Todoroki.

“Y/N!” Came the gruff Alpha voice of the current number two hero, glaring down at you. “Make him stop before he burns this whole place down.”

You shivered, even at such a young age, you showed all the tale tell signs of being an Omega. You wanted to tuck tail and run away from the angry Alpha glaring down at you, but you didn’t dare. Glancing back at the raging inferno, you hesitated, while it wouldn’t burn you to touch the fire, it didn’t make it any less terrifying.

“GO!” The smack across your petite face made you chirp loudly with pain, covering your swelling cheek with your hand, tears springing to your eyes.

The fire in front of you both suddenly switched to a different hue, and you could tell that it was burning even hotter than before. The fire was the last time you looked at something with that shade of blue and enjoyed it.

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Piercing blue eyes glared at you from across the room as you gathered up the plates from the table. They followed your every move and you could feel your omega begging to release out a distress scent or to chirp or anything under the terrifying glare of the imposing Alpha. Why was he still here?

“Y/N, I will accompany you to the market today.  I have a couple things I need to get anyways.” Shoto was releasing his usual calming scent but he wasn’t even looking at you. He was watching the news on his phone, completely ignoring whatever conversation his father was trying to have with him.  

“Okay, great.” You tried to keep your voice even as you finished up the dishes quickly. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Your omega even more so, but you should of paid attention to how you worded your response.

“He is an Alpha and you will regard him as such!” The larger Alpha’s voice rang throughout the house and you could feel your body freeze against it’s own will. You let out the softest of all chirps, hearing the chair scratch against the floor as he stood up, the temperature in the room raising.

“I am not her Alpha yet. She can address me as she pleases!” Shoto’s own alpha voice rang out against his father’s, steam building in the room as the hot and cold met. You closed your eyes and slapped an imaginary hand across your omegas mouth to keep her quiet. If you didn’t react, he would leave you alone.

“Let’s go Y/N. I’ll have the car pulled around.” You immediately turned and dashed from the room following Shoto’s quick stride, only stopping to quickly bow to Enji, your eyes downcast.

Once in the car, Shoto let out a soft sigh, his eyes watching outside the window. It was a Saturday, and he didn’t have classes for the day which is the only reason you were allowed outside of the house, away from the protective scent of the pack.

“I’m sorry, Shoto… I should have chosen my words more carefully.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t even glance at you, causing a slight frown to cross your face. He had grown so detached from you recently since he had told you he wanted to wait until he graduated from UA to bond with you. You had been totally fine with the request, and in all honesty you were relieved. You had grown up together, and you knew that one day it would have to happen, but you were very much so uncomfortable with the thought of being intimate with Shoto. You knew he probably felt just as uncomfortable. But that didn’t stop your Omega from worrying about the fact that Shoto may never want to be with you like that.

“A-are we okay?” You could feel your omega start to stress, a sour smell filling up the car as you crossed your arms around yourself feeling the overwhelming anxiety creeping in of a mate that would never want you. You knew from the day that your family sold you to the Todoroki’s because of your quirk that life wouldn’t be a fairy tale, but you had always latched onto the fact that the Todoroki pups were so sweet to you from the moment you met. After your to be mate, Touya had died, Shoto was always there to tell you it wasn’t your fault. You had hoped that you could at least be happy with him.

Shoto finally looked at you, his nose scrunching up at the smell emiting from your omega, him releasing his own calming scent, much stronger than at the house. Waving you over to him you shuffled across the seat and up against his warm left side, desperately trying to keep your emotions in check. He pulled your hair back and nuzzling up against your scent glands trying to calm you down the way he often saw other alphas do, making sure to scent you lightly so that you would be safe at the market from other alphas.

“Y/N, relax, we are fine. It will all be fine. Once I graduate and become a pro hero, we can bond and we won’t have to stay in that awful house anymore. Then you can nest all you want and no one will take it apart. I promise. I’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

You relaxed once you were engulfed in his scent, peppermint filling up your nose. While he was a couple years younger than you, you knew he would make a great alpha. He did genuinely care about you, and you knew he would always protect you and keep you safe. He wouldn’t get mad at you when you “made a mess” of your room nesting. Maybe one day you two would be able to be proper mates and there will be a different kind of love there. Maybe some pups of your own. 

The car had pulled to a stop and you let Shoto finish up scenting you to cover up your own omega smell before you both exited the car. Shoto offered you his hand to help you out which you happily took, and was a little shocked when he didn’t immediately let go of it. His grip was light and awkward but at least he was trying to show you it was okay. It was short lived though when about ten feet into the market it was too crowded to even hold hands. Instead you lightly gripped onto the back of his shirt following him closely as he weaved through the crowd.

You followed him like that for about ten minutes, only briefly pausing at stalls to pick up the short grocery list that you had brought with you for the week. Only after the list was complete did he finally stop at a stall with freshly made Soba. Rolling your eyes as he weighed his choices as to have it hot or cold you looked around the market.

Something smelled… familiar… but also new at the same time. It was hard to pick it out over all of the mingling scents from the many different people around you. You also weirdly felt like you were being watched. Glancing around you didn’t see anyone staring at you that you noticed, and what was weird about it was that your Omega didn’t feel threatened. Shrugging it off as Shoto turned to ask you what your order was, the world around you exploded into chaos.

“Fire!” Screams surrounded you at every turn and the air turned foul as all of the panicked scents filled the air. Soot covered people’s faces and you could feel the heat of the fire but couldn’t see where it was coming from. Shoto was gone from your sight and immediately your Omega screamed out for him to come back. Desperately wanting to smell his familiar and comforting scent again. You were shoved to the ground by a passing beta group and you felt a sharp pain in your wrist as you braced yourself against the ground.

“Shoto!” Tears were streaming down your face and you weren’t even sure when you started crying. Everything was getting hazy and the smoke in the area was making it hard to see or breathe. The fire must be close if it was affecting you like this. Briefly you wondered if you were in the fire yourself. You could hear others calling out and screaming to run around you but you were frozen to your spot in fear. You hated fire. Everything about it was awful. Memories started swimming in your head of cerulean blue eyes and a fire that matched them as well as the red fires that emanated from the Alpha back at home that hated you.

You felt yourself curl up in a tight ball on the floor behind the food stall, your omega chirping wildly, desperately just wanting Shoto to come back and take you away from all of this. Where did he even go? Probably to go be a hero and put the fire out, but why would he leave you alone?

You sat frozen like that, in full panicked omega mode, for what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes before you passed out from the smoke fumes. Only waking up when lean arms reached under you, picking you up and cradling you in their arms protectively before carrying you off to safety of home. You barely registered the pretty blue of the eyes staring down at you before you were out again, consumed in darkness.

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Blue flames fading to red licked against your skin, you not feeling anything but an uncomfortable heat from them as you pushed through the smoldering rubble searching, screaming.

“Touya! Where are you?” You choked on the smoke filling your lungs, but you didn’t dare stop searching. This was your fault. You should have gone in and calmed him down when you were told. It would be your fault if he overheated. Your fault if he got hurt, if he…

No. There was no way. You pushed past the burning in your lungs from the smoke. While the quirk created fire couldn’t hurt you, the smoke that resulted from it definitely could. But still, you kept searching, and you would keep searching until the fireman came and pulled you away, tears streaming down your face as you realized that you’re to be mate was no where to be found.

You would never forgive yourself for the death of Touya Todoroki.

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You sat up with a start, your head pounding as you gasped for air, your lungs still thinking they were full of smoke. You were surrounded by a scent you didn’t recognize. No, that’s not entirely true. You had smelled it before, but you couldn’t place where. It was a strange smell, like a cinnamon whiskey covered in smoke and tobacco. Rubbing your head you looked around at your surroundings, letting out a chirp and pulling your knees into your chest when you realized you were being watched.

The bedroom you were in didn’t look familiar, but the cerulean eyes staring back at you from a chair in the corner distracted you from looking in detail. The lights were out and the dark grey walls made you feel like you were in a teenagers goth bedroom, the only light coming from between the blinds on the window. Other than the bed, a dresser and the chair, there wasn’t very much in the room, if you excluded the overwhelmingly tall and lean black haired alpha that was splayed out comfortably across that chair, his eyes never leaving yours as you did a quick scan of the room, a smirk on his lips.

Even in the barely lit room, you didn’t miss the glint of silver staples and the marred purple-toned skin. You also couldn’t ignore the section of the ceiling that was scorched black above your head. Your eyes widened at the realization that the delicious and somewhat familiar scent was emitting from the alpha in front of you. The smell of cinnamon whiskey and tobacco engulfed in smoke was oddly a warm and welcome smell, but that didn’t change the fact that it was coming from one of the most notorious villains in Japan.

His eyes never left yours as you did a quick mental scan of yourself. You don’t think you were injured other than the throbbing in your right wrist. You also were still in the same clothes as you had been wearing at the market, and even though the alphas scent was strong, you could barely make out the peppermint smell of Shoto, comforting you a little at knowing the alpha hadn’t forcefully scented you. Yet.

The Alpha in question was growing tired of the silent game but he was just as stubborn to let you speak first, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips, lighting the end of it with his pinky at the same time. The small candle sized blue flame was enough to have your omega releasing a distress scent that you were surprised you were able to hold back until now.

The Alpha merely glanced back up at your form, his eyes raking your body slowly, enjoying the view that was in front of him.  The way his eyes hugged the curves of your body, slowing down in parts that particularly enticed him, had you shivering like a wet pup. Once his eyes reached yours again, you watched as his tounge slipped out, sporting a glinting metal ball, licking his lips slowly keeping eye contact with you.

The omega in the back of your head, the one that apparently had a death wish, made a quip about how hot that was but you immediately shut her up and reminded her who exactly you were dealing with.  And as if you needed to be reminded, the Alpha finally, taking his time, stood up, towering over you and taking up a majority of the small room. You watched as he flicked his smoked cigarette to the floor, stepping on it to put it out.  You couldn’t help but pull yourself into the corner of the bed, inching away from him and pulling into yourself, chirping wildly as you closed your eyes waiting to die. You weren’t sure how he was going to kill you, but you didn’t think it was going to be quick when he found out he couldn’t burn you.

Instead of the all too familiar heat from fire, you felt the bed dip as his rough hand slip underneath your jaw, forcing it up to look at him. Opening your eyes you were nose to nose with the bright blue eyes that took your breath away. From this close you could see all the little flecks in them that made up their piercing color. They looked rather familiar.. handsome even, but you refused the dwell on that and forced yourself to stop chirping  and releasing your distress scent as it clearly wasn’t helping the situation. You recognized that the villain probably had the room scent proofed and sound proof, or you were far enough away from civilization that no one would come to your rescue just based off of a distressed omega.

Covering your omega’s distress was difficult, but you had plenty of practice in the last several years, and you were all too familiar with the fact that some alpha’s got off on terrified omegas.

He still didn’t speak as he looked down at you, in fact he didn’t seemed rushed at all as his eyes searched yours for something you weren’t sure, flicking to different parts of your face like he was trying to memorize it. His grasp on your chin didn’t loosen either though, and his free hand snaked its way onto one of your ankles, gripping it lightly, to keep you in place.

You couldn’t handle the silence anymore.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The smirk on his face faltered and a look of almost confusion and something else briefly passed across his face, before it was covered back up with the signature smirk.

“Why would I do that little mouse?”

“Because you’re a villain..” You’re voice was scratchy. You were thirsty, but you weren’t about to tell the murderer in front of you that.

“Ah, so you do know who I am.”

You nodded, unconsciously licking your lips to relieve the ache that was settling there from the dryness. This only caused the villain in front of you to shift his gaze down to your lips, his own parting slightly, breathing in your scent.

“What’s my name?” His voice had dropped an octave and sounded raspier now, which you didn’t think was possible. The sound of it stirred something deep inside you that you begged to hush. The omega inside you was at war with itself. You reminded it once again that you were face to face, nose to nose, with a damned murderer. So to further remind yourself, you forced out his name between clenched teeth.

“Dabi.”

It almost seemed like the villain pouted for a second, like he was wanting another answer, but instead of providing you insight to his reaction, he pulled away from you,  turning back to his chair and sitting down. A wrinkle on his nose in disgust.

“Why do you smell like that half and half hero brat?” That caught you off guard. How did he know Shoto’s smell? How long was he watching you before he captured you?

“H-he’s my alpha..”

“You’re not bonded.” He pointed out lazily.

“We were waiting.”

“What would he possibly be waiting for? That’s just an invitation for someone else to come along and snatch you up5. By the smell of things, he doesn’t even take the time to scent you thoroughly. You sure he even wants you? Has he even noticed you’re gone?”

Your omega let out a soft chirp, hurt by Dabi’s words. You didn’t need to be reminded of anything that he was saying. In the back of your mind you knew it was all true. As much as Shoto tried for your benefit to make things work between you two, you wondered if he even cared that you were gone. Losing you meant he finally had the free will to court whoever he wanted. That Momo girl he was always talking about from school came immediately to your mind.

You tried to push these thoughts to the back of your mind and remind yourself that Shoto still cared about you and still would protect you no matter what. You tried to tell yourself that he was probably on his way right now to come save you and that once he did he would pull you into his arms and dispel any of the villains scent and replace it with his own until you couldn’t smell anything but peppermint.

You also ignored the lone thought pressing into your skull from all sides that maybe you didn’t want Shoto to come rescue you. Maybe you could get out of this without his help and maybe you could start a new life, one where you got to choose your own Alpha.

“Let me go.” Your voice barely a whisper, you couldn’t meet the eyes of the Alpha in front of you.

“No.” He snorted and rolled his eyes like what you said was the stupidest thing he ever heard, and maybe it was given that you just asked a psychopathic killer to just let you go on a whim. “Here’s the deal. You are staying here with me, because you are mine.”

You met his eyes when he said that. Confusion and a bit of fear creeping back into your face. Your heart rate picking up as you hugged your body to shield it from him.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bond you without permission, I’m not into rape.” His face showed that he meant that at least, the disgust at even the thought of a forced bond evident for a moment before he shook his head, his eyes caressing your body once again just like he had done several minutes earlier. “But mark my words, Omega, I’ll get permission.”

He licked his lips slowly, once again showing off the piercing in his tongue. His eyes focusing on your lips before finally meeting your own eyes again. You could smell the pheromones pumping off him, making the air around you smell absolutely enticing against better judgment.  

“You were out for almost 8 hours, we need to get you taken care of.” You swallowed, unsure of exactly what he meant by that. 8 hours? And Shoto wasn’t here yet? “Are you hungry?” His voice once again dropped down to that raspy level, and you couldn’t help but let out a small squeak like a mouse caught in a trap.

For some reason, unbeknownst to you, your omega shuddered and not in fear.

#bnha omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

[coexiising]

west coast - anakin skywalker

SUMMARY ◆ you and anakin have just never gotten along and there seemed to be no way to get you guys to cooperate. hate sex basically. 

WARNING(S) ◆ smut, degradation, some bad names, rough sex, but there’s consent because consent is sexy, cursing,  choking, unprotected sex, fingering, anakin skywalker is a tease and a bitch, witty banter,  i pretend to understand the force and probably make up my own rules, unedited

WORDS ◆ 3.6k

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THE EVENING LIGHT OF THE SUN SPILLED INTO THE LARGE HALL OF THE JEDI TEMPLE, BLANKETING EVERYTHING INSIDE WITH A SHEER COAT OF GOLDEN RAYS. coruscant was always so beautiful in the evenings, the way that the cars sped past each building with a low hum and the rush of traffic. it was a sound that you have grown to welcome these days, especially because it had been many years since you’ve lived here. the capital was beautiful, bustling with life and opportunities. 

your elbow was on the table, palm pressed against your cheek as you leaned against it lazily, poking at the food on your plate with a fork in your other hand. obi-wan was mouthing off in front of you, not that you were really listening anyways. you were too focused on trying to stay awake listening to this mission that he was assigned to bring both you and anakin on in a weeks time. though his speech was pretty much worthless since the other padawan was no where to be found. neither of you had seen him for a couple hours. 

oh well, you thought to yourself. it’s not like you missed him anyways. besides, he was probably with padme or getting in trouble somewhere like he was always doing. 

anakin and you . . . well, it was a complicated relationship. you had been assigned to work with master obi-wan after your master died on a freak accident, and ever since then, you were forced to work with anakin skywalker. you two didn’t get along, you never did. you were even surprised that obi-wan put up with it, but he wanted to train both of you. to say that you missed your life before you had to talk to anakin every day would be the understatement of the year, you longed for the days where you didn’t have to be in the same room as him and watch as everyone fawned over the chosen one. god, even your thoughts were going to make you throw up. it was better to bask in this non-anakin-ness the most you could before he came waltzing into the hall. 

unfortunately, right as you stopped thinking about him, anakin walked into the hall towards the food and would most likely make his way over and sit at your shared table with your master. you felt a groan go past your lips and looked down at your food, stabbing your starfruit and popping it into your mouth. 

a chuckle came from obi-wan in front of you. “you can at least act like you like him you know, might be easier to deal with it that way.” you shrugged, shaking your head and looking up to face your master. “I mean, saying that as your friend not your master.” 

“you’re one to talk, what did you call him yesterday? oh that’s right, insolent. if memory serves you said that to him pretty confidently,” you said. 

“well, yes, but I'm allowed to say those things,” obi-wan countered, popping up one of his expressive eyebrows as he looked at you. 

you stifled out a weak laugh, “I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of me liking him.” and that was the truth, there is no way that you weren’t going to do what almost everyone does here: allow him to get away with the things that he does. sometimes your master calls him out on things - but it was incredibly rare. 

anakin walked over in his usual fashion, which you deemed as strutting, but others didn’t see the humor in it. maybe it was just because every time he even was in the same room as you, you felt the need to insult something about him, you had to keep him grounded, right?

“good evening, y/n.”

“oh, it was,” you said to him, glancing in his direction and then instantly going back to your food. from the corner of your eye you could see as his face feigned hurt, then he immediately went to talking with obi-wan about the mission that your master had previously been briefing with you about. it was something about some trouble on the outer rim, separatists spotted trying to negotiate with the rulers of a planet that was vital for the republic to maintain peace with. a typical mission, one that you’ve been on one too many times. but maybe something exciting would happen, you never knew. 

dinner was, for the most part, uneventful. the only thing that happened was anakin threatening to throw his starfruit at you because you rolled your eyes at one of his comments, which didn’t end up happening because obi-wan gave him that look and a stern ‘anakin.’ 

for the rest of the night you retired to your rooms, telling the two you would meet them in the morning. 

you sat at the edge of your bed, kicking off your shoes and stretching your arms up. you set your comms down on the small nightstand you had and got dressed in something more comfortable for sleeping. the sun was fully down now, and the only thing that lit up your room was the tall lamp in the corner of your room and the distant lights of other buildings through your windows. 

as you slipped into bed under the covers, you allowed your mind to wander. first, to the mission, where you silently went over the details in your head to make sure you had them all memorized. you knew for certain that anakin didn’t, which could possibly give you a leg up in the future. and the more you pondered, the more they landed on anakin.

it was strange, thinking of him. typically you would be cringing at anything that included anything to do with anakin skywalker, but this time you allowed your mind to expand instead of bringing up the protective barriers like you always did. the calming effect of letting the force just make its way through every neuron and crevice of your mind was almost enough to lull you to sleep. 

that was until you heard a whisper, just the faintest, tiniest little sound that you were almost uncertain that you had even heard anything at all. 

your eyes stayed closed, again letting the force do what it wanted in your mind and waiting to see if it happened again. there was a presence there, just on the outer barriers of your mind. there was silence, complete and utter silence and you were about to call it a night when-

you’re thinking about me? 

you jolted up to sit, eyes snapping open and your head getting dizzy from the sudden shift in position. it was anakin’s voice, clear as day in your mind, that was what you were hearing. how could you be so stupid? it was like the force was trying to push that connection. and now that it was established, you knew that you would have to put up more barriers in your mind in order to keep him out. 

and the worst thing was that he was still there. you could feel it. you put your hands on either side of your head and closed your eyes, reaching him and saying, 

i was not. 

it was the weakest lie you had ever made in your life. 

you’re such a liar, anakin chided. you could practically feel his smirk. just admit it. 

you groaned to yourself, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your face from the focus. goodnight, anakin, you said to him and then immediately cut off the connection. 

now you were wide awake, you were sure that there was no way you could get any sleep after that. you weren’t even angry at yourself for doing that, but more embarrassed that your thoughts connected you to anakin - because you were thinking about him. you knew there was no way you were getting out of this tomorrow. 

you busied yourself at your desk with some books you had previously gotten from the archives, trying your best to basically bore yourself to the brink of sleep. and just as you thought it was beginning to work, you heard a knock on your door. glancing at the clock, you saw that it was a little bit past midnight. who the hell was at your door at this hour?

for a moment you stilled, thinking that perhaps it was a mistake and they would leave then you could finally try and sleep, but there was again another knock a few moments later. you finally stood up and made your way to the door, opening it and being greeted by none other than anakin skywalker. he was dressed in his comfort clothes and hair messy, like he had been awake for way too long. 

he didn’t give you any time to say anything, instead pushing his way past you into your rooms. your eyes widened and you took a peek outside into the halls to make sure that no one saw that. luckily, the halls were dead. closing your door and turning the lock, you faced him and stood there deadpanned, waiting for some kind of explanation. 

“well, don’t act all happy to see me,” he said sarcastically. 

you laughed. “im not. what are you doing here? do you understand what could happen if someone sees you and me in my bedroom alone?” there would be rumors spreading like wildfire, something that you definitely didn’t need to be confronted by the council about this. you hated to admit that you knew the exact reason he was here - because of your mini conversation through the force. but that still begged the question as to why he cared so much about it in the first place. 

anakin rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. you took a second to look him over, seeing that the black shirt he was wearing was sheer enough for you to know what he was hiding under it. you shuddered, coming to your senses again and frowning. “you were thinking about me, and i think i deserve an explanation,” anakin told you, shrugging his large shoulders and cocking an eyebrow up. “you were thinking so loud.” 

“I wasn’t trying to, i was trying to go to sleep.” you countered. 

“you think of me while trying to sleep?”

damn. wrong thing to say. and now he was giving you a look, one that you’ve never seen before from him. his eyes were almost dark, filled with lust. you felt like your fucking legs were going to give out at the look that he was giving you. it was enough to make your face heat up and clear your throat, not having anything else to say, there really wasn’t anything to defend yourself with. 

and it all happened so fast. one second you were both standing there, staring into each other’s eyes, and the next you both were walking towards each other and colliding your lips onto each others. the kiss was hot and searing, instantly making your head go dizzy at the feeling. his lips were soft, albeit a little harsh as his tongue forced its way into your mouth and prodded against your own. anakin’s hand came to grip your jaw, the other on the small of your back. 

you attempted to grab onto him, get your hands on him as much as his were on you, but he didn’t let you, using the hand on your back to pull you closer to your bed. you were still kissing, lips starting to swell with the agressiveness of the kiss. 

you still hated him, you had to keep telling yourself that, even though just by kissing he was making you feel so good. no attachments were to be made, this was purely just acting on normal human instincts, right? 

soon enough the backs of your legs were hitting the edge of your bed, anakin pushed you down onto the bed like it was nothing and you were silly putty molding in his hands. he fell on top of you, instead of kissing you on the lips, he went for your neck, one of his hands came and grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it down, exposing your neck for him. 

and he made sure that you would have to somehow cover all the marks he was making, because his teeth seemed to graze over every inch of your skin and lightly nip anywhere he wanted. and you felt dirty because you let him. you would let him do whatever he wanted to do to you. 

anakin pulled away from you for a moment to pull his shirt off, discarding it to the floor and helping you to do the same with your shirt. you took a moment to look him over, seeing that his body was practically sculpted and personally handcrafted by the maker themselves, basically knocking the breath out of you. he noticed and you didn’t even care, instead of cringing at his smirk, you found it incredibly hot. 

your hands came to his torso, wrapping your legs around his waist as his mouth began kissing along your chest. you pressed your hips up against him, trying to get friction against your already wet core. sadly, it wasn’t enough and you were left with whatever he decided to give you. 

“anakin, please,” you whispered out towards him, looking down to watch him slip one of your nipples into his mouth, your mouth hung wide open. he came off of it with a ‘pop’ and tilted his head, waiting for you to finish whatever you were going to say. 

“please what?” anakin asked, going back to kissing your chest until he landed on your stomach and started painting masterpieces on your skin. 

you made the tinest sound, feeling sparks send right down below. “just touch me already,” you stated, putting your hands in his hair and giving the curles a good tug. he groaned against him, the vibrations going through your entire body. anakin came up face to face with you, pressing yet another kiss against your lips and pushing down your pants and underwear to the ground. you were now all exposed to him, while he still wore half of his outfit. you pouted at the unfairness but you knew it would get you nowhere now. 

he held his hand out in front of you and for a moment you looked at him confused. he sensed this and said blankly, “spit.” you did what he asked and spit into his hand, watching as he took that same hand and touch your clit, feeling the wetness of your spit and your own mixing together. your mouth hung open as he rubbed his fingers around, experimentally pushing the tip of his finger into you then immediately pulled it out. 

you felt yourself almost whine, needing him to give you more or you felt like you would simply die on the spot. right as you were about to say something, anakin’s other hand came and grasped onto your neck, his fingers digging into your skin and putting pressure on your throat. 

holy fuck. 

typically, you would be angry with how much control anakin skywalker had over you, but now you were just giving into it, liking that he was being rough with you. it was like a form of argument without the words and you were becoming addicted to it. he was able to make you feel so good and you were completely in his power. 

finally, as if he was putting some pity on you, one finger slipped into you, curling up and hitting a spot inside you that made you moan loudly. the hand choking you became stronger against your neck, his mouth coming to your ear and whispering, “be quiet, you don’t want anyone to hear us and have this be over too soon, do you?” he was looking for an answer. 

you shook your head, understanding that this would not be the best time to get caught by anyone else. you tried your best to keep yourself quiet as one finger pumped in you, the thumb of that same hand pressing against your clit and making your toes curl in pleasure. you could feel how hard he was against you and that made the fire in your stomach ablaze, nearing towards that edge desperately wanting some kind of release. 

as soon as you felt yourself getting higher to that point, his hand came off your throat and his hand stopped moving, your eyes opened up and looked at him, who was busy pulling down his pants and grabbing his cock with his hand. 

it didn’t take long for him to position himself at your enterance, his tip teasing you by rubbing it up and down against your slit. “is this what you want?” anakin asked you, his other hand tracing down your body and coming to grip the side of your hip. 

you nodded your head fervently. “yes, anakin, please just fuck me already,” you said to him. 

and that was all he needed before he was ramming himself into you, giving you no time to adjust, which was expected. you took the pain that came with his harsh motions, both of his hands gripping your hips with such force that you were sure that you were going to have bruises there in the morning in the shape of his hands. 

anakin pounded into you, your voice was already hoarse from his choking and you made as quiet sounds as you could. all that anger you had for each other had bubbled up onto the surface and there was only the desire left, the sickly sweet feeling that you had only dreamed about with anakin in your deepest fantasies. you could never get tired of this, perhaps you should’ve initiated this sooner, or pushed his buttons so he would take it out on you this way. 

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” anakin said in that deep, gravelly voice that basically sent you into orbit the second that it came past your lips. you were so far gone, head empty of any incoherent thought other than anakin skywalker. and he continued to move into you shamelessly, neither of you caring about anything in the world except this feeling both of you were chasing. 

you were close, you could practically feel the tidal wave starting to form inside your stomach. his pace would not let up, practically tearing into you with all the energy and stamina that he had from years of training. and anakin looked so good like this, his mouth hung open and sweat forming on that tanned brow of his. his muscles working overtime and flexing with every single movement he made. and his eyes, which were so blue like the oceans of naboo, were staring right into your own, almost like they were telling you to give everything to him. 

you were so worked up, that it only took his hand to come down and rub down against your clit, the pressure enough to push you over the edge. it was like a firework went off inside and the scream you wanted to make died in your throat, wishing that you could be as loud as you wanted. your back arched up and your hips faltered against his own, cumming around him and squeezing, earning a moan from his lips as well. you looked so good coming undone that anakin basically was just sent into fucking orbit with no trace of coming back down. 

the second you regained your composure and came down from your own orgasm, you watched as anakin hit his own, hips shifting and releasing right inside of him. you felt him fill you up to the brim, anakin falling down with his chest pressed against your own. the room smelled of sex and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

the only thing was the sounds of your pants throughout the room, and soon enough anakin was pulling out of you. you frowned at the sudden loss of not being filled up anymore by him. just a second ago you felt like you were on fucking cloud nine and now you were crashing right down to reality at what you had done, and whom you had just done it with. 

you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as anakin pulled his pants back up and started gathering the rest of his clothes in his hand. he was still shirtless, about to go towards the door when you said, “are you seriously going out there half naked?” 

“no one is up this late, trust me,” he said back. 

you bit the inside of your cheek. “well I don’t know about that after all the noises coming from here.” 

“that wasn’t me making all the moans,” anakin says in such a casual way you stare daggers back at him. he stifles out a laugh and then turns, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. you can hear his footsteps recede from the door and you are left here alone, thinking about what the hell you had just done. 

once you regained your composure and felt like you could walk, you stood up on your wobbly feet and made your way to your small mirror. the second you got there, you gasped at your appearance in the mirror. hair all messed up, marks all along your neck along with bruises from his hands, and the bruises on your hips. and to top it all off, you could feel what he left in you trickling down your thigh. 

that may have just been the best sex of your life. but you still hated anakin skywalker . . . 

. . . right?

#y'all ever heard the tragedy of darth- kidding #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #obi-wan kenobi #anakin smut #star wars smut #star wars the clone wars #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith

[bored-storyteller]

Alternative version of this one shot (or part of it)

Warning: mention of blood and violence

67- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

The smell of your blood was enough. This was enough, and the world around Uta had darkened and there was for him that dangerous red trail that led him to you. And even if his face seems calm and focused, the terror of never seeing you again grips him.

Why are you there in the first place? You don't have to be there, he warned you. He always warns you, to keep you safe - so you don't see.

It's hard for him to hold back when his mental state is in that situation. When he needs blood, fun and killing, and as much as he wants it, not even your presence can satisfy that need.

Indeed, you are a stimulus. Your eyes that silently scrutinize him from your hiding place are a charge for him to do better. To do more.

He never wanted to show you the monster. No, it's not just about something metaphorical and moral like the monstrosity of ghouls. His monstrous body, he never wanted to show it to you.

Yet now it's there massive and awful on his victim, and your attacker. And it’s precisely because you are there.

Uta from the fourth ward is not a ghoul that the others don't take seriously, it wouldn't need him to use his strength with a being as lowly as that, but he needs it.

He can still smell you. He knows exactly where you are and what you feel, he smells your fear, and he likes it.

Are you afraid of him? Are you afraid of what you see even though he is saving you?

"Where do you run chick."

Uta's laughter is chilling, transcendent, as the ghoul with your blood-stained hands whizzes by his side.

Your crouched form shrinks against your makeshift barrier to clear the way for the substitute victim before he overwhelms you.

You are so confused and afraid that what happens just slips before your eyes without really making sense. And when something rushes forward with a violent rush to capture the unfortunate ghoul, you have neither the ability nor the readiness to escape it.

The first thing you perceive is the heat that surrounds you and the light that dims.

Someone giggles and someone shouts.

You forget to breathe.

"Oops ..."

It's a voice you know all too well, it's a voice you hear every day, filling your life like color fills a blank canvas. Yet now you would swear you never heard it.

“How did you end up here, my beloved? Did your delicious smell make me catch you too? "

Beloved is not a word that flows often between you two, it is suspended in your gestures and in your looks, but it is truly exceptional that your lips pronounce it. Maybe that's why it now sounds so unreal from those lips you should have known for a long time.

Those lips that move threateningly beneath you and your tormentor, in the depths of that flesh so hot and so inhuman that surrounds you.

"Tell me, my love, what pains in hell do you want this toy to undergo?"

That word continues to resonate in those muscles along with the angry moans of the captured ghoul.

Love, love, love. Such a rare word, so unconventional. Yet he seems to like to say it as he prepares to kill.

It clashes like a broken bell, screeches against hearing like teeth in terror. But no, you can't say he's not being sincere.

Those red tentacles squeeze in on you, and you don't know if it's sadism or some other dark emotion he's feeling about holding you there.

You do not answer his smallest question and rather you turn around, clinging desperately to that merciless cocoon, looking for a way out.

Maybe it's still sadism, those noises you hear so visceral and close to you, while an unequal fight is taking place a few inches from your body. If not even the ghoul can escape the monster, how can you fragile human?

You don't want to see what's happening, what he's doing. You can't even imagine how the hell he can do to cause those screams of terror and that slaughterhouse noise of flesh and blood. The sound is already ignoble enough to make you squeeze against the viscous envelope, closing your eyes and pressing against those walls that you don't even know which area of his body they belong to.

Even when the disturbing silence falls on you, you don't move. The awareness of being alone there strangely makes things even more difficult.

"Don't you want to watch?" Uta's voice is still distorted by an unhealthy amusement "So weak ... there was no need to even fight him ..."

Your fingers cling to the tentacles as if they could protect you.

"Uta ..." his name sounds uncertain in that too narrow cave.

"Hm?" A light laugh, this time addressed only to you "are you afraid?"

He knows you're scared, terrified. He feels it in his lungs, the smell of your anguish mixes with that of your blood, of that wound you seem to have forgotten about.

And he keeps you there, because he knows that if he were to let you go, you would run away. The smell you have on you is that of the victims when they try in vain to escape the predator.

For a moment, a fleeting insane moment, he really thinks that the only solution is to devour you, that this is the only way to keep you there with him.

But that moment falls into his own horror when your question caresses him: "Can you come back please?"

Come back.

His heart stops for a moment.

Come back.

That scent of prey becomes your perfume again, which invades him like a raging river.

"But I ... I've always been here."

Now his voice is no longer scary, and although you still do not dare to look beyond your eyelids, you can finally feel the safety of that delicate and gentle tone.

"Uta?" You call him again, like you want to make sure it's him for real.

And he wonders what the hell he's doing. Because you are there, in the first place, in his trap.

Finally his shell opens, freeing you in the evening light, and all that grabs you are his hands, to bring you back to earth safely.

When you open your eyes, nothing is left of that cluster of tentacles and arms; all that is in front of you is that dear face that you have come to know so well. It's a blood mask that covers his chin to his nose, but at least you can see his eyes.

"It's me ..." the sweet note of his voice echoes in the calm after the storm "It's just me."

It's just him. No hero ready to save you, only Uta in his natural madness.

His instinct to grab you before you run away is contradicted by your sudden gesture pushing you against him.

"Uta!" Your arms surround his neck in a desperate attempt to hold him back as your head snuggles against his neck as if that were your only refuge.

"You never came back ... I came looking for you."

Your words are so docile and sincere that Uta almost doubts he has heard them.

He asked you, he asked you what you would do if he never came back. He hadn't believed you had taken his words to heart so much.

The imaginary of you, finally free human without him, dissolves in his mind with every particle of you that your body transmits to him.

It seems that nothing is wrong with you in any of this; neither the danger you ran, nor the wound on your shoulder, nor his inhuman violence. You seem to completely ignore the blood that covers him, which now dirties you too, and you are not bothered by the gaunt remains that surround you. You were looking for him. You were afraid that he would never come back to you, and you looked for him, as you said.

You did not remain silent and wait, you did not hope for a while to get rid of him, nor did you plan to remain without him. Instead those words of his had remained inside you to the point of putting you in danger.

"Forgive me." His voice is little more than a whisper as his palm gently rests on your head in a protective gesture "Does it hurt a lot?"

You shake your head in dissent as he leans over your wound to lick the blood away. Not a threatening gesture, but a cure, a desire to perceive you as close to him as possible.

You who sought him, you who did not run away, you who remain so calm in his hands.

"You won't go away, will you?"

Your question is innocent as you curl up in him, likewise seeking your presence.

His nose cuddles against your temple, continuing to perceive you with all possible senses.

"Not as long as you want me."

#tokyo ghoul #uta tokyo ghoul #uta x reader #uta x human reader #uta tg #tokyo ghoul uta #gore mention #violence #tokyo ghoul oneshot #one shot #angst

[kookieswan]

Amaranth Part V - Buttercup

Apprentice!Jungkook x Royal!Reader (f)

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff-ish, Humor, a tad bit of Angst. Warning for mention of attempted physical harm against MC.

Summary: Awaiting much needed answers, the Dark Mage asks you about love and you have nothing to say in return.

Note: Yes this took me forever to get out. I rewrote it multiple times. I am sorry lol

Find the Amaranth Masterlist here!

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

“Since we’re almost home, I’d just like to thank everyone for staying quiet and not disturbing the peace.” The peace being Namjoon. His voice rings out through the car, which had, in fact, been quiet till he said anything. There’s a chorus of different replies, mostly ones of defiance. Should have just kept his mouth quiet, the lovable dolt.

Your group had decided to leave as soon as possible now that you collected Yoongi, mostly because you being out of the capitol for so long was a huge risk. A risk you wish you could take more often really, but you stayed silent as Namjoon quietly spoke with your guardians. It’s like your little vacation was over just as quickly as it started. Sigh.

“Yeah, it’s not like you threatened to feed us to a ravenous Jin when we get home or anything Joonie.” Namjoon glares very pointedly back to where you and Jungkook sit, eyes narrowed into thin slits. You smile and wave back kindly as Jungkook makes a silly face into the mirror, nose scrunched cutely like a bunny. You’ll never admit how much fun you have teasing the poor man, and it doesn’t help that Kookie always eggs you on.

“Soooo… what’s your favorite color Yoongi?” Jungkook shifts underneath you, arms wrapped lightly around your waist. You sit idly on his lap as Namjoon continues to drive down the road, carrying the whole group back to the capital in a cramped little car. A sigh leaves your advisors lips, disappointed, but not surprised. He’s been grumpy all day, not happy in the least about having to drive. You had offered, but almost everyone had sad no immediately. Losers.

“I cannot see color.” Yoongi sits in the front seat next to Namjoon, facing forward, back straight as he stares into nothing, or maybe everything. You’re surprised he’s even acknowledging Kookie at this point, he’s made his dissatisfaction clear (although you think he secretly likes him. A trill rings through the car and you glance to the left to see Jimin running his hand through Tae’s mused hair affectionately.

The taller of your guardians has got a protective barrier set over the car, mostly to keep you protected but also to prevent being tracked. It’s probably taking a lot out of him, so Jimin’s comfort is likely a nice distraction. A secret smile comes to your face, happy to see them acting natural even in front of a stranger. If Yoongi minds, he doesn’t say anything.

“Soooo… What can you see? Just shapes or outlines…? I mean, you can see some things, right? You walk around easily…” Jungkook leans in closer, pushing you both forward in the cars small space. Ever the curious one, you hope it doesn’t bite him in the ass one day. Jimin bristles next to where you sit, hand coming down to slap Jungkook on his hip lightly. His wings flutter from where they’re trapped behind him, giving away his annoyance. Jimin’s promptly ignored as Yoong glances over his shoulder slightly.

“I can see you, sadly.” A tiny giggle leaves you then as the Mage turns back around, unable to hold it back at the smugness of the answer. Jungkook scoffs lightly before poking your sides, making you laugh even harder. He nuzzles the back of you neck hastily with his cute nose to tickle you more before sitting back, arms wrapping tighter around your waist. You dare say he makes a better seatbelt than the real thing with how strong his arms are.

“I am curious, how do you see if your eyes don’t work like normal?” Yoongi likes you for whatever reason, so you decide to test the waters and see if he’ll actually answer you. He doesn’t have much of a reason not to, but maybe it’s a sore subject. He doesn’t hesitate to answer though, deep voice floating across the car.

“I can ‘see’ with my elemental energy. I push it out or pull it in, but it works independently like a normal set of eyes would. I used to have to try, but it’s second nature now and happens naturally.” You want to ask how it happened, how he lost his sight, but refrain out of politeness. Perhaps another time. Glancing out the window, you almost get lost in the scenery before his raspy voice interrupts you again.

“May I ask you a question, Highness?” The man turns around in his seat slowly , face parallel to yours almost. It’s now that you can see the scaring around his eyes properly, just how pale he is as veins run across his paper-like skin. You tell him to go for it almost immediately, curious to know what he’d like to know. He’s been so quiet till this point after all…

“I don’t get out often, that much is obvious, I’m sure. From what I’ve head though, there have been whispering of a marriage in your future. Are any of them true?” A very undignified snort leaves you then, answering his question without any words. Marriage… something you’ve been avoiding for a good few years now. Jungkook flexes his hands in your waist, cheek resting against your shoulder. He knows how you feel, they all do. The rest of your entourage remains quiet though.

“No. There’ll be no wedding in the foreseeable future… or ever preferably. I’d like to think I can take over things by myself just fine when the time comes.” You’ll never get to pursue love how you want to, so you’ll never pursue it at all. Better to avoid all the shit now than fall down a deep hole you can’t crawl out of. Plus, if anyone thinks you need a man by your side to function, they’re dead wrong.

Your uncle had already tried on a few different occasions to get you interested in someone. He had brought over princes from other lands, all of them snooty men with zero personality. One by one, they had all tried to court you…

And failed miserably.

Jungkook and Namjoon were always there to pick you up when things went badly, your guardians not far behind. Things always went badly because you never accepted the offered courtship which would lead to a less than happy prince. One had even tried to strike you for your ‘insolence’. Jungkook had seen. The prince was lucky he didn’t die.

You can’t recall ever seeing Kookie that mad, it’s almost like he was a different person. His energy flaring dangerously, fire rising from his hands so quickly like second nature… There hasn’t been a single suitor to visit you since, likely for the betterment of their health. Good riddance to them all.

It’s always been a ruse, true love would never exist in your area of royalty. Even if it did, it would never last. Your father and mother had been in love, truly smitten with each other, but look how that turned out for them. Your uncle had married as well, but it was for naught as his wife died of sickness soon after. Now he’s a cranky old man that doesn’t make the time of day for anyone.

“I see. I didn’t think any of the whispering had merit, not truly. You seem too strong willed, too much like your father, to accept a husband or wife blindly.” Jungkook laughs quietly at the double meaning of his words. It’s true though, you’d rather disappear than marry some random idiot to please the masses. If you uncle was loud about you marrying, then the general public was like an echo chamber of screams. Humming a bit, you decided to shoot back the question, and save the comment about your father for later.

“What about you? Have you ever married? Had a significant other?” Jimin and Taehyung both peer toward the front of the car curiously as the Mage shifts in his seat. Tae sneezes suddenly before Jimin coos, pinching his cheek cutely before offering him a tissue. Where the hell had he got s tissue? Yoongi remains silent for a bit, and you shift uncertainly on your human seat. Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked, but it only seems fair.

“I had a lover… once. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen him but I think we’ll meet again sometime soon.” Well that’s cryptic. You know that Yoongi’s on the older side, so his list of lovers could be long as hell and yet, only one. It’s not like he’s a bad looking guy, though he is kind of a recluse. Huh.

Seeing the capital on the horizon, you decided to stay quiet for the rest of the way there. The talk of marriage hangs overhead, creating a bit of a sour cloud. You say you won’t marry, you don’t want to marry… but do you really have the choice…?

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

“Yes, well, we’re finally home and I’m free of all of you for the next 24 hours so goodbye.” Namjoon tries his best to wander off as soon as he’s out of the car, any responsibility for you completely forgotten, but Jungkook won’t have it. He latches on to the taller man easily, whining about a goodbye hug at the very least as Namjoon pleads for a quick death. Deserved after trying to leave you all by yourself.

“Come on Namjoon, just give me a lil’ goodbye kiss!” There’s an unprecedented amount of cackling occurring as Jimin and Tae dance past you, hand in hand as the make their way up the stars to the entrance of the building. There’s actually sparkles surrounding the two of them, likely Jimin’s doing. You know he’s sad to be away from nature, but he has a connection to the city as well that he tied to well. Of course, Tae will follow him anywhere and everywhere he pleases.

You follow silently, Yoongi nearly glued to your side as your advisor and best friend (fiend) continue to bicker. You don’t mind, there’s a lot to take in and he probably hasn’t been here for a while. It’s pretty at least, with huge willowy trees and flowers blooming on either side, sprites floating across the air lazily. It’s too bad it’s not dark yet, it’s so much prettier then against the stone of the building.

You’re not sure why Yoongi’s here still, but maybe you can give him a tour at some point, show him around after he’s finished his business. He’s been here before, yes, but things have changed in the last hundred years or so. The garden, for example, is run completely by you now, and judging by the one that he had at his own home, he may like to see it.

“Hello!” Glancing up the stairs of the entranceway, you’re greeted by none other than Seokjin waving you down. You’re surprised he’s even awake midday, but then again, it’s not surprising that he’s here to meet you. Always wanting the latest gossip, this one. He had looked almost perturbed when you had mentioned that you were going to visit the Dark Mage.

Jin comes tumbling down the stairs quickly, a wiz in the air, and you can see now that he’s dyed his hair yet again. Pink this time, a far cry from the dark brown it had been before. Charming, but then again, he always is.

“Hey, your uncle told me to meet with you after you get back! How was you guy’s tr- Yoongi!?” Jins crimson eyes widen almost comically as he takes in the man beside you. A twisted look of satisfaction falls over the dark mages face as you glance at him, his mouth curled into a smirk. He takes a few steps forward, slowly and calculated, and peers into Seokjins soul as if it’s a snack. Yoongi’s energy ripples forth like a tidal wave, goosebumps washing over your body unwillingly. Well then.

“Hello, lover.”

#amaranth #amaranth part v #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook royal au #Jungkook #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts fluff #bts royal au #bts angst #bts

[sweeethinny]

Second son

Summary: ‘You ran away from home?’

‘When I was about sixteen,’ said Sirius. ‘I’d had enough.’

‘Where did you go?’ said Harry, staring at him.

‘Your dad’s place,’ said Sirius. ‘Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son.’

or

Sirius runs away from home, and we see it through Euphemia Potter's eyes.

kind of inspired by @questions-forthe-marauders perfect art! HERE

AO3

-------

December 23, 1976 - 5:25PM

Euphemia did her best not to cry when Minerva's letter arrived at her house.

‘’Mia,

I know what I'm going to ask of you is totally irrational and you have every right to ignore my request and yell at me, but I don't see any other way out.

I've been noticing for a few weeks that Sirius has been acting weird and seems to be distant from everyone. A few days ago I noticed a bruise on the corner of his mouth, but I can't tell if it was a fight with his brother or someone else, you know how boys are at that age.

Anyway, I've noticed that it's been a few months since his detention has been signed by his parents anymore, and I've tried contacting them but Dumbledore keeps saying there's nothing to worry about - you know him, he's terrible at times.

I think there's something wrong with him, and I know Sirius comes to your house during the holidays because I always hear James talking about it, so I came through this letter asking that if you notice anything strange, please tell me. Or talk to Sirius to see if you can find anything.

I'm very worried.

Love, and I'm sorry to bother you with this,

Minerva.''

It hurt her heart more than she thought it would, noticing that the signs Minnie had said were all right there under her nose. James hadn't said anything about Sirius coming for Christmas, and he'd been there for two years now, even though she felt a little bad that he wasn't with his parents on that date. And James looked weird too; he was angrier than usual, and reluctant to talk to them and getting locked in his room.

When they were at the station, Mia noticed that Sirius had got off the train alone and looked guilty, not even looking in their direction as he walked over to where his parents were - who didn't look at all happy with his presence there.

He had already told Monty a few times that his parents didn't like him going to Gryffindor, and James had once told her that Sirius didn't get along with Regulus. But Euphemia always thought it was silly things that teenagers took too seriously, but now, she felt she should have given more importance to the signs.

“Sirius isn't coming?” she asked when she saw James coming down the stairs, an unusually sulky look.

"I don't know," was all he said, walking into the kitchen and leaving her alone in the living room. Her heart clenched, a bad feeling burning in her chest.

"Didn't he tell you anything?" James always liked to talk about everything with Euphemia, Monty said he was a big mama's boy, but she didn't mind at all. As long as he was going to look for her to get her opinion, Euphemia would be only too happy to help him.

"He just said he didn't know if he was coming." James walked out of the kitchen, a glass of milk and a cookie jar under his arm, but when he threatened to go back up to the bedroom, she stopped him.

"Come here." James didn't like being confronted, he'd inherited it from her, and he used to frown when someone demanded answers from him. But Euphemia had no choice but to do that, so he was going to need to spit it out. ‘’Is something going on? Did you guys fight?” she asked, folding the letter and placing it on the coffee table with Minnie's name down, not wanting James to know she already knew. This made it difficult for him to speak.

"No." He sat up, sullen as he always was when she did that. James didn't meet her eyes however, and that was a red light for her. He was one of those people who didn't mind looking anyone in the eye unless he was lying.

‘’You know you can talk to me, don't you? I care about you two.”

"We don't…" He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the sofa cushions, the glass of milk and cookies forgotten on the coffee table. ''He was being an idiot the last few days, I don't know what got into him, but I was ignoring it because I don't know, he gets like that sometimes when he and Regulus fight, but then the christmas thing came up and I said if he continued in that mood he wouldn't be welcome here,'' James denied, pulling his hair angrily. ''I thought he'd know I was joking, of course he's welcome here, but then he got mad and told me he wasn't coming to bother me this year, and I yelled that it would be great so… I got mad, I wasn't thinking… so he got out of our wagon and went to Merlin knows where. I only saw him when we got off the train, and he was already going with his parents.'’

‘’Oh, son…’’

''I know I shouldn't have said that, but he was being an idiot, and now... I hope he doesn't hate me.'' Euphemia wanted to go to that hideous Black house to drag Sirius under her wing, force him and James to talk and make up, and bring him in with them. But Monty had already told her that this was illegal.

"He doesn't hate you, son." She opened her arms for James to hug her, stroking his hair and thinking about what she could do with the situation. "Did you say he and Regulus had a fight?"

"They...um," Of course James was too faithful to tell her about that. Too noble to betray his best friend. ‘’Kind of a fight.’’

“Does Sirius often fight with him a lot?” She remembered when they had once met Walburga and Orion at an event, and only Regulus was with them.

"Where's Sirius?" she had asked, because it didn't make sense to take just one child. And Sirius was what, twelve or thirteen at the time?

"He preferred to stay with my sister," Walburga said, smiling bitterly at Euphemia as if silently telling her not to meddle where she wasn't called.

She swallowed, thinking maybe she was seeing trouble where it didn't exist. Maybe he really wanted to stay with his aunt, she couldn't prove otherwise.

‘’Send him a letter later inviting him to our Christmas, okay? If you want,” she said, looking once more at Minnie's letter on the table.

"Fine."

December 24, 1976 - 10:54PM

It was snowing like never before outside, probably the coldest night this year so far, and the house was silent when she woke up to noises outside.

Monty jumped out of bed, wand in hand, just as she had, heart pounding in her chest and a motherly fear of protecting James at all costs from whatever was out there.

Ever since they declared support for muggleborns and as she and Fleamont began to increasingly advocate for minorities and help organizations of students who couldn't afford to buy supplies and clothing for the Hogwarts school years, they were marked as a target for the other traditional families, carrying a huge red flag where ''traitors'' was written in bold letters.

Euphemia couldn't care less about that, she was more than happy to be considered a traitor if it meant she was doing good.

“What was that?” James muttered, haunted brown eyes staring like he was going to war.

Her son didn't go to war, though, not when he couldn't even drink yet.

‘’Stay in the room, and get the portkey. Anything, use it!” She instructed him, but James seemed too stubborn to accept that. "James, enter your room now, and stay there."

“Three is better than two.” He continued to follow them, Monty further along and having already made a protective barrier between him and her and James.

‘’Not when one of them is fifteen. Now come in and stay there, me and your dad let's see what's going on.'

''Mom-''

"Don't make me need to use magic to get you to do what I want." She said authoritatively, and that caused James to fall back a few steps, looking at her startled. Euphemia mentally thanked him for that and walked downstairs, thinking that later she would apologize for talking to him like that, but that's because she wasn't risking her boy in that situation.

Monty raised his wand and opened the door, ready to attack whoever was there on the other side, but before he could, Sirius raised his arms and closed his eyes as if he too was waiting to be attacked. ‘’Sirius?!’’

‘’I'm sorry, I-’’

''What did we do on our last trip?'' Fleamont asked, and as much as Euphemia thought it was unnecessary - please just bring the boy inside he'll freeze! - she knew they were in the middle of a war.

''You tried to learn to surf with me and James, but you nearly broke your ankle when you fell.'' Sirius kept his arms raised, and she noticed that his lips were purple from the cold, and that jacket didn't seem to warm him. She didn't even wait for Monty to lower his wand and went over to him, pulling Sirius into their house and hugging him tightly, wanting more than anything to take away whatever inner pain seemed to haunt him.

He looked too terrified for a sixteen-year-old boy.

"What happened, Pads?" James ran up to them, looking worried about him too. ‘’You didn't even answer my letter and-’’

''I...I ran away from home.'' He shrugged and avoided looking her or Monty in the eye, Euphemia realized he had a backpack on his back. Her heart ached so much that she couldn't stop the tears. She pulled Sirius even tighter against her. "Mia, if I can't stay here, it's okay, it's just that I came walking-"

‘’Did you walk all the way here?! It's almost an hour and a half of walking, boy!” Monty yelled. "Someone could have tried something against you."

''It was okay, I,'' Sirius looked at James, and she knew he wasn't telling her all the details and he'd probably done something against the law to not die in the snow, but she didn't care about that now. "It was the first place I thought of coming."

‘’Of course, dear, of course. James, make him a hot bath, and Monty heat up dinner… are you hungry, Sirius?” He nodded, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ''Here, come sit in front of the fireplace… And of course you can stay here, please, I don't even want to think that you thought I wouldn't accept you.'' She sighed, walking with him to the sofa and taking off the wet jacket he wore, waving her wand so that the nearly extinguished fire began to crackle again, warming the room. "You can live with us Sirius, don't worry, you don't have to go back to those horrible people anymore." His gray eyes blinked with tears, and it was probably the first time she'd seen Sirius cry. ‘’Don't worry honey, you're fine now…’’

----

‘’Minnie,

I'm so glad you warned me about this, and I understand your concern.

Sirius ran away from home last night, he didn't want to tell us what happened and I think at some point I'll know, but the boy looks terrified now.

He's not okay, but he's going to be. And I've already sent a letter to Dumbledore telling him that now anything that happens to him is to call us.

I don't think Walburga or Orion will complain, they let their son run away in the middle of a blizzard and so far they haven't looked for him. But it's better this way, Monty would probably kill them if they showed up at our door.

You know that we always wanted to have one more child anyway.

With love,

Euphemia.’’

#james potter #marauders headcanon #marauders era #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #sirius black #my fic #the marauders era

[imkylotrash]

Meet Me In The Hallway (3)

Pairing: Sky x reader

Summary: Stella is losing patience and when you follow Sky into the forest to find the Burned One, she lets part of your secret slip as a warning. 

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody

Series Masterlist

“I thought I saw you leave Sky’s room and then I thought… That can’t be true. Y/N wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that when they know what I know.”

You really hate Stella. Slowly, you turn around to face her preparing yourself for the venomous smile she no doubt has plastered on her face. Barely anytime has gone by but you’re already getting very tired of having her threaten you.

“Silva is hurt. He needed someone to comfort him. That’s all.” You’re dog-tired wishing for a peaceful sleep but Stella has other plans.

“If Sky needs comforting, I will make sure he gets it. Not you.” It baffles you how she claims to care for him when all she does it look after her own needs. Frankly, you don’t care who gets to comfort him as long as he’s not alone. You’d give up just about anything to make sure he’s happy but Stella seems to think it’s him who should give up everything for her. 

“Are you really that selfish you’ll put your own happiness above his?” you dare ask tired of her games. 

“I’m going to give you one last chance to fix this,” she starts completely ignoring your question. 

“I have to stay away from him. I get it,” you interrupt her about to turn around and walk away when she stops you. 

“I want you to convince him to go on a date with me. He’s been too occupied sulking over you to show any interest in me. I want you to make him realise that I’m the obvious choice.” She must’ve lost her mind. For a whole minute you simply just stare at her taking her words in. She wants you to convince Sky to fall in love with her. In the middle of everything going on with Silva. Is she completely mental? 

“Did you hear me or do I need to repeat myself?” In an attempt to act unbothered, she checks her nails but you see right through her. All the insecurities and abandonment issues shine bright in the dark and you briefly pity her. Everyone has heard the rumours of her mother and the way she’s been treated, but you came from a horrible life too and you didn’t turn into a bitch. 

“I heard you.” 

“Great. You can tell him I’ll be waiting in my room.” She walks past you not even bothering to ask how Silva is doing. Despite your need for some proper sleep, you decide to head down to the greenhouse. Mr. Harvey is adding a fresh coat of the herb mix to Silva’s wounds. 

“Sky is sleeping,” you quickly say to easy Silva’s mind. He sits back down revealing the pain he’s in. 

“Can I help with anything?” you ask needing something to occupy your mind from what Stella asked of you. How can you focus on that when Silva could be dying? 

“Maybe you could cool me down again? It really helped me rest.” You oblige placing your hand on his forehead and channeling just the slightest magic into the palm of your hand. It’s an instant effect when the ice hits him. Slowly his skin returns to a normal shade rather than the hot red it was mere minutes ago. 

“Thank you,” he whispers lying down on the table again. It must be really bad if he’s so willing to show weakness. In the time you’ve known Silva, he’s never shown weakness about anything. You know it would be a different story if Sky were here though. He’d never want Sky to know just how much pain he’s in and you can’t blame him. It would crush Sky. 

“No problem. I can come back in a few hours to do it again?” You look to Mr. Harvey for signs whether that’s a good idea or not. He gives you a quick nod before continuing his work. You mean to head to your room but you spot a blonde boy who’s sneaking out the backdoor. 

“Are you kidding me?” With a sigh, you follow him outside realising that he’s heading straight for the forest. 

“Sky, where are you going?” you ask and the sound of your voice stops him dead in his tracks. 

“I’m going to find the Burned One that got Saul. I can’t just sit around and do nothing.” He’s not looking at you. Probably because he knows you’ll try to talk him out of it. 

“Please stay. Marco is out looking as we speak and I’m sure he’ll find it.” You’re desperate to keep him protected within the barrier but you’re always painfully aware of the fact that Sky is one of the most stubborn people you’ve ever met. You’re not sure you’ll be able to convince him especially now that you’re broken up. 

“I’m not waiting for someone else to save him. Saul is all I have left.” It’s a brutal reminder of what you took from him when you ended things and it tugs at your heartstrings just how badly you hurt him. 

“Then I’m coming with you.” If he’s going out there, you need to be there too. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to him and you had the chance to stop it. 

“You’re not going with me,” he says as if he has any say at all. 

“If you’re going, I’m going. Package deal, remember?” It’s something you started saying after Riven kept commenting on the fact that you never went anywhere without each other and up until recently you never have. He doesn’t look pleased but he also doesn’t say no. He just hands you a small dagger for you to hold onto to. You grab hold of the water drops lying on the grass and freeze them before levitating them in the air. 

“I think I’m good.” He takes the dagger back without a word and proceeds to the forest. It’s a long trek but you don’t complain. You asked to be here and as much as you hate the uncomfortable silence that’s formed between the two of you, you’re glad you’re here. There’s no point in the search because it’s impossible to figure out what direction the Burned One headed but all you can do is keep a lookout and hope you get lucky. 

“Stop,” you whisper grabbing hold of his sleeve. He stops moving but you feel the shiver in his arm where your fingers grazed his skin. 

“Sorry,” you mumble letting go of him. A little further ahead, you see something move. Sky pulls out his sword and you channel your feelings ready to freeze it in place. It’s not the first time you and Sky has worked together, but it is the first time it’s been outside of training. 

“I freeze, you stab.” He nods hardly moving a muscle. You direct your power at the Burned One freezing every part of it to keep it from moving. You hold it in place feeling the fire inside of it trying to beat your ice but as you see Sky run towards it, you feel more motivated than ever to win. He stabs it right through its core and when you feel its resistance die out, you let go of control. It falls to the ground officially dead. 

“We did it,” you say out of breath. How you haven’t passed out from sleep deprivation yet is beyond you but it’s catching up to you now. 

“I’ll call Silva,” you say ignoring the need to fall asleep right here on the ground. It takes two rings before he picks up shouting about how irresponsible you are for taking off and hunting Burned Ones yourself. He doesn’t say thank you, but you know it’s hidden between the lines. 

“He’s definitely feeling better,” you say once he’s done giving both of you an earful. He demands you both return to school at once and now that you’ve killed the right one, you can oblige easily. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Sky says on your way back.

“Of course. I know what Silva means to you.” This time the silence is comfortable almost as if nothing went wrong between the two of you. But Stella’s ultimatum is still weighing heavy on your mind. 

“Can I ask you to do something without any questions?” you ask him right before you reach the barrier. 

“What is it?” he asks but you need him to promise you before you tell him. You know he’ll never agree to it otherwise. 

“Promise me,” you say pausing just before the barrier. From here you can see the school and the students training out on the grass as if it’s just a normal day. But to them it probably is.

“I promise.” 

“I need you to take Stella on a date.” His glare might just pierce you from pure anger. 

“No questions. You promised!” He’s about to protest but stops himself. He’s a man of his word even if he hates it right now.

“Fine.” He starts walking leaving you behind. The second people spot you, they stare at you like you just arrived with the circus. 

“Is that them?”

“Do you think it’s true?” 

“Are we in danger?” Everyone is whispering and pointing fingers making you feel incredibly uncomfortable. You notice Musa not too far away and head over to her. 

“What’s going on?” Before she has a chance to tell you, a first year taps you on the shoulder. A bunch of girls are watching from afar making it obvious that the first year in front of you is here on a dare. 

“Is it true?” she asks continuously looking back at her friends. 

“Is what true?” you ask confused ignoring the sneaking suspicion you feel. 

“Is it true that you’re a changeling?” 

#sky x reader #sky blurb #sky imagine #sky gif #sky #fate the winx saga #fate the winx club #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate

[the-last-kenobi]

Bro I’m sorry but I just love your stuff 💀 “why didn’t you run when I told you?” Qui Gon and obi wan? And like angst x50 :>

I’m so flattered that you enjoy my writing this much!

Angst x50...?

Oh, I think I can do that. At least I hope so.

(Sorry this is so late work has been absolute hell)

From this various prompts list. (Requests are currently closed)

_

There’s a mission to Naboo.

The mission turns into a trap, turns into a Republic-altering conflict.

The conflict leads them to a boy, and the boy is the Chosen One.

The Chosen One saves them, and in return they save him.

Along the way they encounter a long-dead foe from eons past, a nightmarish predator snarling in their wake as they flee towards the hope of safety.

There is a battle that threatens to turn into war, and the Chosen One clings to a Jedi Master’s side, his only hope in this world of terror and upheaval.

It is a long chain of winding and unexpected events all linked so closely together, and Qui-Gon is determinedly trying to keep them in order, to keep his serenity as the galaxy teeters on the edge, and he focuses on what he must. He centers on Naboo and on Anakin.

The Sith may come; he will deal with that if it does.

The Council may try to prevent him taking Anakin, and this too can be dealt with later.

All else is detail.

The Sith does arrive, and he and Obi-Wan rise up together to meet him, determined to prevent whatever chaos he intends to sow.

A kick that misses its mark, an uppercut violently parried — Qui-Gon worries, bombarded by his concerns like they are hail swirling around him in a fierce storm and he alone remains still at the center, trying not to lose his footing — a flurry of blows, and then Obi-Wan receives a brutal kick that sends him falling over the edge.

Qui-Gon’s heart leaps into his throat, but Obi-Wan catches himself on the ledge and hauls himself back up, rejoining the fight in seconds. And still, still, what will the Council say about the Sith, what will they say about Anakin, why is the Sith here on Naboo, why is there a Sith at all?

Serenity.

He clings to it.

He is the elü-tree, bending in the winds but not broken by them, a lonesome green thing in a world of rain.

He and his Padawan pursue the Sith all the way into a corridor filled with red ray shields that snap open and shut on a too-quick cycle, and somehow, Qui-Gon finds himself just a little too slow, not quite quick enough, and there is a barrier between himself and the other two.

It is just one barrier. It will fall in time.

They must finish this quickly, save proof for the Order, return to the battle above, protect young Anakin—

And then Obi-Wan falls.

Qui-Gon blinks and misses it; one moment he is staring through the last ray shield and meditating on what he must do, and the next moment his Padawan is curled facedown against a wall, motionless, his lightsaber extinguishing and rolling away from his limp fingers.

The Sith chuckles, stooping to retrieve the weapon, and he looks up at Qui-Gon, still trapped behind the next barrier.

Qui-Gon is rooted to the spot, unable to move, to breathe, to think.

He can’t tear his eyes away from Obi-Wan, and a surge of terror so strong it obliterates all other thoughts surges through him, and he needs to see Obi-Wan’s face, needs to reach him—

The barrier falls.

Qui-Gon surges towards his Padawan, his chest tight with fear, only to be blocked by the swing of a very familiar blue blade.

The Sith has ignited Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and he stands mere feet away, swinging his own staff in one hand and Obi-Wan’s in the other, laughing at him.

Qui-Gon tries again to reach his Padawan and again he is prevented by a slash of the blue saber, and this time it gouges a burning scar in the pristine flooring, a visible mark between himself and his apprentice. Qui-Gon leaps to his full height and lunges at the Sith, rage blossoming inside his fear.

Obi-Wan remains crumpled against the wall as his Master flings himself into battle, and Qui-Gon is constantly, painfully aware of him, frightened by his own desperation.

For a moment, though he tries, he cannot even remember the name of the boy from Tatooine.

The Zabrak swings upwards unexpectedly with his saber staff collides with the very top of the hilt of Qui-Gon’s despite his attempt to dodge, and there is a flash of brilliant green light and flickers of flame, and Qui-Gon collides with the wall. His head strikes metal and he sees stars - and through them, the Sith stalking towards him, both sabers raised.

He bares his teeth in a feral grin and considers both lightsabers with exaggerated care, and finally lowers his red double-bladed weapon and raises the blue one he stole from Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon is about to die at his Padawan’s blade, and he has failed so utterly he cannot comprehend it.

And inside his head, his thoughts are singular but frantic, darting about in a panic like a bird caught in a net, beating its wings in futility- Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan—

It’s as if he’s summoned him.

Obi-Wan appears out of nowhere, white to the lips, his blue eyes blazing to rival the glow of his stolen lightsaber. He has no weapon, but he flings out his hand and clenches it into a fist, and the Sith is yanked backwards violently as if an invisible hand has taken hold of his collar, and the blue lightsaber misses Qui-Gon by inches.

Howling, the Zabrak rounds on the defenseless Obi-Wan, who steadies himself, a slight grimace crossing his pale features and his eyes narrowed against the bright lights of the room.

“Obi-Wan—run—” Qui-Gon gasps out.

Neither of the other two seem to hear him.

Qui-Gon struggles to get to his feet, but there’s a scattered, blistering pain across his stomach and chest, and his head is throbbing at the point where it struck the wall, and his heart is still going much too fast —

— and still, still, all he can think now is Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan ducks and weaves, playing light on his feet, facing an opponent that has already bested his Master and who wields two weapons, and he looks so damned calm, while Qui-Gon feels drunk on fear, fear as he hasn’t felt since Tahl, or perhaps he’s never felt it quite like this, watching his student risk his life like this with no way to help—

“No, Obi-Wan!” he barks out, forcing the fear from his tone, inflicting all the stern command he can muster. “Go find the others! Run!”

And for the first time since Melida/Daan, Obi-Wan Kenobi ignores a direct order.

He spares a moment to look at his Master, and the strangest thing happens.

He smiles.

It’s all kindness and understanding and the flash of dimples, hand in hand with a deep affection in his blue eyes, and there is so much joy and so much sadness in this one fleeting expression that Qui-Gon is left baffled.

“Padawan!” he cries, forcing himself to his knees as the room spins and as he does so Obi-Wan stumbles. A blood-red saber severs his left arm just above the elbow.

Obi-Wan screams, and Qui-Gon screams too, or thinks he does, trying in vain to make his vision settle.

Qui-Gon staggers to his feet and falls again, to his knees, and the Sith turns his head. The Zabrak keeps the tip of his red saber staff an inch from Obi-Wan’s chest as the boy pants for air, clinging to the stump of his arm. But the Sith smiles again, and raises Obi-Wan’s saber once again to point at Qui-Gon’s throat.

He’s kneeling like a prisoner presented for the execution, and he has nothing to offer, no plea for life, nothing with which to protect himself or his apprentice.

Silence falls.

It drags on for several seconds that feel like an age, and Qui-Gon stares up at the blurred image of the Zabrak’s face with vague confusion, waiting for the death blow.

Instead he watches as the Sith crumples to the floor.

And when he falls facedown, Qui-Gon can see the broken, sharp-tipped remains of his broken lightsaber hilt buried between the Sith’s shoulder blades, still spitting sparks.

And behind that, Obi-Wan, his remaining hand raised and trembling, staring at what he had wrought.

The world tilts.

Then tilts again.

Qui-Gon cannot find room for pride at the boy’s ingenuity, because the Sith did not fall without lashing out one last time — and there is a burning hole in Obi-Wan’s tunic, and Obi-Wan has been run through.

For another few moments everything is suspended, and they might as well be frozen in carbonite for all they are able to move.

Obi-Wan does not fall this time.

This time he sighs, too deep and too long, as if all the air is leaving his lungs at once, and he walks forward on shaky legs to kneel before his Master. His right hand - his only hand - comes up slowly to grip Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

Qui-Gon stares at him, hardly able to breathe himself.

“Obi-Wan,” he says softly. The name comes out broken and fragile as spun glass, already webbed over with cracks, and he can’t stop thinking of how in all the chaos and upheaval of the last few weeks he somehow forgot to factor in Obi-Wan, actually forgetting for a moment in the Council chambers that he owed the boy anything.

Expecting him to follow, as always.

Why hadn’t Obi-Wan fled? He had ordered him to run. Almost begged him.

But Obi-Wan had stayed.

Obi-Wan had lost an arm.

Obi-Wan was dying.

“…Padawan,” he says, and his voice strains to breaking point.

The boy’s eyes and lips flicker in the ghost of a smile, the shadow of that strange, desperately sad smile he had given him before, and then Obi-Wan’s hand slides off his shoulder and he slumps forward, his arm dangling down his Master’s back and his head coming to rest against the crook of his neck.

This is where all sense of reality leaves Qui-Gon.

An hour ago it felt like he had been dueling the fates themselves, holding somehow to the reins of destiny on a path only he could glimpse.

He knows that somehow, he cradles his grown apprentice in his arms like a child and somehow he carries him all the way back to the main level of the palace, and somehow he staves off his own collapse until after someone with kind eyes and a professional smile has settled the barely-breathing Padawan into a medical bed.

He wakes a day later with the shrapnel removed from his abdomen and the damage to his skull on the mend, and Obi-Wan is like a corpse kept alive by machines and by the desperate thrumming of the small, hopeful bird that still says Obi-Wan Obi-Wan Obi-Wan Obi-Wan.

~

There is a treaty and a celebration.

There is a meeting with the Council and grave discussions of the future and the peril of the Sith.

There is an exception made for Anakin Skywalker and the boy is moved to the Initiate’s wing under the comforting arm of Shaak Ti, who has volunteered as his mentor, another exception made for the maybe-Chosen-One.

There is silence hovering over Obi-Wan like a shroud.

The Healers talk and talk and talk and then they realize he is not listening and so they let him be, with small shakes of the head and tired sighs that he does not, will not see or hear.

He waits by Obi-Wan’s side whenever he is not busy elsewhere, which is always, because there is so little for the injured Jedi who was nearly slain by a Sith to do after everyone has heard his story ten times over.

He holds Obi-Wan’s hand, his only hand, sometimes.

Other times he finds himself counting each bead in the Padawan braid, trying to remember where they all came from and how he came to earn them. He is relieved when he finds he knows each story.

He knows so much about this boy.

This almost-Knight.

But he has so many questions, too, and so he waits and waits for Obi-Wan to wake so he can answer them.

There are many days of waiting.

And then there are many more.

They move Obi-Wan back to their shared quarters at Qui-Gon’s insistence. Obi-Wan is Knighted at the Council’s insistence. Qui-Gon requests that they leave the braid until it can be properly cut. The Council does not argue.

Anakin stops looking to him for a friendly greeting when they pass in the halls. There is something pitying in the way the small boy looks at him now, something strangely knowing, yet also judging.

Qui-Gon struggles to care.

He’s still waiting for Obi-Wan.

There are many things for them to discuss.

~

There comes a day when the russet haired slumberer takes a breath and then does not take another.

The dutiful Master stands at the pyre with his cowl drawn high and his face in shadow, barely more substantial than shadow himself, a phantom tethered to life by a singular purpose now gone.

An old friend catches him by the arm after the embers fade and the ashes are scattered, and Mace Windu says to him, “Whatever it was you wanted to ask him… you must let it go.”

The words are gentle. But urgent.

“I cannot,” replies the phantom. “I need to know.”

“Obi-Wan would not have wanted this for you,” says Windu fiercely. “This is not what he died for.”

There is care in those words. An affection for the long-gone boy that Windu felt and still feels, but it doesn’t matter because the bearer of that affection is ashes.

“I don’t know what he would have wanted,” answers the other. “I did not get to ask him.”

“Is that what you wanted to know?” A trace of pity. “What Obi-Wan wanted?”

Qui-Gon pauses to collect his thoughts.

There is by now a very long list of questions he has — had — for Obi-Wan.

But there is just one question that he wants the answer to, but is too afraid to ask, would never have asked even if Obi-Wan had opened his eyes and righted the galaxy with his simple presence.

Why didn’t you run when I asked you to?

“I wanted to ask him,” Qui-Gon says at last, “why he smiled.”

fin

#my writing #star wars #star wars fic #prompt fill #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #guess who’s back #it’s me #i’m late #but I am here and I brought the angst #you can have it for free #except maybe with the cost of your heart #I sure hurt mine writing this #Naboo au #star wars au #tw injury #tw loss of limb #tw major character death #obi wan and qui gon #qui gon and obi wan #master & padawan

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Hi! This is my first time requesting lol. So this is for the event.

I wanted to request a scenario, with line 2, and akutagawa x reader. And I wanted it to be angst to fluff.

I don’t really care about details so you have free will with this.

Akutagawa x Reader 

2- “I hate it! I hate that I love you!”

I went with a mission scenario. Hope you enjoy!

Words- 1,155

~

Underneath the moon that laid full among the clouds, the night was rather silent. There was no wind to rustle the trees, even the crickets had stopped their chirping. The world was silent in his presence; The black-fanged hellhound, the name given to him. It was always so silent when he took steps outside. Enemies were so easily crushed by his hand. He did it all to be noticed by somebody; A male who had long left the mafia to be a detective.

You had no idea when it had happened, nor how for the matter; but it did. Your heart raced whenever he got close. Maybe it was the way he held himself with confidence, his will to keep getting stronger. Maybe his looks had been the factor to draw you in. Despite being pale and rather sickly in his appearance, there was an odd handsomeness to that look. Perhaps it was how he dressed that made him look so fascinatingly handsome? Whatever it was… you hated it. Hated that you were pulled to a serial murderer. Somebody with such a cold heart, not even fire, could melt the cage of ice around it. He was somebody who cared for nothing but his own strength. 

Yet why did he seem so upset now, staring at you with a cold, heartless rage? His almost non-existent brows furrowed as he glared at your retreating form. His lips threatened to move but the silence hadn’t cracked. Only moments ago he’d almost been taken by surprise. Had you not stepped in and knocked the sniper cold, he would have been shot. Was he thinking you found him weak? Maybe, he thought, at that moment, you were looking down at him. As much as you hated this man for what he did, you would never be able to help the guilt that would rise if you had a chance to help him, but chose not to. If he got hurt and you could have prevented it, that would be a living nightmare of guilt.

The silence of the night faded with his voice. Ending the silence with anger, his ability; Rashomon, activated surrounding him as he growled. “Why did you do that? Do you have a death wish?” taken aback by his aggressiveness you shook your head.

Opening your mouth to respond, you chose your words carefully. “You didn’t notice, so I just… stepped in.” he seemed displeased by the answer.

“I could have handled that! I told you to stay back!” You hated him at times like this. The pounding of your heart grew as he raised his voice.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” your voice was meek as you prepared your barrier ability to protect yourself from Rashomon; if Akutagawa chose to attack you.

“I’m not weak! If something like that caught me off guard then, I’d be a fool! Why do you care? I didn’t need you here, I didn't need you anywhere near me! You're just… baggage! I’m perfectly fine on my own!” the words fell from his lips, but there was another emotion behind his words. Though the anger powered over them, you knew there was another reason he was lashing out with words, rather than his ability.

His words cut like knives, each syllable a new cut. “I don’t think you’re weak Akutagawa! I just… I didn't want to see you hurt! I know it’s stupid but… I’m supposed to be your partner!” just until this truce ended you thought. Just until this little truce was over, then you would be left to the dust. He’d leave you. Those tears from his words were beginning to feel like a tidal wave pushing against a dam. Becoming harder to hold back you dropped your head to look towards the floor.

“You act as if you care. If you do, you shouldn’t, I don't have time for such things. I have to get stronger.” he went to turn around but paused, looking at how that simple sentence broke the dam. It was not supposed to happen in front of him, but salty water started falling in drips before your own anger bubbled up, drops turning into rivers.

“I hate it! I hate that I love you!”  you hissed the words through your teeth. Holding your hands in fists, you let out a shaky breath, staring at the tear stains that landed on the pavement. “I hate that I care! I do, but it’s not something I can make go away! Can you at least act like you're not some heartless monster! I know you're not, I have seen times when you show consideration! You’re not a monster, you're not weak or worthless either! You’re human, why can’t you see there are people around you that care!” 

This was what he’d been avoiding; A confession. Somehow you had snuck around the ice and wrapped warmth around the cold. The words you spoke were like arrows. They woke him up, the things he’d been denying suddenly so clear. He was not one for affection or anything like it, but he’d screwed up. Swearing under his breath he grabbed you and pulled you close. “A word to anybody and I’ll tear your tongue out.” he hissed. Carefully he slid one arm from Rashomon and let it lay over the both of you. “I hate it too... This stupid feeling is a weakness.”

Shock radiated through you, but it prevented you from pulling away. You reached for his hair, running a tender hand through it. Your head leaned against his chest sniffing as he clicked his tongue. Turning away to hold the pink of his cheeks. “Idiot,” you grumbled but tossed your own arms around him.

It was a contact he found he enjoyed. This thing called affection wasn’t that bad. He’d never truly been shown any before this moment. One could say he’d been afraid of affection before this. “While a weakness, it also acts as a strength. A reason to keep fighting.” your voice was hoarse from the shouting and the tears, but it was still sweet. 

Maybe you were right, but the fear would always be there. If his enemy found out you’d be targeted. Though you could handle yourself, he would still worry. He hated it, the feelings that accompanied this feeling. “Maybe…” he grumbled the word as you wiggle free. Setting the half of his coat back on his shoulder.

You leaned in with a boldness he’d never seen cross you before. A soft peck on his cheek before turning around completely red. He too went completely red, looking to the side. He was honestly adorable, but you were too flustered to make much notice. “S-see you later?” you mumbled looking back to notice him nod slightly.

“Mhm…” did you... break him? He seemed to not be responding properly. Whatever it was, the feeling inside both your chest was comforting.

#bsd #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa angst to fluff #akutagawa fluff #akutagawa angst #akutagawa #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #100 follower event

[forever-rogue]

could you possibly do 142 and 145 for Javier Peña, all the angst /hurt no comfort (depending on how you feel 🙂)

Prompts Used:

142. “I waited and waited, but you never came back.”

145. “I wasn’t going to wait around for you forever.”

Pairing: Javier x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier swiped a tired hand over his face as he looked around your apartment. It was immaculately clean, which wasn’t far off the mark for you, but it was also empty. Now that was definitely wrong and cause for suspicion. He’d come to yours for dinner, like it had become his custom to do most nights when he wasn’t out working until the wee hours of the morning but this time was different. This time there was nothing he was coming home to. You were gone, all of your things were gone, no note, no call, nothing. It was like you had up and disappeared without a trace.

In his frantic efforts to soothe and ease his anxieties and worries, he had gone back to his apartment to see if you were there for some reason. Hell, he’d even called up Steve and asked him if he’d heard from you or anything. He was growing desperate. You were so open and communicative normally this was highly unlike you. At least he knew you were more than likely safe; it didn’t seem like anyone associated with Escobar knew who you were or that they would just come and pack up your things and take you. No...this was considerably more calculated and cunning. This was something that had been planned. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. That’s what it made it hurt so much worse; that’s what made his stomach twist and churn and his heart constrict. This was something that you had obviously been planning for a while.

He leaned against the wall before sliding down to the floor and looking at the ceiling as he tried to ground himself. His dark eyes were bloodshot and prickled with the unfamiliar sting of tears as he tried to figure what could have possibly happened. What changed so suddenly?

Javier had been so careful over the years, building so many walls and barriers to protect and guard himself. He’d steeled his heart and cut off displaying most emotions in order to preserve what little feeling and emotion he had left within himself. It seemed to dwindle to less and less every day. 

But then he’d let you; completely by chance and utterly by accident at a bar where he aided in protecting from a man that was relentless in his pursuit of you. You’d approached him with wide doe eyes, mouthing something he couldn’t quite make out - was it the noisy bar or the several drinks he’d already knocked back? - before throwing your arms around him and kissing him till you were both breathless before loudly declaring him your boyfriend for the other man to overhear. 

It wasn’t long after that before you really were calling him your boyfriend - and meaning it. For whatever reason, it was you that had been able to break down all of his walls and defenses, caringly and lovingly day by day. And while it terrified him, he let it happen little bit by bit until he realized why; he loved you. The realization had come to him slowly but surely and then it had hit him like a freight train. At first it had scared him to death; he never thought he’d experience those feelings again and yet here they were. And it all felt so easy, so simple and that’s how he knew. And when those three little words left his lips at the end of a quiet evening, while you two were just relaxing and watching an old film while knocking back a few beers, he didn’t mind at all. The way you’d looked back at him with those sweet, wide eyes and how softly you repeated it back had been everything to him. He hadn’t regretted the decision at all and for once in life, he was happy to be all in. 

But then...why had it led to this? There had been no major fight, no big disagreement that could have explained any of this. But you were just gone. 

A long, deep inhale and exhale escaped past dry, trembling lips. He’d been working more lately, that was for sure. The closer and closer they got to Escobar, the less and less time he’d had for you. And for the most part, you hadn’t questioned him, or anything of the sort; you’d expressed concerns for his health - physical and mental - and his safety, and pleaded with him to slow and not rush into things heads on, but he didn’t listen. Of course he didn’t. And you understood for the most part; he job was in no joke, no walk in the park. But still didn’t make things easier. You tried to be there for him as much as possible in whatever way he needed, but over time it became increasingly difficult. 

Nights spent together turned into Javier slinking into your bed in the early mornings and then leaving again before you were even up. He’d shown up on your doorstep injured more than a time or two, luckily never anything permanent, but it still hurt your heart. Even your weekend outings were becoming less and less frequent, turning into a relic of the past while you just missed him. If there would have been a way to help him, you would have but he had made it a point to keep you a separate part of his life. You didn’t know the horrors and never deserved too, he always claimed. What had started as something unstoppable and wild slowly fizzled into dying touches and unspoken words.

“Fuck,” he sighed to himself more than anything as he buried his face into his hands, “fuck.”

Javier remained there for a few moments, trying to gather his racing thoughts and come up with a logical conclusion on what could have happened. He was a smart man, and it really shouldn’t have been difficult for him to piece together. And then all at once, it hit him.

“Shit,” he jumped to his feet as he grabbed his keys and ran out to his car, ready to race to the airport. He was willing to pull any stunt to keep you grounded until he at least had the chance to speak to you. There was no doubt in his mind that you were planning an escape; from him and Colombia.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey!” Javier held up his DEA badge as he ran towards the terminal he had learned you were at. Boarding was set to begin in a few minutes so he was brazenly running like his life depended on it in order to get to you on time. He received more than a few curious glances as he weaved his way through people, his gaze honed in on you. You’d been sitting there, quietly reading, but as soon as you heard his shouts, you’d looked up in horror. He had the sneaking suspicion that you had hoped he wouldn’t put two and two together or if he did, that he wouldn’t find you in time.

“Dulzura!” he stopped directly in front of you as a hand clutched at his chest, his heart beating wildly and practically threatening to burst through, “I waited and waited and you never came back. Figured it out - what are you doing?”

“Javier,” you hissed as you slammed your book shut and put it away in your bag. Curious onlookers were almost staring at the two of you as you put a hand on his shoulder and dragged him off to the side, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” his dark eyes grew wide as he looked at you suspiciously, “what the hell are you doing here at the airport? Your whole apartment was packed and now you’re here?”

“My internship at the University ended last week,” you reminded him as a surprised look crossed his features. Of course he’d known...he was supposed to remember anyway. It had been marked on his calendar, but he’d been so damn busy with everything else he’d completely overlooked it. You’d even had plans to go out and celebrate...but instead he’d forgotten and you’d come home to a dark and empty apartment. 

“I-I knew that…”

“Did you?” you didn’t intend for your response to be so harsh, but it was venomous and biting “because you didn’t say a word. I didn’t even see or hear from you that day.”

“Dulzura, I’m so, so sorry. Please let me-”

“I have nothing keeping me here in Colombia anymore, Javier,” you told him quietly, and you loathed how horrible it sounded. You were trying to get a point across, but wished it didn’t have to be like this, “I’m going back home to the states.”

“You have nothing...you have me,” he reminded you, shock and horror marring his features as he tried to reach for you. You recoiled out of his touch for the first time, shocking you both, "please let me explain…"

"There's nothing to explain, Javier," his name was a soft sigh as you hung your head. Your heart was always feeling heavy as you looked at his crestfallen face, "its just...its not the first thing you've forgotten lately. Our anniversary, my birthday, now this."

"Dulzura-"

"I know your job is important, I know how much this means to you," a shaky exhale left your lips as a single tear rolled down your cheek, "that's why I haven't really complained. But I can't...I can't do this, where I'm the fourth or fifth priority in your life. I know your job needs you, and so many people depend on you. But I need you to be present too. Sometimes I feel like I'm alone more than I'm not. You're here but you're not really here. I know that it sounds selfish but I want you too."

"I know things have been crazy lately," he was tempted to reach up and touch your cheek but stopped himself. He wasn't sure if he could take more heartbreak, "but they’ll settle down...they'll get better and it will all be over soon. I swear it. I just need a little more time."

"And that's what you've been saying for months," it was a sharp, cruel reminder of how things had really been. You didn't want to be mad at him or end up resenting everything about him, which was partially the reason for how things had turned out, why you'd made your decision, "its like there's a whole part of you I don't even know, that happens to be a majority of your life."

"I just want to keep you safe," he huffed, running a hand through his already messy hair, "that's all. It's-"

"Dangerous," you finished for him, "I know, and I get it. I do but I just...I can’t do this anymore. Where I only get half of you, or even less. I know it’s horribly selfish and I might be the worst person alive, but I can’t...I can’t do this anymore, Javi. I want to be able to get all of you, and to know you’re safe and sound and that I don’t have to worry about...you getting hurt...or worse.”

“It won’t always be like this,” he insisted softly, as you nodded in agreement. One day things would come to a head, whether or not they were in his favor was yet to be determined. And you did love him, more than anything. More than life itself, and the idea of having to watch him get hurt over and over or worse...was too much to bear. And while it sounded cruel and horrible, you’d rather create a distance between yourselves and cut ties rather than deal with the insurmountable loss and grief of Javier, “I just need you to hold on a little longer…”

“Javier...I love you, but I...I wasn’t going to wait around forever,” you sighed lightly, “we both knew that my time here wasn’t permanent and we thought..this would be over by now. If I knew, or you could guarantee me that there was a way this would be over soon and you’d be safe, I would stay. I would. But right now there’s no way to know, and you’re getting further and further away from me and that scares me to death. I-I can’t protect you. I can’t do anything to help and I don’t want to be the one to…”

Deal with your death. 

“Okay,” it was a small sound of defeat as he fought back a whimper that threatened to escape past pouted lips. He knew you were right; gods, you deserved the world and he couldn’t even give you himself or even a semblance of a clear future together. He wished things had been different; and he was mad and angry, not at you but at the cruel world that had allowed him to experience a taste of such saccharine bliss before taking it all away again. He knew there was nothing he could do to convince you to say. None of the arguments were in his favor. He took a step back, lightly nodding at himself, trying to remain composed, “I get it. I do. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to be there for you how you needed. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough.”

“You are more than enough, Javier,” you promised, reaching for his hand as you offered him a gentle touch, “it’s just the situation - the reality of things. I guess we’re not allotted the things we want in life, huh? I wish things were different. I-I wish I was strong to stay here and wait for you. But I can’t…”

Waste years of my life wondering if you were dead or alive. Worrying about my safety and yours and remaining helpless.

“I know,” he took his chances and leaned over, placing a kiss to the side of your head, “you’re right. You should go.”

“Javier,” you leaned into him, tears cascading down your cheeks as you wished you could hold onto him and never let go, “I’m sorry, I really am. I love you, more than you'll ever know. But I just...I tried to tell you I was leaving. But every time I did, you weren't really there or the time wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

“I love you,” he promised softly, “that’s why this hurts more than anything else. I… can’t stop you and you need to do what’s right. This is right. So...go home and be safe. Maybe one day…”

“We’ll see each other again, I promise. One way or another, in this life or the next,” you tenderly cradled his face in your hands before kissing him one last time, “but right now I have to go. I love you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly as you let go, almost jumping at the boarding announcement. Pulling back, you offered him the ghost of a smile before grabbing your bags and heading to check in. 

Javier didn’t turn around to watch you go, instead hanging his head before exhaling loudly, attempting to shake off this situation. He steeled himself again, willing the Javier he used to be to come back up before he walked away and out of the airport, never so much as casting a glance back.

This part of his life was over and done with and he was going to let it die like so many other things.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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