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#NO!!! YOU GOTTA STAY STILL FOR COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS!!!!

ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

bf james potter is the best. but also the worst. the type to buy you a bottle of cherry flavoured lube, slide it across the table to u with his eyebrows raised and his mouth downturned, trying to act all coy. he means well, okay! he knows how much you like his dick and he wants you to like it even more, more than anything, and maybe if it tastes like those cherries you beg him to buy every time you grocery shop, then maybe, just maybe, you wouldnt be so shy when ur both... in the act doing certain things.

okay so he definitely has the fantasy of you just slobbering all over him for whatever amount of time, not even focused on him really, just focused on how he feels and tastes and stuff (cus even when its his pleasure, he still, above all else, wants it to be yours too. and he has a sneaky idea that you really do enjoy it too, ur just a bit shy is all)

ahhh, to see you wrapped up in your own pleasure, almost as if ur just playing and exploring his dick with ur mouth and hands. he vividly imagines u squirting on the largest amount of the lube and spreading it around his dick, like he can see it behind his eyes so clearly, and he can so perfectly imagine how youd drag it out without realising and hnnnggg he finds it so hot. so so so hot. (almost as hot as imaging u doing all this with the prettiest, cherry-red lingerie on that he hasn't mustered up the balls to gift you yet, still stuffed deep in the back of his closet. but the lube? yeah he couldn't find the shame to hold back on gifting you that. but knowing you, if he did gift you that, youd probably doll urself up so nice for him.. youd curl ur hair and make ur lips match, maybe youd let him finally treat you and spoil you with ur nails doing or something.. god he can dream, though, cant he?)

U GOTTA STOP DOING THIS TO ME I'M TOO HORNY...

this post is 18+, minors dni.

he hands it to you like he's passing you a french fry. he just whips it out at the breakfast table, and you're lucky you don't choke on your toast as you read the label. you splutter and cough for a second and hiss 'James!' but he puts his hands up in a real 'do-what-you-want-with-it' gesture.

"Just in case, love," He goes back to eating his own breakfast, "Jus' wanna make sure you like it, too."

You can't quite bring yourself to tell him that you do like it, but you're literally eating a bowlful of cherries alongside your toast and you appreciate that he's trying to make it your favorite flavor. it's overall a mortifying ordeal, but james watches you tuck it carefully into your nightstand later, so he knows he hasn't crossed a line. and he thinks of the lingerie he got you that's in his own nightstand, just sitting there collecting dust as he tries gathering the courage to really spoil you. he probably has an intense wet dream that night, one where you lick and suck and drool all over his cock simply because you like it, not specifically to make him cum. he does, though, he actually cums untouched in his pants, and manages to slip off to take a shower without you noticing.

you do notice, though, of course you only pretend to stay asleep, and the second he's in the shower you reach for the bottle of lube, squirting the tiniest glob onto your finger and sucking it off, wishing that your digit was a thick as James's cock would be as you stick your hand down your panties to satiate your own urges brought on by his unconscious moaning and groaning

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction #james potter smut

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lgbtqasacrew · 5 months

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Can I request an OFMD post-S2 AU Steddyhands fanfic where Izzy survived Ricky's bullet but it is uncertain for a while if he is going to make it or not and Stede and Ed are practically glued to his side, refusing to leave him in case he... neither of them dares to even think that word?

Summary: Izzy survives the gunshot wound but ends up unconscious, whilst Ed and Stede stay by his bedside they realise that they might both be in love the man.

Relationships: established Stede x Ed, Pre-steddyhands

Word count: 1.7k+

Warnings: Descriptions of injury, hand wavey pirate medical care, mentions of violence

Ed gently lowers Izzy onto the deck, it hits him, how close they are to the place where he almost died. Almost being the word he clings onto, because Izzy isn’t going anywhere either. He holds the man close as he drifts in and out of consciousness. “Stay with me Iz, you’ve gotta stay with me” tears rolling down his cheek.

Stede goes into full panic mode, running around the ship collecting anything that could help. He’s almost scared to return to the deck, scared of what he might find, what if Izzy - no, he’s going to be fine. He has to be fine, he’s one of the strongest men Stede has ever met.

He runs back to the deck, just in case time is running out. Ed is still holding him, Izzy’s eyes are closed and he dreads the worst. “Is he?”

Ed shakes his head “He’s still breathing, just” relief floods over him.

Stede tosses the medical supplies to the side and crouches down beside the two men. He takes Izzy’s hand in his, it feels so cold.

“Ok, you both need to move now” Roach tells them. “I can’t help him with you in the way” he adds when they don’t move.

“Come on love” Stede reluctantly releases Izzy’s hand to take Ed’s instead.

Neither man moves far, huddled together as they watch Roach do everything he can. They barely notice the rest of the crew who are crowded around behind them, too caught up in their own distress.

Ed’s squeezing Stede’s hand so hard it hurts but he can’t even find it in himself to mind, in fact it’s quite nice to have the distraction. Izzy looks so pale laid out on the deck, it breaks his heart. They were finally starting to build a friendship, or what Stede had hoped was becoming a friendship, he was becoming quite fond of the man.

Eventually Roach manages to stem the bleeding before he wraps the bandages. It’s all he can do, now it’s just a waiting game. Ed carries him carefully to the captain’s cabin, gently lowering him onto the bed, wanting him to have the most comfortable bed for his recovery.

Stede leaves the deck with a promise to the crew that he will keep them updated, before he closes the door to the cabin behind him. Leaving the three of them alone, he hovers by the door, too scared to see Izzy like that again. It takes all his courage to finally approach the bed.

Ed has pulled up a chair next to the bed, he looks so dejected it breaks Stede’s heart all over again. It suddenly hits him, the similarity of the situation he’d found himself in only days ago. The way he’d sat next to Ed’s bedside when he thought the man to be dead. How he thought he’d never see Ed again, and now history was repeating itself. Why had it taken Izzy getting shot to make him realise how much care he has for the man.

He tries to keep his tears silent, not wanting to add to Ed’s distress, but he can’t help the sob that tears through his throat. Izzy lying there so still, he should be walking around with his unicorn leg tapping against the floor, teasing him about curses or how bad he is swinging on a rope.

Ed’s head immediately snaps up in Stede’s direction, the man just stood there, tears streaming down his face. He rushes over to him, embracing the blonde in his arms. “Shh, it’s okay, love. He’s going to be okay”

He holds Stede until the sobs subside, gently reassuring the man as he rubs soothing circles into his back. Eventually Stede pulls away, wiping the remaining tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, Ed. I’m being selfish, Izzy needs you right now”

“Hey, none of that okay? I love you, if you’re upset then I want to comfort you, just like you’re comforting me. C’mon, love” guiding Stede back to the bed where he climbs in between Izzy and the windows. Ed takes his seat in the chair by the bed, immediately taking Izzy’s hand again whilst Stede takes the other.

Ed’s fingers trace over the callouses on Izzy’s skin, every one a reminder of his years of work and dedication, most of which were right by Ed’s side. Two twenty somethings fighting side by side, dreaming of bigger, better. Now look at them, one almost dead and one back from the dead. How their relationship had gotten muddled over the years, friends, companions in some way, first mate and captain. Both holding some sort of love for the other but never being able to define or voice it. But he can now, too little too late, he thinks. His love for Izzy is big and real and so different to the way he loves Stede but not any less important or beautiful.

“This is all my fault” Ed whispers

Stede can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “What?”

“I took his fuckin’ leg Stede, and Ricky used that against him, and now he might-“ he couldn’t even finish that sentence. The time of the Kraken is still such a blur to Ed but he has flashes of memory, pushing Izzy against a wall, taking his toes, shooting him in the leg. They’ll haunt him forever, even more so if Izzy doesn’t make it. He hates how they could never communicate right, always using the other in some way or another, now he may never get to fix that.

“Ed no, what happened with Izzy’s leg was a terrible incident, but he forgave you. He wouldn’t want you blaming yourself. Anyway if anyone’s to blame, it’s me”

“Stede-“

“It was all my idea, even when it was pointed out to me that this was a suicide mission I still insisted it went ahead” He’d thought it such a great idea, dangerous, but if executed well he’d felt it could really work. Got too caught up in the theatrics and the fancy outfits, but had he seriously considered the risk it could put his crew in. Yes they’re pirates, but he’s their captain, a captain should protect their crew, Should protect the ones they love.

“Yeah but we chose to go along with it, it was a good idea Stede, we knew the risks. If I’m not allowed to blame myself. you’re not allowed to either, okay?”

“Fine” Stede relents. Both men still feeling guilty on the inside, but they needed to concentrate on Izzy right now.

A day goes by, Izzy still unconscious, neither man has left his side. Only eating or drinking when Roach brings them something whilst he checks on Izzy. The only sleep either of them have is when they pass out with exhaustion, they couldn’t bear it if anything happened whilst they were asleep.

Sometimes they talk, sometimes they just stare at Izzy, willing him to wake up, it never works. Stede’s mind drifts to the first time they’d met, they’d been so bitchy to each other, but he realises now that he’d kinda enjoyed it. Since he’s returned that bitchiness has still been there but it felt different, almost friendly, almost like two lovers. Because he does, doesn’t he, he’s somehow fallen in love with Izzy Hands and that thought thrills and scares him in equal measures.

Another day passes much the same, Ed’s notices a shift in Stede, maybe he’s noticed that Ed’s feelings for Izzy aren’t just platonic. He’s going to have to do that talking things through thing he isn’t he. “Stede?”

“Yes love?”

“There’s something I need to tell you but it doesn’t change how I feel about you, okay?”

“That’s quite ominous darling, I guess you better tell me”

“I think I’m in love with Izzy, actually I know I am, for the first time in my life it’s finally obvious. But I also love you so so much, and I don’t know what to do”

“I think I do too”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I know he doesn’t like me like that, but I really do”

“What now?”

“I don’t know” Stede admits “but we’ll work it out and I want you to know, I would never stop the two of you from being together”

By the third day they’re both totally exhausted and confused, all these newly realised feelings making the whole situation even more complicated.

“Do you think he’s in the gravy basket?” Ed asks at some point, remembering his own time there.

Stede smiles slightly for the first time since the accident, remembering Ed’s story of MerStede. “I think he might be, do you think he’ll see merpeople too?”

Ed laughs “I think that was more my thing, but if he is there, I hope he sees whatever he needs to bring him back”

Izzy is in fact in the gravy basket. If you had asked past Izzy what he thought he’d see if he ever went to the gravy basket, well firstly he would’ve told you that such a thing didn’t exist. But if it did exist, he’d say he’d see Blackbeard asking him to come back and fight with him, as first mate Israel Hands but also as his partner. But that’s not what present Izzy needs to see, he doesn’t need Blackbeard, he needs Edward, his Eddie. But even more surprising, he needs to see Bonnet - Stede, he needs to see the two men he loves most in this world. It only took him almost dying to realise that, whilst he always knew he had love for Edward, it’s a massive shock that he also feels the same way about Stede, or maybe it’s not so surprising after all. Maybe it had always meant to be that way, there’s only one way to find out.

They’re both taken out of their thoughts by a sharp intake of breath, looking down to see Izzy with his eyes wide open. “Eddie” he rasps

“I’m here Iz, I’m here” immediately grabbing his hand

Stede tries to not feel upset, of course he’d want Ed, they’ve known each other for years, they’re in love. but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “Stede?” He’s almost so lost in his self pity that he doesn’t register that Izzy’s not only asking for him, but that’s he’s called him Stede”

He takes Izzy’s other hand in his “I’m here Izzy”

#ofmd #ofmd fanfic #ofmd stede #ofmd ed #ofmd izzy #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #stede x ed #stede x izzy #ed x izzy #steddyhands #ofmd spoilers

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stark---contrast · 2 years

Text

Not Bulletproof

Ship: Stony Rating: Gen Word count: 1.1k ao3 link

"Cap, you've gotta wake up."

Tony’s words felt loud in the sterile hospital room, yet the unconscious body didn’t move in its bed. But that was to be expected; even if Steve could hear him, he'd probably pretend to be KO'd just to spite Tony.

Tony sighed and buried his face in his hands. He probably shouldn't be thinking passive-aggressive thoughts of someone who was potentially on their deathbed. Shit.

"God, I – I really hated you, you know?" Tony said.

Oh, great. Now he was being full-on aggressive instead. Not that it mattered; not when his only audience was an unconscious Steve and the annoying but reassuring beeping of the heart rate monitor.

“Honestly, I still kinda hate you,” Tony huffed. “But, God, when I first saw you, standing there all hoity-toity, and then jumping into a fight between Iron Man and the fucking god of thunder? I really, really wanted to punch you in your stupidly symmetrical face. I ranted Pepper’s ear off about that for like two weeks.”

Silence greeted him. Luckily, Tony was good at monologuing.

"And Pep said, 'he's just a guy, Tony!',” Tony pitched his voice higher to imitate the Pepper in his memory. “To which I said 'of course he’s not, he's Captain fucking America! You know, the hero that got juiced up on super steroids and patriotism and could throw me five blocks even in the armor. That Captain America!' And she gave me this look – you know, the one that's like quietly disapproving but at the same time a little pitying, the – the Pepper patented one."

Steve didn’t react, but Tony still felt like he was being judged by the sleeping face.

"And before this, I didn't realize that she was right – because of course she is, she's Pepper Potts – but you are just a guy. Sure, you've got some nifty upgrades that make you annoyingly better than the rest of us in pretty much every way, but like this?”

Tony looked at the various tubes and machines hooked up to Steve, monitoring his vitals and keeping him alive while they waited for the serum to maybe – hopefully – do its thing.

“You're just Steve: the annoying brat who started bossing me around as soon as we met, only pulling that stick up your ass out long enough to sass me. And who decided to be a complete self-sacrificing idiot and ended up lying there unconscious and stuck with me, of all people."

Tony's voice cracked and he looked away from Steve as he continued talking to the empty room.

"So you gotta pull through. I didn't spend most of my life hating everything about you just so you could croak on me like this – not that I didn’t have a whole dance routine planned to perform on your grave, because I did, but… it's just not right.”

Tony forced a grin and gestured wildly with his hands.

“I mean, come on! We haven't even had our wholly-unexpected-yet-wholesome enemies to lovers arc yet! What good is being a superhero if you don't get at least one scandal in for the press? Sure, being a Capsicle for 70 years was neat, but I think you can top that – I should know, I'm in the papers practically every week for stuff way less cool than that. Did you know –"

"God, do you ever shut up?" a decidedly not-unconscious-Steve grumbled.

"Holy shit!" Tony jumped and made his chair screech against the linoleum floor. “What the fuck, you were just – are you? I should, we, uh – nurse!"

Tony’s genius brain had taken much longer than he'd ever admit to finally remember the right course of action, and he may or may not have frantically mashed the call button before collecting himself.

"So," Tony said, scooting back into his chair. "You're awake."

"Unfortunately," Steve said dryly, before his sour face softened into something resembling a smile. "Thanks for staying."

"Yeah, well," Tony said, poking at a stain on the floor with his designer shoe. "Didn't feel right to ditch – you know, with the whole saving my life thing."

Steve huffed out something that might have been a laugh. "So you repay me by talking my ear off instead of letting me rest?"

"Okay, just how long were you listening to me and pretending to be comatose?"

"Long enough to realize you weren't going to stop on your own," Steve huffed.

Thankfully the nurse chose that moment to rush in, fretting with Steve and checking the monitors and asking rapid-fire questions about his wounds and pain and – yeah, Tony kind of zoned out at that point. He managed to stay fidgeting in his seat for another few minutes before getting to his feet.

"Well! I should –" Tony gestured to the door. "Let you have some peace and quiet."

Steve hummed in agreement while the nurse checked an injury on his shoulder. But right as Tony was at the door, he spoke up.

"Hey, Tony?"

Tony paused. "Yeah?"

"You're paying for dinner," Steve said.

Tony froze for a second as his thoughts scrambled in a hundred different directions.

"What?" he finally managed to get out.

"A good restaurant,” Steve continued. “Something good from the future – none of that raw fish again."

Tony frowned even as he fondly remembered Steve’s misery with the sashimi. "Okay…?"

"Come on,” Steve’s lips were pulling up into an honest-to-god smirk. “The press isn’t gonna print our story without any paparazzi photos.”

Tony's smile slowly widened as the implications of Steve’s words set in. Well, well, well – this was a surprise for sure, but Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t on board.

"Well then you, my dear star-spangled-frenemy, should hurry up and heal so I can swoop you away and get a good pic for the magazine covers," Tony said. "I’ve got to get Pep to make a reservation for the weekend. Someplace nice; can't have the media thinking I'm a cheap date. You just stay here, take it easy, and prepare to be blown away by getting to go on a date with New York's most eligible bachelor."

"Can't wait," Steve said dryly.

Still, Steve’s infuriating little smirk was still there. And though Tony knew that this sudden turn of events would throw everyone for a loop, he had a feeling Steve still had a few tricks up his sleeve that would leave Tony just as dumbfounded.

Naturally, Tony only straightened his back and stepped up to the challenge with a grin.

“It’s a date.”

#stony #stevetony #tony stark #steve rogers #superhusbands #mcu #stony fic #fic #starkfic

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deans-baby-momma · 2 years

Text

The Story of Us-Chapter 12

1,221

A/N: This is a rewrite of a story my good friend @spnbaby-67 allowed me to take and rewrite. All mistakes are mine. This is canon divergent, meaning some things that happened in the show will still happen here but with my own twist to it.

Summary: She and Dean met when they were kids. Even at such a young age, she knew that he was her soulmate. Being the daughter of a hunter, Michaela (Micki) Singer knew the life he led came with a price, but she was up to the challenge.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/reader, Sam Winchester/friend!reader, John Winchester, Mary Winchester (mentioned only), Bobby Singer, and more from the Supernatural universe.

Warnings: Flashbacks are in italics, fluffy stuff, angst stuff, character death, kidnapping, depression, semi-dark themes

WC: 1,221

PRESENT DAY (2008) at the Singer cabin

“You gotta wake up Mick!” Sam pleads. “Dean’s back. I don’t know how and I really don’t care but he’s here and god, is he in love with Maren. You won’t believe your eyes. Dean is so observant and attentive to her,” Sam sighs as he continues watching Micki, his best friend, breathe evenly and steadily like she’s just sleeping. “You’d probably be making fun of him,” he chuckles. “But he is so in love with her and watches her every little move. Please Mick, please wake up. Come back to us. We need you.”

There is no change with her as Sam watches, hoping for a sign that she can hear him and is fighting her way back to her family. “Michaele Singer! Wake your ass up! Now!!” he tries yelling at her but instead of waking her, he wakes the baby.

“Oh my god,” Sam says as he walks over the the bassinet and picks his niece up. “I’m so sorry baby girl. Uncle Sam wasn’t thinking. I just want your Mom to come back to us. Shhhh, it’s okay. I got ya.”

Sam paces the floor at the foot of the bed as he bounces Maren in his arms, calming and comforting her. He keeps glancing toward Micki to see if the cries of her daughter will awaken her.

But Micki stays unconscious.

Summer 1993

Micki and Dean had been at the cabin for a month now, relaxing after a three week long hunt in Texas. The leaves were falling and changing from green to different shades of orange, reds, and browns, making it look like snow how they were falling from the trees. Fall was her favorite time of the year, and since Dean found out that bit of information, he made a point to bring her to the cabin whenever they needed time to get away. She had been outside all morning trying to gather some leaves for the pumpkin bags she had bought to put on the porch for Halloween.

Something inside her, though, made her pause her raking for a moment. She looked both ways and behind her to see if anyone was there. With a mischievous smile, she took a bunch of leaves in all colors, throwing them in the air, high above herself. It gave her plenty of time to twirl around in a circle with her arms stretched out to the side, and her head tilted back feeling the leaves falling down and softly hitting her face.

What Micki didn’t know was that Dean stood on the porch taking photos of her and recording how happy and childlike she was feeling. It made him happy to see her feel like a kid again, something she long ago forgot, due to the life they led.

Suddenly, she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist, only to swing her around then fall into the pile of leaves.

She opened her eyes with a smile on her face. “Dean? Now it’s going to take forever to get the leaves together again.” She chastised as she sat up, leaves still in her hair, trying but failing to look serious.

Dean took a few leaf pieces and blew them gently at her, adding to her collection. “You should have thought about that before you threw them in the air, sweetheart.” He chuckled as he sat up straight, his long bow-legs criss crossed.

She tilted her head slightly to get a leaf out of her hair that was tickling her ear, “You, uh, saw that huh?” She shyly averted her eyes from his to the ground below.

“Hmm I did. Beautiful too, I might add.” He saw a few leaves still in her hair, so he bent forward to retrieve them. “Make a wish, Mickie,” he said, holding it before her.

She looked at him confused. ” Dean you don’t make a wish on a leaf, that’s a four leaf clover," she chuckled.

He held onto the leaf and looked at her seriously, “My dad always said that the first leaf you catch in the fall that’s orange, you make a wish. Supposedly, it’s an old wives tale he used to win mom over. So, make a wish, baby.” He looked at her with so much love in his eyes she couldn’t say no.

She swallowed a lump that formed in her throat, “You sure know what to say to make a girl blush, Dean Winchester," she said, shocking herself that she had said that out loud. She covered her mouth quickly, feeling her cheeks suddenly flush with embarrassment.

“You’re too cute Mickie,” he held the leaf still in front of her, waiting.

“I’m not cute Dean, you clearly have me mixed up with someone else.” She rolled her eyes, taking her gaze from his green emerald eyes to her lap, looking down at the leaf she had been playing with.

He put his finger under her chin, lifting her head up to look at him, “Would I do this if I didn’t think you’re beautiful?”

Seconds later, his lips were pressing against hers. Her eyes widen a moment in pure shock, but then close the more he kisses her. He slides his tongue across the seam of her lips, asking for permission which she awarded.. He kissed her soft, sweet and sensual. She couldn’t help but melt into his arms. She did everything to savor the taste of him, the feel his tongue tangle with hers. When she retracted her tongue he chased after it. She then sucked on the tip of his a moment, eliciting moans she never heard him make before.

Present Day (2008) abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere

Bobby and Dean finish painting the walls and floor with every sigil known to man then Dean watches as Bobby throws powder in a bowl and starts chanting.

Nothing happens. They both look around, bewildered and confused. The air inside the building is still, the only thing heard is the crickets outside.

Bobby leans against the table and crosses his arms, waiting. Dean hops up on a table and sits, swinging his legs.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean asks after a beat. Bobby gives him a look of admonishment. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"

Suddenly everything goes quiet, the air gets heavy and then the roof begins rattling. The guys grab their guns and get ready to defend and fight whatever is on its way in.

"Wishful thinking," Dean says, an air of nervousness in his voice. "Maybe it's just the wind?"

The doors fly open and a man dressed in a suit under a trench coat strolls in, each step causing the bulbs on the ceiling to burst, sending showers of sparks down.

"Who are you?" Dean asks once the man is standing in front of him.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

Dean attacks but none of his weapons do any harm to the man. Bobby tries but the stranger throws him around like a rag doll before touching two fingers to the older man's forehead, knocking him out.

Dean watches it all unfold with terror.

"Dean," the man says as he drops Bobby's limp body to the floor. "We need to talk. Alone."

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @maggiegirl17 @chriszgirl92

#dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #micki singer #dean x micki #the story of us #flashbacks

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quirkykaty · 1 year

Text

Southern Comfort - Chapter Five

Pairing: Daryl x OC(Nic) Warnings: language, mentions of injury, vague threats, Shane and Merle can suck an egg Summary: A busted shoulder will heal, but how about a busted friendship? Nic spends the day coming to terms with her injury and has a few interesting encounters. Wordcount: ~3400 Author's Note: Probably my favorite chapter of the series so far. In the original series, Nic was more of a mouse, so I tried to give her a backbone and make her feelings toward the larger group a bit clearer. Also, I alluded to an antagonism with Shane that was never established, so now it is. (and no Daryl gif because chapter contains no actual Daryl) Series Masterlist

Despite all odds and against all logic, I managed to feel even worse the next morning. I couldn’t find a single body part that didn’t hurt, though my shoulder was certainly the worst of the pains. I had every intention of falling back asleep and letting unconsciousness chase away the violent complaining of my body.

But I’ve never been that lucky.

Glenn banged the door open and strode in, oblivious to my discomfort. “Gooood morning!” He called cheerfully, flopping down on the end of the couch and jolting me roughly. I dragged myself into a sitting position with my good arm and shot him the bird. He just laughed and held up a paper plate with a dramatic flourish. “You’d be so rude to someone kind enough to bring you breakfast in bed? Shame. Guess I’ll have to eat this myself.” He grabbed the fork and lifted a bite of rehydrated scrambled eggs to his mouth.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I said quickly, reaching for the plate. He replaced the fork and handed it over willingly. With an indignant huff, I shifted my grip on the fork so I could eat. Figures it’d be my left arm out of commission. My right was awkward from lack of use. “Ruder to try and steal food from a cripple.” He snorted and I grinned at him. It was impossible to stay irritated at Glenn.

“Cripple, my ass. I give it a week before you’re trying to climb trees again, monkey girl.”

I grimaced and looked down at my arm appraisingly. “I don’t know about that. This ain’t the first time I’ve dislocated it. Last time, it took almost a month before I could use it normally.”

“Yeah, but this time you’ve got the proper motivation,” he said cheerfully. I frowned and raised a brow at him. “All the shit you own is up a tree nobody else can climb. Besides.” His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “I bet a certain redneck is gonna be missing your company on the trails. The sooner you get out of that sling, the sooner you get back to hunting.”

Heat rose in my face and I scowled, kicking him the best I could from under a blanket. He didn’t need to know just how… motivating… that idea actually was. Though I didn’t believe him for a minute. Daryl was probably glad to be rid of me. I still couldn’t figure out what had made him so angry yesterday.

As soon as I’d cleared my plate, Glenn stood, slung my backpack over his shoulder, and offered a hand. I frowned at the hand then turned my face up to pout at him. “Where exactly are you wanting me to go and why? I can’t have one day to recover? I did throw myself through a freaking plate-glass window, after all.”

He snorted again and shook his head, taking my hand and dragging me up despite my protests. “You won’t feel any better after laying around. Besides, we’ve gotta sort our finds and spread ‘em around.” He nodded to the plate. “Shane and Dale insisted on passing the food out first thing but we still have a lot to dig through.”

Knowing there was no point in arguing, I let him lead me outside to a chair by the firepit. He dumped my pack out in front of me before settling on the ground beside me and doing the same with his own pack. Something heavy landed in my lap and I looked down to find folded black fabric. Flipping it open revealed a collection of polished throwing knives, complete with a proper whetstone to sharpen them. Buckles and straps were sewn into the fabric so it could be attached to a belt for easy access.

“Happy late birthday, by the way,” Glenn piped up from his seat in the dirt. I stared at him in surprise, holding the present gingerly. Worry tinged his face. “What? Do you not like it? I know you’d been talking about wanting something other than your sword and bow and I thought those seemed like your kinda thing. You don’t have to keep them if you don’t want to. I could find you something else.”

I clutched the bundle to my chest protectively and shook my head. “No, I love it, I just-” I paused for a moment, trying to find the words. “How did you know? I didn’t think I told anyone.”

“Oh, that.” He laughed, looking relieved, and shrugged. “Daryl mentioned it when he came to tell me he was tagging along for the trip. No idea how he knew, though, if you didn’t say anything.” The look on his face made me consider kicking him again, and his face was so much closer to my feet this time.

Instead, I thought back over the last few conversations I’d had with Daryl. I could only think of one instance where I’d mentioned my birthday, but surely he’d been too far away to hear. Hadn’t he?

The thought tickled at the back of my mind while we worked. It hadn’t been a very intensive run, but we’d gotten some good stuff nonetheless. The batteries I’d found were a particular treasure and ended up going to Dale for safekeeping. All the food had been distributed already, although most of it was being saved for dinner.

Shane came over at one point to check our progress and collect the meager amount of ammo we’d managed to find. He gave the rest of the haul a cursory glance and nodded once. “Not bad. Good job, you two. Maybe next time you can even get back in one piece.” The comment seemed offhand but there was an edge in his voice that grated on my nerves like a key on piano wire.

I looked up at the former deputy from my seat, doing my best to hide the irritation in my voice. “Sorry? I think I missed that. Say again?”

The superior disdain in his eyes lit my temper like gas to a flame but I dug my nails into my knee and clamped my mouth shut.

“Just seemed like a pretty stupid move to me. Avoidable. We can’t afford to be catering to somebody that can’t contribute and from the sound of it, you’ll be outta action for a while. Just expected a bit more sense from you, that’s all.”

My grip on my knee tightened and I focused on the sharp pain of nails digging into flesh until I was certain I had control of myself. Only then did I answer him, keeping my eyes down so he wouldn’t see how badly I wanted to deck him. I couldn’t stop myself from biting back, though.

“Seems to me you talk an awful lot for somebody that never leaves camp. You join the raiders some time and then you can tell me what is and isn’t avoidable, how about that?”

Silence fell and I looked up to see Shane glaring down at me. For a moment, I worried he might actually hit me, sling or no sling. Then he gave me a poisonous smile and shrugged. “Somebody competent’s gotta stay behind to keep the camp safe.”

I held his gaze and matched his smile, mine sickly sweet in contrast to the fire that blazed behind his eyes. “You’d best go find someone competent then, huh?”

He snarled and opened his mouth to shoot back, breaking off as someone called his name from the other side of camp. He started to turn and then shot one more dangerous look at me. “And you’d best learn to watch that mouth of yours before it gets you into trouble.” With that, he stalked off.

When the red finally faded from my sight, I realized my fingernails were still cutting into my knee. I released my grip and shook my hand out, a shudder running down my spine. Fear was quickly filling the gaps left behind as my anger drained. Shane was dangerous, I knew that much. And I’d just painted a target on my back.

Glenn cleared his throat and I flinched away from the sound. He leaned over to pat my knee, grimacing sympathetically. “You two really hate each other, huh?”

“I made it clear I don’t trust him. He seems to resent having someone around that doesn’t blindly accept his authority.” I stared at the retreating man and took a long, steadying breath. “He’s got quite the temper, doesn’t he? If there’s ever some suspicious accident and I end up dead, odds are he finally snapped.”

Glenn’s startled laughter broke off when he realized I wasn’t joking. He sobered up quickly and shook his head. “If you’re so worried about him, why do you provoke him like that?”

“Ignoring his attempts to be an asshole just encourages him to be even more of an asshole. Granted, my petty comebacks probably won’t do much to change him, but at least I made my stance clear. He can go bug the sheep all he wants since they won’t do anything about it. But I’m no sheep.” I grinned down at Glenn and bared my teeth. “I’m a wolf. And wolves bite back.”

By that evening, my shoulder was burning from the day’s tasks, but I’d managed to work some of the soreness out of the rest of my body. Dinner was a brilliant affair, thanks to the food packets we’d brought back. The air was filled with the smell of cooking beef, mushroom gravy, chicken and dumplings, fajitas, chili, and macaroni and cheese. There were even ice cream sandwiches for dessert, although they tasted more than a little off after being rehydrated after who knew how long. With how much we’d gathered, it probably could’ve lasted a few weeks, but the camp needed a win and that night was a celebration. For the first time in nearly two months, people gorged themselves.

The campfire cast flickering light around the clearing and everyone was in high spirits, staying up late to tell stories and jokes. Eliza’s head was in my lap, the little girl fast asleep despite the noise and energy around the fire, and Amy was laying against my good shoulder, listening to Dale’s overly dramatic tale of werewolves in Vermont. Carol sat at Eliza’s feet with Sophia similarly asleep on her. Carl and Louis, sitting next to their respective mothers, were wide awake and enraptured by Dale’s story. The feeling of community and closeness that seemed to permeate the night warmed me more than the fire only a few feet away.

I almost hated having to return to my lonely little tree at the edge of the clearing. It had always been a comfort, keeping myself so apart, but now it seemed cold. It didn’t help that I couldn’t actually get into the tree anymore. Not until my arm healed. I’d managed to coach Glenn up to the platform to get my stuff, but it didn’t do me much good since I couldn’t fight or hunt one-handed.

Irritation washed through me and I glared at the tree defiantly. This was my place. It was safe, marginally comfortable, and I’d made it myself. I didn’t want to give it up, even for the time it would take to heal. I wanted my place.

The spacing between the branches made for easy enough climbing and several were close enough to the ground. Maybe, just maybe, with a good enough jump…

Gritting my teeth against the pain this would inevitably provoke, even if I succeeded, I backed away a few steps, then ran toward it at full speed. At the last moment, I leapt as high as I could. I caught a branch above my head, the bark digging sharply into my palm, and kicked my legs in an attempt to get a footing on one of the lower branches. My feet slipped, then my hand, and I was flat on my back a moment later, gasping for breath. The canopy of trees above me swam in my vision as I lay there, waiting for the pain to subside. My landing had, naturally, jarred my bad shoulder and aggravated the still-fading soreness in the rest of my body.

Just as my vision steadied itself, a face came into view above me, complete with cropped-blond hair and the shit-eating grin I worked so hard to avoid. The little oxygen I’d managed to suck in left me again in a miserable groan. Merle simply chuckled and folded his arms over his chest.

“Now what kinda greeting is that? You’d think you ain’t happy to see me or somethin’,” he complained, still hovering over me.

“I’m starting to think you Dixons are bad luck charms for me,” I grumbled, shoving myself into a sitting position and holding my shoulder painfully. “What are you even doing over here? You’ve talked to me all of three times since we met and all three consisted of either threats, insults, or both.”

Merle shrugged and offered a hand, lifting a brow in a way that made his too-wide smile feel like a trap. “Came to see for myself what’s got my baby brother’s panties in a bunch. I gotta side with him. You look like shit, girl.”

“Gee, thanks.” I took the offered hand reluctantly and let him pull me to my feet. “Consider me touched by your concern.” His words sank in and I frowned up at him. I hadn’t noticed before, but he was as tall as Daryl. As close as he was standing, I had to tilt my head back to look at him. With Daryl, it was a bit dizzying, but in a good way. With Merle, it was downright uncomfortable. “Wait, what’s wrong with Daryl?”

“Poor boy just ain’t been right since y’all got back. Damn near bit my head off this morning and he’s usually the nice one of the two of us.”

The blood drained from my face, leaving me cold. “He’s that upset?” Anger reared its head, sudden and indignant. “Why the hell is everyone getting so damn worked up over this? Yeah, it was dangerous but what the hell isn’t dangerous anymore? Stepping into the trees to take a piss is dangerous now! I get us out of a dead end, save Daryl and Glenn, never mind that the camp would go to shit without either of them, and everybody wants to come crawl up my ass about it! Ain’t a single thank you from anybody for taking a hit to save the camp’s main food supplier and the best raider we’ve got. No, why would that earn a thank you?”

As soon as the words were out, I clenched my jaw shut and looked away from Merle. As irritated as I was at the camp, I was even more irritated with myself at that moment. I didn’t lose my temper. Ever. And to go off like that in front of Merle Fucking Dixon just made matters worse.

Merle, for his part, clutched his side as he tried and failed to hold back laughter. “Damn girl, look at you go. Here I thought you were just a bland li’l bitch like the rest of the so-called women around here. But you got spunk. Maybe that’s why Baby D let himself get all attached.”

“Attached?” Despite my attempt to make the word a scoff, I could hear the pathetic hope in the word as clearly as Merle could. His grin widened, and he chuckled again.

“My, my, but if this ain’t just too good to be true. I figured you two were bumpin’ uglies out there, but I did not see this comin’. You’re sweet on him, ain'tcha?”

My only answer was a groan mirroring the one I’d made upon seeing him. I turned my back on the redneck’s hooting laughter. I hadn’t had time to process my strange reactions to Daryl on my own and now this ridiculous man-child was making a joke of it. But of course he was. With my luck, where else could this conversation possibly have gone?

“That’s just too good. Guess it makes sense, in a way. Y’all have been practically joined at the hip since that first huntin’ trip. Looks like even the end of the world can’t fend off puppy love.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” I snapped, turning back to him with a scowl. “I swear, you’re more obnoxious than Shane, and that’s a hell of an accomplishment.”

He huffed and put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Here I am just tryin’ to be a good big brother and you gotta come at me like that. I don’t know what he sees in you.” His smile faded and he turned serious, even a bit menacing. “That said, I’m gonna say this once. My brother ain’t the warm-fuzzy type but he actually likes you for some reason. I don’t give a damn what you think that move in Atlanta meant, it bothered him. So you’re gonna get off your ass and go apologize.”

He stepped closer and set a hand on my shoulder, harmless but for the edge in his voice. “Daryl and I got each other, and that’s all we need. Now he’s got it in his head that y’all are partners or whatever, so I’m gonna make myself very clear. If you’re screwin’ around with him, I’ll make going through that window feel like a gentle breeze, you get me?”

A storm of emotions fought for dominance, each wanting a say in how I responded to the threat. Rage, hope, confusion, flattery, and hurt all wove together until I nearly went numb from the force of it. In the end, I shoved them all to the side and held Merle’s gaze steadily.

“I don’t know what Daryl has or hasn’t said, but nothing’s happened between us. If something were to happen, seems like it would be between him and me. That said, I can promise you I’m not screwing around with him. Daryl is… He’s a unique guy and I do care about him. I trust him, which ain’t an easy thing to come by these days. I never meant to upset him but I think we both know if I went and apologized to him, he’d just take offense. I will talk to him, though.”

From the furrow in Merle’s brow, I figured he was expecting an argument. He’d seen a flash of my temper now and I knew he wouldn’t soon give up trying to drag it out again. Which was why I made sure to lock it away before opening my mouth. Without the drama he’d been hoping to provoke, Merle seemed to deflate slightly, like a child disappointed that a toy didn’t behave the way he expected it to.

Trying to save face, he puffed himself back up and nodded sharply. “Good. That’s ‘bout all I needed to say.” He gave another nod and started away, pausing a few feet away and calling back over his shoulder. “And I wouldn’t try climbin’ that tree again. You’re liable to pop that shoulder out again and won’t nobody be around to help ya way over here.”

With that, he was gone and I collapsed against my tree with a heavy sigh. The whole conversation felt like a bad trip and the thought of trying to process everything I’d just learned made me tired. If I was being honest, I didn’t actually dislike Merle. Compared to certain other men in camp, namely Deputy Dick and Carol’s peach of a husband, Ed, he wasn’t actually all that bad. Abrasive, sure. Racist and misogynistic, definitely. Obnoxious, petty, childish, manipulative. All these things and more could describe the man. But if he had one shining point, one good trait to balance the negative, it was how he felt about Daryl. He was an asshole, there was no argument there. But he was also a damn good brother.

While I threw a sheet over a tree limb and tacked it down to create a makeshift tent - I’d give up the thought of getting back up in my tree - I did think about one thing Merle said. Most of the thinking I’d resolved to save for the morning, but one point he’d made continued to loop in my mind. I was sure I’d be analyzing and overanalyzing the words until they lost meaning, but for the moment, the meaning was clear and blazing like a beacon against the night.

Daryl… liked me?

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl x oc #daryl x nic #oc fanfiction #oc x canon #southern comfort

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forebodingprophet · 9 months

Text

Moirai || Clotho C4P1

“Shit, it got away,” Minoru spat as he went to collect the unconscious Ofthalmós.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you were halfway decent at your job, fuckwit,” Roul spat. “Having to do this twice in one day is not my idea of fun, but 3 out of 4 will have to do. After all, the main prize is this guy. That thing wouldn’t have kept anyways if it can teleport,” he cackled, hefting Théo as Minoru handed the man over. “He doesn’t look like he has any powers, but he’ll still fetch quite the pretty penny. Enough to offset the cost of raising the other two and losing that egg at least.”

“After all the effort we put in though, it’s such a waste.”

“Wouldn’t have needed to be an issue if you’d done what I told you and raised him up the way they said to.”

“And we wouldn’t have needed to sell him if you hadn’t jumped the gun,” Minoru growled. Raoul scoffed. “You and I both know that raising him to be one of us never would have worked. That house would have dug it out of him one way or another, and it’d have been a lost cause. And even with this plan, it was a crapshoot at best. We got lucky when he managed to snag the young patriarch, and you ruined it by throwing a fuss over a children’s fight.”

“Hey. Don’t forget I’m the one in charge here,” Raoul spat.�� “Yeah, we lucked out that the holy brat himself came to do the investigation, but the whole thing was too delicate to leave to some kid. I’ll just be glad to finally be rid of him. I always thought it was a dumb idea.”

“You’re not the one that had to play dad for 12 years,” Minoru hissed. “And all we had to do was get him to bring the kid back to the house just once, and we’d be good. Kids fight all the fucking time. If you hadn’t taken him outta the picture, catching the other one probably would have gone a lot easier!”

“As if! I don’t know what kind of idealistic scenario you were imagining, but that guy had no interest in coming into the house. I doubt that brat would have made the situation any easier. And I still did a better job in the last month than you did in those 12 years!”

Minoru scoffed. The man hadn’t lifted a finger in the month or so they’d been there. He hadn’t even spoken to the boy.

“I swear, I don’t know why they keep sticking me with fuck ups like you.” Raoul opened a panel in the floor before dropping Théo inside and shoving him in next to Hikaze and Itsu so the panel would close properly.

Minoru scoffed but didn’t bother trying to argue. This man wasn’t the type who would accept anything but total agreement. This was all way too much trouble. They’d just gotten here a month ago, and now they had to move again. He’d been excited when he first got this assignment, but now he wanted nothing to do with it, even if the payout was supposed to be fantastic. It was too much of a long game.

“Now help me pick up the rest of ‘em,” Roul ordered. “We can’t have it lookin’ like something actually went down. Damn thing’s useful in the moment, but I’m not using it outside again.”

“It’ll alter their memories and perception though, so what does it matter if they all wake up in the street?” Minoru grumbled, trudging back outside.

“Fucking idiot,” Roul spat under his breath. “We still gotta clear out. It’s going to be at least a day. We can’t have anyone realizing that something’s up before we take off. Not to mention, the holy brat himself will probably be the one doing the investigating again. If anything is even remotely off, we’ll be in trouble! The organization’s managed to stay under their radar all these years because of this thing. We can’t let those bastards catch onto us.”

Minoru’s eyes drifted to the pocket the creature was being kept in. The spheres were only good for a single-use, but they were effective every time. To make them even more convenient, only certain people could see them, although he wasn’t entirely sure of the requirement. However, they were never given to someone as low on the ladder as Minoru, so he had no idea how to even use one.

“Dammit, the girls get the easy job while we have to clean everything up before we can leave,” Minoru grumbled, picking up one of the townspeople by their arms and dragging them into their house. “Hurry up! We don’t have long before someone comes looking for him!”

◊◊◊

The first thing Hikaze registered was a profound aching that covered almost his entire body. His back was especially bad, but his shoulders and arms clearly didn’t like anything about the way he was laying. His stomach and ribs were also in some pretty intense pain. He recognized the clattering of wooden wheels and the dusty smell of a wagon, but couldn’t immediately remember how he’d gotten there. The carriage went over a bump, knocking him a few centimeters into the air before gravity mercilessly brought him back down, slamming his head, hip, and shoulder into the hard wood and making him cry out. He moved to sit up only to realize he was restrained. No wonder his shoulders hurt. His feet were bound too. Hikaze groaned as the memories came back. Right, he’d been beaten within an inch of his life by his uncle, but he couldn’t remember anything after that. Did his family decide to move? He started looking around, trying to find Itsu, but all he saw were unlabeled boxes and bags. What caught his attention, however, was the sight of another person, laid on his side with his semi-long black hair fallen over part of his olive-tanned face.

“Théo?” Hikaze asked weakly.

“Good morning, Hikaze,” the man replied, in his usual polite tone.

“Why are you-”

“I came to deliver the young master’s pay for you. They, unfortunately, got the better of me.”

Hikaze grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, given that you’re also tied up here, unless it’s some elaborate ploy to earn my trust-”

“Never!” Hikaze cut in, looking genuinely horrified.

“-it’s not your fault,” Théo replied, smiling reassuringly. “But we should probably be quiet. If they know we’re up, they may come to check on us.”

Hikaze felt his heart stop for a moment and nodded carefully. Then, as if to further cement that fact, the tarp at the back of the carriage pulled aside. Hikaze instinctively closed his eyes as soon as the light hit him, but his breathing wavered. He hadn’t been able to get a good look, but the adrenaline rushing through him made even the clacking of the wooden wheels beneath him sound muted. Heavy footsteps fell between them, and while he couldn’t see it, Hikaze could feel their owner shifting to stare down at him.

“You got a shit poker face, boy,” came the gruff voice of his uncle before Hikaze felt himself launched into the side of the wagon. Having taken another kick to the stomach, his eyes shot open, and he gasped for air, trying to get his bearings but struggling since his hands were bound. “Don’t try to play dead on me.”

“Well, I wasn’t awake before,” Hikaze grunted out with a cracking voice, “but I am now. Should you really be manhandling the merchandise?”

His uncle scoffed. “You still clearly have enough energy to mouth off, so don’t push your luck, or I really will beat you within an inch of your life. And enjoy it.”

Hikaze huffed and blew a lock of hair out of his face.

“Just be quiet and behave yourself. The more I gotta deal with you, the worse you’re gonna get. We’re almost there anyways, so just shut up and stay put.” With that, his uncle turned around and jumped back out of the moving carriage. Hikaze briefly caught a glimpse of two horses, one of which was mounted, and realized escaping wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped.

“You alright?” Théo whispered, re-opening his own eyes.

“Yeah,” Hikaze replied, still sounding a little pained. “I’ll be fine.”

Théo sighed in relief. “I have to say, I was rather surprised when I woke up to see you laying across from me,” Théo added. “I hadn’t been permitted to meet with you, but I never would have expected you to be here.”

“You and me both… Hey, they captured Itsu with me. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

Théo sadly shook his head. “Apologies. I haven’t been up much longer than you have, so I cannot say.” The two of them looked around the carriage as best as they could. It was filled with boxes and chests stacked at most two high, some of which had toppled over, and although Itsu may have been in one of them, it was impossible to tell unless the little soldier started making noise. Hikaze sighed and returned his attention to Théo.

“So what-…” Hikaze hesitated, unsure if he actually wanted to ask this question. “-what’s going to happen?” Even though he knew some of the stuff Esaias had gone through, what few stories Esaias had been willing to tell him had been vague, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going to come next.”

“Well…” Hikaze could tell that Théo was hesitant, and he couldn’t blame the guy. Hikaze was technically 12 years old, but he had the memories and experiences of an adult in his head, so he should be able to handle it better than a normal 12-year-old. ‘Should’ being the key term. “I can’t speak for what will happen to you, but the fact that you haven’t been killed yet despite how beat up you look raises your chances. I’m not saying they won’t kill you, it may have just been inconvenient for them at the time, but given that you haven’t, they may see some further value in you. It means they may be thinking about selling you.” Hikaze pulled a face of disgust, but, in Théo’s eyes, this was a good thing. Having value meant they wouldn’t kill you or do anything that might lower your value before a sale is completed, which insured some degree of safety, although Hikaze’s perceived value wasn’t particularly great right now, but the man wasn’t about to tell him that.. “As long as you hold value, they won’t do anything that might jeopardize their ability to profit from you.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t need a mirror to know I look like shit right now.”

Théo gave a wry laugh. “I can’t deny it. When I first woke, had I not seen that you were bound, I would have thought you dead. With any luck, you may receive some degree of medicinal treatment once we arrive at our destination,” he replied optimistically.

“… And? What about you?”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll be sold off as a male concubine to some noble, I’m sure,” Théo replied. “I don’t have any powers, but it isn’t entirely rare for the gift to skip a generation. There’s no shortage of nobility around the world who covet the house’s powers.”

“That still sounds disgusting,” Hikaze replied, his face pale.

“Which is why we should probably come up with an escape plan,” Théo replied.

“Well, I can tell you one thing we have in our favor: all we got holding us back are ropes,” Hikaze pointed out with a smirk. C’mere, I’ll chew through yours if you chew through mine. Then we can start looking for Itsu.”

“An excellent idea. I was about to suggest the same.”

◊◊◊

To most of the rest of the house, Anastasios was almost the picture of a perfect patriarch; calm, always on the moral high ground, and able to solve most any situation without even letting so much as a hair getting out of place, so to say that his family members were alarmed to see him sprinting through the quiet halls would be an understatement. He all but skidded into the teleportation point and had to pause and lean in the doorway to catch his breath. The woman there, an aníschyros in her late-20s, stared at him like he had two heads.

“Wow, Stasi, did you run anyone over on your way here?” she asked sarcastically.

“Shut up,” he hissed between breaths as he brushed loose hair out of his face. “Just tell me what’s going on. Why is Skirí here, but not Théodore?”

“Beats me,” she replied, exasperated. “Skirí can’t communicate telepathically yet, so I haven’t been able to learn anything in the ten minutes it’s been since I sent you the messenger. All I can tell is that she’s pretty shaken.”

Anastasios looked over at the Espurr in front of her who was holding out her little paws as she walked towards him on unsteady legs. First things first, Anastasios had to figure out what’d happened. He crouched down on the floor, reaching forward and scooping the furry thing into his hands. Skirí had been with Théo since not long after Théo had become Anastsios’ attendant, so she and Théo had gotten incredibly close. She’d never been able to communicate telepathically, but that had never been a problem… until now.

“Skirí, where’s Théo? What happened?”

The Espurr squeaked and mewled pitifully, but, unfortunately, Anastasios couldn’t get anything out of her other than that she was scared and confused.

“Celia?” The Darkrai rose out of Anastasios’ shadow and took the small Pokemon in his hands. The Espurr mewed at her for several moments, and then Esaias set her down.

“It would appear that Théodore has been abducted. Unfortunately, Skirí’s memory of the incident is somewhat hazy. All she remembers is that something was called out and struck everyone present with debilitating fear. Whatever it is can also tamper with memories, but Théodore gave her the order to run before it could fully affect her. She has some pieces missing, but she does remember that Hikaze’s family is involved.”

Anastasios was struck with a strong sense of dread. Now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he knew that someone was going around abducting members of House Ofthalmós, and, to make matters worse, they’d taken his attendant. Théo was privy to a number of classified pieces of information about how the house ran itself, including information about where family outside the house was located and, of course, what times Celia left the house unguarded. Being Anastasios’ attendant gave him far more value than simply being from House Ofthalmós. He had to find him before they realized that or it wouldn’t just be Théo in danger, but the whole house.

“… Did you see Hikaze?” Anastasios asked, hesitating. The name tasted like pith in his mouth. Skirí chirped, and Celia shook her head.

“She doesn’t remember seeing him. She remembers being told that they couldn’t meet with him. They said he wouldn’t leave his room, but something about it felt off.”

Anastasios knitted his brows. Hikaze must’ve left with Itsu on his own journey without talking to his family. For now, Anastasios needed to think out a new plan of action.

“For now, I’m going into town. Skirí, I’d appreciate you taking me there.”

The Espurr hesitated, chirping quietly. She was obviously terrified, and it’d be cruel of him to force her to go back, but, without her, the trip would take hours, and he didn’t have time for that. Finally, Skirí nodded,, and Celia handed her over to Anastasios.

“I promise, I’m going to find who took Théo,” Anastasios assured her before turning to the other Ofthalmós in the room. “Cosíma, if I’m not back by dinner, assume something has happened.”

“Uhhhh… don’t think our Patriarch will be happy with his heir going off on his own like that,” the woman pointed out.

“Well papu can suck it!” Anastasios spat. At that moment, the messenger Cosíma had sent to him finally arrived, breathing heavily and carrying Fotiálos who vigorously wiggled about in his arms, trying to get to Anastasios. Apparently, when Anastsios took off, the small flame soldier had tried to follow after him but couldn’t keep up. Everything about him screamed ‘Take me too!’ Finally, the person holding him let go, and he darted over to Anastasios’ side.

Celia shook her head. “The training regimen you’re used to is complete,” she said to a confused Fotiálos. “We are not going to see your brother and his trainer.” Fotiálos looked up at Anastasios. Until now, every day had been spent with Hikaze and Itsu from the day he’d hatched. Perhaps that had been a mistake. However, at the time, even Anastasios believed that they would all be going on a journey together. The fact that such a thing would no longer come to pass made his chest clench. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been looking forward to it more than he let on. But he’d made a mistake in how he handled the issue of Hikaze, and now, no doubt, the boy would want nothing to do with him. He needed to distance himself from anything and everything to do with his former best friend. No matter how much that may hurt. What he was doing now was more important. But the small voice of Esaias inside of him said that there was no way that Kazuya would abandon Esaias over something like this, and that went the same for Hikaze. If he just apologized properly-

Anastasios bent down again and patted the soldier on the head. “We won’t be seeing them again,” Anastasios told him, trying his best to keep a neutral face. “Hikaze and Itsu have left.”

Fotiálos snorted in indignance. ‘Why would they leave? We were all supposed to go together.’

“That’s just how it turned out.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell him that they left because Hikaze was rightfully angry with him. “We’ll be on our own from here, but right now there’s a different problem. I’m going to investigate, so you have to stay here.”

“Bring him along. Was such a thing not the point of all that training he did?” Celia pointed out.

“True. I don’t expect a battle this time, however-” He hadn’t exactly expected a battle last time either, and even if he took Skirí, she wasn’t equipped to handle battle. He glanced down at the small cat in his hands who still seemed to be working up her courage on whether or not to come. “Yes, you’ll come along too, Fotiálos. Does that help, Skirí?”

Skirí hesitated but then nodded. She would take them.

“Good. Let’s hurry. The sooner we investigate, the sooner we can catch up.”

#swearing tw #Anastasios #Hikaze #Celia #Return of the Progenitor || Sun!Verse #Moirai || Clotho #Clotho || Chapter 4 #((Do I need to tag human trafficking? No; genuine question: anyone here triggered by that because that's a running thing on this blog.))

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s-brant · 3 years

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Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

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

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #i'm gonna miss these dorks #🥺#I love how he tries to break up with her and she’s like ‘no❤️’#also totally do not put on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift during the childhood flashbacks unless u wanna cry #cause I did and my sensitive ass was crying #that song is about John B and JJ okay #it just is

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andvys · 3 years

Text

Longing (part 8)

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, nightmares

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

“(Y/n)?”

“(Y/n) can you hear me?”

“Please wake up! I can’t lose you too!”

“Her pulse is weak.”

You heard voices but it sounded like you were underwater, you couldn’t open your eyes. Everything seemed so heavy.

“Come on (y/n) please!” Ellie screamed, sobbing.

Holding your head in her lap, brushing hair out of your face. She didn’t know what to do, Joel is dead and you seemed close to death as well. She couldn’t lose you too. Ellie felt overwhelmed by everything, having witnessed the murder of Joel and now you wouldn’t wake up. After the man smashed your head against the wall and the way you fell down she wasn’t sure if you’d wake up at all.

Poor Tommy had to wake up to see his brother laying dead on the floor and now he had to collect his body off the floor to bring him back home, so he could be buried. Ellie watched how Tommy and Jesse carried Joel away, feeling tears running down her face she looked back down at you.

“Ellie?” You whispered weakly, trying to open your eyes.

“I’m here (y/n).” Ellie said, relieved that you woke up.

“I’m sorry, Ellie.” You said, letting a tear fall.

“It’s my faul-.” You said, closing your eyes, feeling lightheaded again.

“No (y/n), hey! Don’t close your eyes!” She begged you, touching your face.

“Ellie come on, we gotta go.” Jesse said, coming up in front of you to take you.

“She woke up but I think she’s unconscious again.” Ellie said, wiping her tears away.

“Come on, I got her.” Jesse said, moving down he grabbed you from her arms, carrying you to your horse.

Ellie stood back for a second, looking at the ground where Joel was laying just a few minutes ago, in his own pool of blood. Ellie couldn’t bare this pain, she started sobbing quietly.

“I’m sorry Joel.” Ellie whispered, before leaving the room.

Jesse put you on top of your horse, letting your form slump over slightly. The back of your head was bleeding and you seemed to have gotten a few punches in your face as well. Jesse felt bad that he hasn’t gotten there earlier, he has never seen you this way before.

Ellie came out of the room, seeing your unconscious form on your horse and Joel’s dead body on his horse. Not being able to look at Joel any longer, she went over to Shimmer.

No one said anything, Jesse got on top of his horse, grabbing the reins of Helios he started guiding your horse back. Tommy did the same with Joel’s horse. Ellie and Dina right behind them. Dina kept glancing at Ellie and you in concern, not knowing if she should say anything or if she should stay quiet.

Waking up again, you were on your horse. Looking beside you, you saw Joel’s dead body on his horse, Tommy guiding his horse back home. You could feel tears in your eyes at the sight of Joel. You couldn’t just go back home and let his killers go. Suddenly sitting up on your horse, your head started spinning but you kept yourself up. “I have to-“

“Whoa (y/n), take it easy.” Jesse said, halting his horse. Everyone else looked over to you.

“(Y/n)!” Ellie called out, getting off her horse she walked towards you.

“I have to go back.” You said, looking around, your friends looking at you in concern.

“I have to- I have.”

“Kid don’t make it harder than it already is, we’re going home.” Tommy said.

“I- we can’t just let them go!” You said, looking around bewildered.

“They’re not getting away with this but we have to go home first.” Ellie said, she was barely holding herself together but she had to stay strong.

“I-“ “you have a concussion (y/n), you can’t just go after them now.” Jesse said.

Nodding your head you looked down. Ellie looked at you one last time before getting back on top of shimmer.

Arriving back home in Jackson, Maria and the guards rushed over to Tommy, gasping at the sight of Joel’s dead body. You couldn’t stay, you would start crying again. Getting off your horse, you almost collapsed if it wasn’t for Jesse holding you up.

“Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary.” He said.

Looking back at Joel one last time, you started walking away.

“Alright, you definitely have a concussion. You need to rest as much as possible, your head is gonna hurt for a while. I’ll give you some pain killers but like I already said, you need to rest!” The doctor ordered but you weren’t even listening, you were just thinking about Joel.

Jesse stood back, leaning against the wall, he looked at you in concern. He noticed you weren’t listening to what the doctor said.

“Alright thank you doc, I’ll bring her home now.” Jesse said, walking towards you.

The doctor nodded his head, giving Jesse the pain killers. “You make sure that she rests, young man.” He said.

“I will.” He said “come on (y/n).”

Ellie waited for you in front of your house already, you didn’t want to see her right now. You couldn’t look at her not when you felt like it was your fault that Joel died.

“Hey I got it from here, Jesse.” Ellie said, coming up next you.

“Alright, here some painkillers.” He said, giving the bottle of pills to Ellie. “She needs to rest.”

Ellie nodded looking at you she noticed you were avoiding her eyes.

“Bye guys.” Jesse said, before leaving.

Opening your door you went inside, shutting the door and locking it, Ellie took of her jacket and helped you out of yours.

“You can go home, Ellie.” You said, your voice still weak.

“I’m not leaving you and I- I don’t want to be alone right now.” Ellie said.

“You shouldn’t be with me.” You said, feeling yourself tear up again, you sat down on your bed.

“I want to be with you.” She said, sitting down next to you.

Sighing you looked down, nodding. You knew that she would hate you if she found out that you saved Abby but you wanted to be with her one last time before she would shut you out forever.

“I’m so sorry Ellie.” You said, looking at her you noticed she had bruises too. You didn’t even notice them earlier when you were avoiding looking at her face. Touching her cheek, you ran your thumb over the bruise on her face. Closing her eyes, she started crying silently. “Come here.” You said, pulling her into you. She immediately latched on to you, hugging you tightly, she started sobbing.

You held her, crying with her. You didn’t even know what you were feeling in this moment. You felt every emotion but you also felt numb. You felt like you were missing a big piece, one that could never be replaced.

Laying down with Ellie, you held her in your arms, with her head on your chest. She was still crying, you were running your fingers through her hair.

After a while she fell asleep, you still held her tightly not wanting to let her go. Single tears escaped your eyes, looking up at the ceiling, you knew that this was probably the last time you would hold her. Your little romance seemed to be short lived, she would go back to hating you once she finds out what you did.

You didn’t sleep at all that night, you spent the night thinking about Joel, holding Ellie in your arms you knew you wouldn’t see her for a while and you didn’t even know if you’d come back alive. You wanted to spent the rest of your few hours in Jackson with her, even if she was asleep.

Looking at her, you allowed yourself to admire her for a while. Ellie lost him, she lost the man who was like a father to her, you’d have to stay strong for her. You knew what you had to do. You promised yourself that you would go after them, you’d kill everyone of them and leave Abby for last. She was going to suffer the way she made Ellie and you suffer.

Getting up from under her, you made sure you didn’t wake her up. Getting out of bed, you walked over to your backpack, putting some stuff in that you would need, you grabbed your gun holster putting it on your leg, getting your jacket on, you stuffed your swords into your backpack and grabbed a few water bottles.

You went over to Ellie, looking at her one last time, brushing some hair out of her face, you leaned in kissing her forehead before you turned around, you wrote a quick letter to Ellie and left.

Walking past Joel’s house, you looked at his porch. Thinking about how just a few days ago you were sitting there with him, drinking coffee and talking not knowing that it was the last time.

Breaking into the armory was not something you thought you’d ever have to do but you didn’t have the keys and you needed more guns if you wanted to go after the group. Ellie told you they were from Seattle, you didn’t even pick up on that but Abby had a patch on her sleeve that said W.L.F, they were probably something like the fireflies and you hated the fireflies.

After you grabbed some more weapons you went over to the stables, getting your horse out, you knew an older man named Darren was on guard duty today and he had the tendency to fall asleep, usually you would get angry at him for falling asleep while he had to look out for any danger coming close to Jackson but today you were relieved. This would make your escape easier.

Walking over to the gate, you opened it just enough so you and Helios could fit through it. After you got out, you shut the gate again. Getting on top of Helios you kicked your heels against him, making him speed off into the woods.

The next few days would be difficult for you. The concussion was definitely going to be a problem. You felt tired and a little lightheaded. The guy that smashed your head against the wall did a good job at making sure that you stayed down, you were looking forward to seeing him again.

You were riding for hours now, it must’ve been around noon now. You were thinking about Ellie, she must’ve been up by now. You knew as soon as she would find your letter she would run to Tommy and Maria begging them to let her go after you or join you, you knew she wanted the wlf’s dead as much as you did.

Ellie woke up to an empty bed, she didn’t think anything of it at first, thinking you were in the bathroom or something until she saw a piece of paper with her name written on it laying on the bedside table. Taking it in her hand, she turned it around, reading it slowly. Eyes widening at the mention of you going after the W.L.F’s.

“Shit.” Getting up from the bed, she quickly put on her shoes, grabbing her coat she left your place. Running over to Maria’s house, she saw her and Tommy walking out of their house.

“Maria! Tommy!” Ellie called out, running towards them, almost crashing in to them.

“Hey Ellie, slow down.” Maria said, putting her hands on Ellie’s shoulders.

“It’s (y/n)!” She said, out of breath.

“What’s wrong with (y/n)? She okay?” Tommy asked, looking at her in concern.

“Yes I- no.. I don’t know. She’s gone.” She said. “She went after them.” Giving them the letter. Maria and Tommy glanced at each other before taking the letter to read it.

“Maria!” A man yelled, running towards them.

“Someone broke into the armory, a few weapons are missing and a horse is gone.” The man said, trying to catch his breath.

Tommy ran a hand down his face. “We’ll deal with it right away, Rafe.” Maria said.

“But-“ “I said we’ll deal with it.” She repeated sternly.

Nodding his head, the man left.

“That was (y/n).” Ellie said.

“We know.” Tommy said.

“I’m going after her.” Ellie said, looking at them.

“Like hell you will.” Maria argued “go home Ellie.”

Ellie looked at Tommy. He must be considering going after them as well, they killed his brother after all. He looked down at her “we’ll talk about it once we buried Joel, Ellie.” He said. “Until then just stay put, (y/n) is a tough kid, nothing will happen to her out there. We’ll catch up to her before she arrives in Seattle alright?”

Nodding her head, Ellie turned around going home. She’d stay for Joel’s funeral but after that she would go after you and Joel’s killers.

It was getting dark out, you’d have to set up camp soon. You wondered if they buried Joel already. You wanted to be there but you felt like you didn’t deserve being a part of his funeral not when you were the one who saved his killer.

How ironic, saving her lead to Joel being killed. You wished you could turn back time, you would have never helped her, you would let the infected kill her but it was too late and Joel was dead because of you.

You were riding through a small town, looking for a place to set up camp. The streets were empty and quiet, no signs of infected. A small house with an open garage catched your eye. Getting off Helios, you led him towards it. Leaving him there you went inside to check out the house, making sure that no infected were inside. After you secured the place you went back into the garage and closed the gate.

“Alright helios, looks like we’ll stay here for the night.” You said, patting him.

Going back inside you left the door to the garage open, sitting down on the couch in the living room, you put your head in your hands. Your mind was racing, all sorts of thoughts plaguing your head. Laying back down, you looked up at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep. You needed some rest, especially if you planned on going after a whole group and who knew how much more people they had back at their base. Closing your eyes, you started falling asleep slowly.

“I was wrong about you (y/n).” You recognized this voice but you didn’t know where it was coming from.

“You made it far but at what cost?” Turning around you still couldn’t see him.

“You lost the only person that cared about you because of your mistake.” Walking through the hallway, you opened a door to see if he was in there.

“I always told you, you can’t defend yourself. I was wrong. You keep getting out of bad situations without an issue but it seems like protecting yourself isn’t very important to you anyways not as much protecting others is and yet you failed. You failed him.” The voice was getting closer now you turned around to see him standing there. Your father.

“You killed your own father and now you killed the man you came to see as a father.” He said, chuckling.

“I didn’t kill you.”

“No you just left me to die, same thing.” He said, shrugging.

“What do you want from me?!” You yelled at him, feeling tears build up in your eyes.

“I want you to understand what you are.”

“What I am?”

“You’re a monster, everywhere you go people die.”

“No.” You whispered, shaking your head.

“Your mother.”

“No, stop.”

“Me.”

“You did it yourself.”

“The man you killed.”

“He deserved it, he was bad.”

“Joel.” Your father said, coming closer to you.

“Don’t say his name!” You screamed at him, pushing him away but he was gone suddenly.

“What the-“ turning around you saw someone else standing there. Eyes widening at him standing there.

“Joel?” You whispered, a tear slipping down your face. He was bleeding, blood running down his face from the open wound on his head.

“It’s your fault.” He said, angrily, walking towards you.

“Joel.” You sobbed, walking backwards.

“All of it! You killed me and you’re gonna kill Ellie as well!” He screamed at you

“No please stop!” You begged, crying.

He pulled out a gun pointing it at you, pulling the trigger.

“NO!” You screamed out, gasping for air. You sat up on the couch. Looking around the room, breathing heavily, you realized it was just a nightmare.

“Fuck.” You whispered, clutching your chest, trying to calm down. You noticed tears were streaming down your face.

You already thought that it was your fault that Joel died, hearing him say it himself put you into even more pain, even though you knew that it was just a nightmare.

Could you ever forgive yourself?

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams #tlou ellie #tlou imagines

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whumperooni · 3 years

Text

Good Girl This Year

Pairing: Fatgum x Reader

Tags/Warnings: public fingering, oral, unprotected sex, Lite daddy kink, praise, size kink

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Yes I know it’s after Christmas and no I don’t care;;;;;

“Alright, just one more photo and then Santa needs a break!”

There’s a collective whine that fills the room, but Fatgum just laughs at it- grins at the pink cheeked people crowded around him with drinks in their hands and joy in their eyes.

A Christmas party was a good idea- he’ll have to thank Kirishima again for suggesting it.

Said intern leads someone past the velvet rope and up to him- a cute, wide eyed thing with flushed cheeks and an excited tremble running through them. He doesn’t recognize them- must be a fan or a new sidekick to one of the many heroes at the party- and he grins wider as he pats his lap.

“Come sit on Santa’s lap, darlin’, and tell me what ya want this year.”

The flush on your cheeks deepen, but you hurry forward eagerly- perch yourself up on his lap and look up at him with wonder all over your pretty face.

Ah, you’re a real cutie- dressed up in a sweet little plaid skirt and a sweater, a set of reindeer horns perched on your head. You’re soft against him and small and Fatgum blinks when you press against him just a little, when you bite your lip as you peek up at him shyly.

“Have ya been a good girl this year?” he asks- half teasing as he places a hand on your knee.

“I- I think so, Mr. Fatgum, sir. Um, I mean Santa.”

He laughs- nice and hearty- and you flush even more, curl your little fingers into his coat. He doesn’t chide you for it- how could he when you’re so cute and sweet all perched up on his lap?

(So maybe he’s had a sip or two or three of the “special punch” that Midnight brought. And maybe it’s been a while since he’s had such an adorable little thing sat on his lap.

It’s nice- it’s really nice. And it’s a party! It’s time for him to let loose a little! He can enjoy someone cute and soft and small sitting on his lap, right? Ain’t nothing wrong with it.

And, besides, he’s Santa- he’s supposed to have wide eyed things perched on him.)

“I bet so,” he hums out, giving your knee a little rub. “Ya look like a good girl.”

A soft noise slips from you and it doesn’t escape his notice how your thighs press together and then spread just the tiniest bit wider, how your lashes flutter. A quick glance around the room shows that most everyone is distracted from him and Fatgum doesn’t hesitate more than a second before letting his hand drift up just a bit higher up your leg.

He doesn’t usually do this sort of thing but, hey, it’s a party! Maybe he can slip his number to you or somethin’- maybe he can even invite you to grab a drink for him after the party.

Yeah, that would be nice. A real good way to wind down the night.

“So, anything ya wanna ask Santa for this year, darlin’?”

You squirm on his lap and that has his fingers flexing against your thigh, his cock stirring a little.

(Okay, so maybe it’s been a really long time for him)

“I, um, well...”

You trail off- all sweet and shy- and Fatgum grins down at you, rubs your back lightly before curling his hand around and resting it on your waist. You flush just a little more at the touch, but you press even closer to him- eyes wide but holding a little spark of pleasure and want in them that anybody could see.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he encourages with a grin. “Don’t be shy! You can ask Santa fer anything.”

He wasn’t quite sure that your eyes could manage to get wider, but they do. They widen even more and the softest, cutest little noise leaves you as you bite your lip and squirm in his lap. The motion makes his hand slide up just a little higher along your thigh and neither he nor you move to put it somewhere a bit more appropriate.

“Any- anything?” you ask, voice almost a little squeaky and still so, so shy. You bite your lip again and your legs spread just a bit wider.

It’s Fatgum’s turn to have his eyes widen and he unconsciously leans over you a little, turns you in a subtle move so your parted, pretty legs are a bit more hidden from the others.

You’re bold- bolder than he thought you’d be. Hell, maybe he’ll get your number and take you out to drinks too.

And maybe he’ll even be able to bring you home for the night.

(There’s really no maybe about it- not when you’re blushing and pressing against him, spreading your legs for him even though anyone at the party could see.

You must be one hell of a fan.)

“Anything, sugar,” he tells you- meaning it, hoping that you’ll give into the temptation. “Anything at all.”

You bite your lip and you squirm a bit- lashes fluttering as your hips move against the hard bulge pressing against your soft flesh.

“What if I- what if I want you, Santa?”

Your cheeks flare bright after the bold question and you squeak after, bury your face into his chest with the cutest look of embarrassment all over your face. He can’t help but laugh- nice and hearty and amused- and he grins as you let out a muffled whine against him.

“Well, aren’t you a gutsy thing?” he teases- still grinning, reaching a hand to tilt your pretty, flushed face up toward him. Despite the embarrassment, you still press into his touch and Fatgum’s eyes draw half-shut whenever your lips part and your lashes flutter. “I like it.”

You nuzzle into his palm so shyly whenever he cups your jaw and- like the good girl you are- you allow the tip of his thumb to slip between your lips whenever he traces over them with it.

“Yeah, yer a really good girl,” Fatgum praises. “And you can have me- you can have whatever ya want.”

You tremble against him- a tiny little noise slipping from you- and his heart pounds a little harder when your lips wrap fully around his thumb, when you suckle at the glove clad digit and look up at him with the cutest, sweetest look in your sparkling and adoring eyes.

Shit, you’re just the most precious little thing.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he can’t help but to breathe out. “Feels like I’m the one gettin’ a present.”

You flush and you giggle quietly- his thumb slipping out your mouth when you do. Fatgum hums in approval whenever you smile at him shyly. You peek over you shoulder quickly and Fatgum takes a moment to scan the room too.

Everyone’s too distracted by their own shenanigans- Midnight is entertaining people with karaoke, Kirishima is trying to drag Tamaki into the fray, Present Mic is harassing Eraserhead, and all the other heroes are busy drinking and flirting with each other.

No one’s paying a damn speck of attention to Fatgum or the little cutie he has perched on his lap.

Perfect.

When he looks back at you, your eyes are on him- pleading and so sweet, lit up with a darling desire. You bite your lip as he looks over you and then your hands are reaching for one of his.

They’re so small as they tug off his leather glove- so tiny as they drag his hand between your thighs and up to your mound. You’re so hot there- so warm and soaked through your panties. The tiniest noise leaves you whenever his fingers curl to brush against you and Fatgum has to stifle a groan when your hips give a tiny little rock.

He tugs on your panties- just gently- and a whimper leaves you when his finger traces along your slit, glances over your clit. The quiet whine of “Mr. Fatgum, sir” that you let out is adorable and so is the way your fingers curl into his coat again, how your hips try to buck against his fingers.

“Easy, darlin’,” he mumbles to you. “Be nice and still, little one- lemme give ya what ya want, okay? But ya gotta be quiet and still, alright? Can’t let anyone else catch on. Be good for me, gumdrop.”

A trembling little moan leaves you, but you nod and bite your lip, stay still as he gathers your honeyed juices along his finger. There’s the tiniest jerk of your shoulders whenever he slips the digit inside of you and Fatgum has to bite his cheek when your puffy, silken pussy squeezes around his finger.

Tight and eager- just how he likes ‘em.

“Mm, baby, yer little cunt is so tight,” Fatgum praises- quiet, the words catching with a groan. “Bet ya taste real sweet, too.”

You whimper so, so softly and then squeak when his thumb rubs against your clit, whenever he prods a second finger against your hole.

“D- Da- Mr. Fatgum, sir!”

Oh, shit that whine is so cute. So is your flush, your fluttering lashes, the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip to stifle your little mewls.

He’s pretty sure you almost slipped up, too- almost let yourself call him daddy.

He wishes you had- he would have loved that.

Fatgum slips his second finger into your squishy little cunny and your own claw at him, curl the fabric of his coat tight in your grasp. You have to bury your face against him to hide your gasp and Fatgum has to swallow back a groan when your insides squeeze and flutter around his fingers, when your little body trembles against him.

A look over the top of your bowed head lets Fatgum see that Present Mic is staring over at him- brow cocked high and a smug grin on his face. Fatgum huffs at the man’s leer and curls his arm around you tighter, curls his fingers deep inside of you as he does.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he mumbles to you. “Why don’t we take this to my office?”

Your tiny nod is all he needs for your consent and Fatgum gives your ass a quick little squeeze before slipping his fingers out of you. Your lips tremble with a pout whenever you’re left empty and he grins at the slight glaze in your eyes, how your wet cunt glides over his thigh and makes you breathe in nice and sharp as you scramble off of him.

Your footsteps are unsteady, wobbly and aw, hell, that’s cute as can be.

Everything about you is cute, really- you make him want to scoop you up and smother you with kisses, stuff you full of cum until you’re squealing and oozing it out.

A grin passes over his face as he thinks about that and Fatgum moves to join you, presses his hand to your back and herds you through the party and toward his office.

“Wooo, get it, Fatgum!”

The catcall comes from Kirishima of all people- the boy red cheeked and grinning-and Fatgum can’t help but laugh at it a little even if it makes you squeak and burrow against him, hide your face and embarrassed flush behind your hands.

He’s gonna have to scold his intern- there ain’t no telling how much to drink the kid has snuck.

Ah, he can’t blame him, though- he was young once, too.

Well, cat’s outta the bag, he guesses.

Fatgum cheerily lets his hand wander from your waist down to your hip and he grips it with a hum, propels you forward with a little smack to your rear. The lovetap has you mewling and Fatgum has to stop himself from scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

He ignores a few jeers from the others and he leads you to the office without any delay, nudges you inside and hipchecks the door shut. He takes the time to lock it, but then his focus is solely on you.

It takes two steps to reach you and Fatgum looks down at you with a deep breath- takes in your flushed cheeks and half shut eyes, the excited tremble that ripples through you. You let yourself be pulled against him without a fuss and you’re so sweet with how you whimper, how you curl your fingers into his coat once again and how you melt into his hold.

“Gonna put ya on the desk, darlin’,” he tells you, hands running down to grip under your thighs. A tiny squeak leaves you whenever he lifts you up, but you’re quick to wrap your legs around him- or, try to, at least- and you’re quick to loop your arms around his neck. “Wanna see how ya taste.”

Shyness takes over you again once he plops you down on the desk and Fatgum can’t help but to grin whenever you bite your lip and rub your soft thighs together.

“Yer just the cutest little thing,” he coos to you- hands falling on your knees and spreading them apart. “A real treat fer me.”

You whine, softly, and it’s candy-sweet, filled with embarrassment over being complimented and pleasure over it too.

“Mr. Fatgum...”

A groan leaves him and Fatgum slips down to his knees, spreads your legs even wider and hooks them over his shoulders, pulls you forward until your tiny little cunt is nestled against his face. You whimper whenever he noses against your mound and you whine whenever his tongue glides through your slit, arch your back and knock off his hat as you curl your fingers into his hair whenever he manages to squeeze his fat tongue into your tiny hole.

He had been right- you taste so very good.

“Ah- oh! Mr. Fatgum!”

A grunt leaves him as your hips rock against his face and he coaxes a mewl from you whenever he rubs your clit.

You’re quick to cum as he eats you out and Fatgum groans his approval at the way your honeyed juices coat his face, how your hips twitch against him and jerk as pleasure shudders through you.

He keeps you close even as you try to squirm away- big, strong hands keeping you tight against his face as he eats you from one orgasm to the next. If the party was a little quieter, he’d bet money on everyone being able to hear the way you cry out and shake as he makes you cum again.

Fatgum licks his lips as he pulls his head from you and he wipes off the excess away with his sleeve, stands and looks down at you through half-shut eyes.

You’re gorgeous all laid out on his desk- so flushed and sweet and hazy. There’s just the littlest bit of sweat beaded up around your temples, just the littlest stripe of your soft tummy showing from where your sweater has hiked up. Your chest moves with tiny pants and Fatgum can’t resist leaning down and kissing you, running his hand up your body and pulling your sweater off. You blush when he straightens your headband, but you don’t hide from him- only lean back so he can see you half undressed.

You’re wearing a lacy little number under the sweater- some fancy lookin’ bra all hued in cream and scarlet. It reminds him of a candy cane or peppermint and all of a sudden Fatgum’s mouth is watering, all of a sudden he wants to kneel down again and eat your pretty pussy until the sun comes up.

He wants that, but he wants to do other things too.

Things like taking off your bra and gently teething on your tits and nursing on your cute little breasts until you’re mewling and burying your fingers in his hair again. Things like mouthing along your neck and plunging his digits back into your eager cunt, stretching you open until he thinks you can handle his cock. Things like rutting against your soft thighs and humping against your soaked pussy until you’re writhing and begging, scratching your nails along the velvet of his coat.

“F- fuck- Mr. Fatgum- Sir- Daddy!”

Fatgum groans and he pulls back from you long enough to rip off the sweltering coat, kick away the pants he’s long tugged down.

“Shit, sugar,” he groans out. “Yer so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl.”

The mewl that leaves you is sweeter than syrup, has Fatgum groaning once again.

You graciously- eagerly- part your legs for him when he places his hands to your thighs and Fatgum licks his lips as your back arches, as your head tilts back with a moan.

“Might be a bit of a stretch, baby,” Fatgum murmurs to you, rocking hips and letting his cock tease through your slit. “But a good girl like you can take it- I know ya can.”

The gasp that you let out is adorable, but your whimper is even better.

It’s all trumped, though, whenever you reach your hands down and your little fingers spread your cunt open for him, whenever you look at him through lashes wettened by pleasure and mewl out,

“Please! I can take it! I can be good!”

Fatgum groan and he braces himself over you- his soft belly pressing against yours as he fists his cock and guides it to your soaked little hole.

“Yer already a good girl, darlin’- so fuckin’ good and sweet. Just- just keep bein’ good fer me, okay?”

A whimper and a tiny nod comes from you and you shake as he slowly slides his cock into you.

He almost doesn’t hear your moan, almost doesn’t notice how your hands fall away from yourself just so you can throw a hand back over your head, curl your fingers by your lips- as soon as the tip of his cock slips into you, he gets lost in your wet heat and your gripping need, the eager clenching of your cunt.

You sob, just a little, when he presses further inside and Fatgum hushes you with a kiss, rubs at your clit to try to soothe the sting of the stretch.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts as your puffy insides loosen up just enough to let him rock into you a bit more. “Doin’ so good fer me. Ya like?”

You sniffle and you whimper, tiny hands going to grip his shoulders as you clench around his cock.

“I- I do! Mr. Fatgum, you’re so big! Feels good!”

Well, shit. You’re really something else.

It’s his turn to flush from the praise and Fatgum does in spades- pink gathering along his cheeks and down his chest as he groans and rocks a bit harder, sheathes his cock even deeper inside of you.

He has to remind himself to be careful, to keep from going too fast and hurting you.

It’s a little hard, though, when you mewl and beg for more. It’s hard, though, whenever your nails dig into his back and gets him grunting and groaning. It’s hard, though, whenever you grind your hips back against him and let out sweet, stuttered noises, flutter wet lashes and moan.

“Mr. Fatgum, please! Wanted this for so long! It’s so good! Love it! Want more!”

Shit- fuck.

It’s been a long time for him and it’s been even longer since he’s had such a sweet thing- someone so eager and cute, so obviously enamored with him.

“God, sweetheart,” he groans, “yer so fuckin’ good. Ya gonna come on my cock fer me?”

“Yes! Yes!”

And you do cum on his cock- you squeal and tremble underneath him, dig your nails into his back as your cunt clamps down around his cock like a goddamn vice. Fatgum groans as you whine and his hips jerk again you, stutter as he works his cock deep inside and sheathes himself in your warm, spasming pussy.

The stretch has your eyes widening and threatening to roll back, your back arching up. It’s dramatic and it’s hot and he grunts as he starts fucking you through your pleasure and past it, as he has you going from one orgasm to the next.

You sob and you cling to him and Fatgum groans as your gummy insides pulse around him- your pussy feels like it’s trying to keep inside and he’s more than okay with that; he’d like to stay buried in your snug, warm cunt for forever.

The sounds in the room start to border on obscene- the slap of his balls against your leaking cunt so wet and sharp, your whines and mewls so loud and sweet, his grunts so low and deep. He can’t hear the party going on over all the noises, but that’s okay- that’s more than okay.

Shit, can anyone hear what’s going on?

(He doesn’t think he cares if they can.)

“Darlin’, if ya keep squeezin’ me like that I’m gonna come. Ya want me to come?”

“Yes! Yes! Daddy please come! Wanna make you come! Want you to come!”

How can he refuse such a sweet little thing?

Fatgum groans and he picks up the pace, accidentally smushes you a bit as he presses his lips against yours and grabs onto your soft thighs, grips them tight as he fucks into your squelching pussy.

“Shit, yeah,” he groans. “I’ll come for ya- come for my good girl.”

A sob wracks through you and you grab onto him- desperate and so fucking needy, so tight as he spears his cock into you again and again and again. He gets close- so close- and tries to pull out, but you shake your head frantically- look up at him with blown out eyes and lips parted with a whine, hands scrabbling along his back and legs wrapping around his waist.

“N- No! Inside! Please!” you beg, locking your ankles and pleading so prettily.

Oh, fuck.

Fatgum grunts and he pistons into you- once, twice, three times before he starts to come. A wail of keen leaves you and he growls as he feels your pussy clamp down and spasm around him, as he ruts into you and fills you up to the very brim.

He smothers you in hot, sticky kisses as he humps his cum deep inside of you and they muffle your tired coos and mewls and whimpers- your own lips moving against his in sloppy, tired little movements that would make him grin if he wasn’t so lost in how perfect your warm cunt feels around his softening cock.

When he does slide out, it’s with a wet pop and a groan. The sight of his cum trickling out of your fluttering hole is nothing short of hot to him and your whiny protest is nothing short of cute either.

You twitch on the table- tired and wrecked, sleepy with a dreamy little look on your pretty face- and Fatgum huffs with a tiny little smile, breathes in deep as he tries to catch his breath.

God, this Christmas party was a perfect idea.

A soft little noise slips from you whenever he fixes your panties and Fatgum licks his lips as the fabric immediately grows wet- his oozing seed staining the fabric dark and making it sticky against your cunt.

“Mr. Fatgum...”

He hums at the cute little mumble and moves to help you sit up, helps you pull on the sweater and takes in the tired whine you let out with a grin.

“Ah, sugar, was that a little too much for you?”

You shake your head with a weak little motion and he lets you slump against him, lets you yawn. The smile you give him whenever you tilt your head back to peek up at him is soft and adoring, hazy and sweet.

“No...no- it was perfect. Thank you, Mr. Fatgum, sir...”

It’s so cute that he can’t help but laugh and grin, can’t help but to press a kiss to your flushed cheek.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’. Make sure yer good this year too, yeah?”

A tiny giggle leaves you and you nod- smile growing sweetly as you close your eyes and yawn again.

“I’ll be sure to do so. I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Santa.”

Fatgum snorts and he grins, ruffles your hair.

“I know ya won’t. Yer a good girl after all.”

You grin up at him- tired but pleased- and Fatgum kisses your cheek before helping you off the desk.

Yeah, he’s sure you’re going to be good.

But he might have to check up on you every now and then- just in case.

Grinning at the thought, Fatgum reaches for his clothes and starts to dress again so he can join the party once more.

#fatgum x reader #rooni's shit #fat gum x reader #i couldn't find a good manga panel for him #so i just edited a shitty santa hat on an anime still #murry chreesmuss

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shokobuns · 3 years

Text

feel

in which you meet an old friend while shopping for groceries

pairing: sukuna ryomen x f!reader

genre: smut

word count: 1.3k

warnings: darkish themes, stepcest, ex stepdad!sukuna, mentions of family issues, smut, slight manipulation, degradation, praise, size kink, mentions of f masturbation, daddy kink, dacryphilia, pussy slapping, ass slapping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), slight dumbification, dubcon

five years.

that’s how long since you’ve seen either of them, the last time ending in a screaming match you had desperately been trying to shut out from your mind. but the memories still penetrate through your head from one glance of a face that was unmistakable. his head turns in your direction and you immediately pry your eyes away.

“(y/n)?”

you continued to look through at the assortment of cereal while he eyed you across the aisle. it was wrong, all of it was wrong and you’re afraid, terrified, because you think it’s all going to come back at some point. “(y/n), i know it’s you. don’t be shy, baby girl.”

the nickname takes you off guard, but warmth floods through your chest nonetheless. wrong, wrong, wrong, you desperately repeat to yourself in your head. “hi, sukuna.” you mumble, placing a box of cinnamon toast crunch in your cart and debating on what your next few actions should be. “it’s been awhile, how are you?” he says, easily initiating a conversation that feels natural, as if you two were just old friends.

not father and daughter. stepfather, to be exact.

“i’m fine,” you respond back, unconsciously straightening out your posture, “i gotta get home to make dinner, though. i guess i’ll see you around?”

“don’t worry about that, princess. i can cook for you. just gotta find some ingredients.” he answers back, licking his lips, “wanna know what you’re up to. catching up and shit.” your heart beats fast, just like it would have 5 years ago, and an unsettling feeling finds itself in your tummy. it’s nice to know that he still cares about you, even after all this time. so you nod, letting him back into your life.

you ignore the wandering hands and the lingering touches around the kitchen. you ignore the directions his eyes go when he looks at you. you ignore his licked lips and the feeling of his fingers brushing over bare flesh. it’s all natural, isn’t it? it wasn’t something uncommon when you were, are, his baby girl.

you shudder at the thoughts of your past late night fantasies as you poke at your food. he’s right in front of you, in your closed apartment where you live with no one else, not even your mother.

“how’s mom doing?” your curiosity takes over as you shake away painful memories.

“don’t know. haven’t seen her since that night either, but i heard she got married again.” he replies nonchalantly. you don’t know exactly what brought them together in the first place, but you’ve had to live with them both. you’ve had to stay up at the sound of every disagreement, every argument, every accusation. it was always the irritating yelling from your mom and a calm and collected response you could barely make out from sukuna in the other room.

the table is small and you can sense his hand reaching over to massage the soft flesh of your bare thigh. did you wear these shorts for comfort or appearance? you can’t answer it yourself, but even before, you knew this action wouldn’t be unwelcomed by you and he could tell.

“daddy, i don’t think-”

“shhh,” the sound immediately helps you relax, “just let me take care of my princess, alright?”

you nod as he makes his way under the table, pressing a finger against your clothed cunt and rubbing softly until small moans leave your lips. one hand softly rests on your thigh before pulling down on the waistband of your shorts until they’re at your ankles. he licks his lips at the sight of your bare cunt. “were you planning this, baby?”

he latches his mouth onto your pearl, sucking softly before pulling away once again, “answer me.” he commands. you whine, not knowing how to explain yourself and ready to have his mouth back onto you, but he harshly slaps it instead. the stinging sensation reverberates in your body, making you jolt up and let out a high pitched yelp, but he keeps you pressed in your current position, locking his arms around your thighs.

“no, daddy, i swear! please!” you plead desperately, “it’s like this all the time!”

“who knew you were such a bad liar?” he lays another blow to your glossy cunt, your hole clenching at the stinging sensation, “trying to seduce your stepdad? what kind of slut does that?” he chuckles as tears stream down your face.

“you’re gonna cry now?” he smirks, a finger prodding at your entrance. “too bad. i love it when you cry.”

he skips straight to three fingers and the stretch burns, but he doesn’t stop, instead admiring the way your slick coats his fingers with every pump. “s-slow down,” you squeak out, your hole clenching and unclenching erratically around his digits.

“isn’t this what you wanted, you little brat?” he questions, faux innocence in his tone, “didn’t you want daddy to treat you?” he curls his fingers, his tongue flicking your little clit while you squeeze on the edge of your table. it slightly shakes with every movement, your untouched food still resting on the surface. dinner has been long forgotten because sukuna decided he wanted to skip straight desert.

“fuck, daddy, you feel so good,” you breath out, whimpers spilling from your lips as he finger fucks you. every wet squelch only making his cock throb through his jeans. “thank you daddy, thank you, thank you,” you mindlessly babble, creaming all over his fingers, gushing all over the lower half of his face. the knot in your stomach comes undone and white hot pleasure courses throughout your entire body.

you barely have time to catch your breath before he’s no longer under the table, picking up your body with ease and harshly pressing you against the thin walls of your apartment. your cheek is smushed onto the surface while he pulls down his boxers,

you can’t see anything behind you, but you can feel his fat cockhead rubbing against your drooling cunny, the wet kisses and bites on your neck. your mind is foggy, the only thing you can feel is the intrusion of his length splitting your tiny pussy in half. it’s what you’ve fantasized about since you were eighteen, it was what you finger fucked yourself to late at night when your mom was in a deep sleep.

“daddy, fuck- too big!” you whine out, more hot tears forming at the corner of your eyes. his hands grip your breasts, wet fingers playing with your pebbled nipples as his cock pistoned into you at a ruthless pace. wet noises bounced off the walls of your apartment, remnants of your slick dripped down onto the floor, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. the palm of his hand smacks against the soft skin of your ass, leaving a bright red print just how he liked it.

“too big, huh?” he continues, his tone almost angry sounding, “thought you wanted this, princess? creamin’ all over yourself whenever you thought i was asleep? you were loud, you know.” you squeal when his fingers grip your cheeks, his hot breath on your ear, “but don’t worry about it, baby girl. i’ve been waiting for this, too. love hearin’ your sweet voice.”

the deep sound of his voice has your walls clamping down around him. he lets out a melodic groan at the feeling, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside of you. “squeezin’ so fucking tight around me, fuck!” you knew you couldn’t last any longer, only mindless babbling leaving your lips. your orgasm washes over you in waves, your tiny cunny creaming all over his fat cock as he stills, biting into your shoulder while pumping you full of fresh cum.

“thank you, daddy.”

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scarlettriot · 3 years

Text

When one feels like shit, one writes things to feel better :)

This is based on a very short headcanon I had a little while ago that I've decided to make into a little fic. I hope you enjoy.

Featuring: Mainly Pro Hero Red Riot. Also includes Pro Heroes Dynamight, Chargebolt, Earphone Jack, and Pinky

Y/N: They/Them (Y/H/N: Your Hero Name)

Warnings: Kidnapping (well, not kidnapping exactly, adultnapping), restrained, minor physical injuries, drugged into unconsciousness

HAPPY ENDING THOUGH, I PROMISE!

Summary: You've been captured by villains. Wonderful, right, just how you wanted your Friday to go. Your quirk isn't working thanks to them pumping you full of suppressant drugs. You were actually having a hard time remembering how you were abducted. You're only able to remember being on patrol and something smelling off before passing out. Now, thanks to the drugs, you were having a hard time remaining conscious in this...basement? Warehouse or it could be a factory... Someone would find you, your friends were perfectly capable. You just hoped it'd be before anything worse happened.

When you didn't report in at the specified time and weren't answering their calls, the rest of the heroes at the Alliance Agency grew concerned. Jiro was already pulling up your location on your cell phone while Kaminari searched for the tracker in your suit.

Unfortunately, they both ended up at the same location, a dumpster behind an apartment complex, you were nowhere to be found.

Bakugo and Kirishima, who were also concerned about your whereabouts, took a different approach since neither was too talented at the tech side of things.

Kirishima canvases the immediate area around your phone and tracker, using his easy-going smile and charming personality to coax information out of anyone who was willing to talk to him in the area. Meanwhile, Bakugo played to his own strengths and threatened the low lives of the area.

"Someone said they noticed two guys, 'helping' someone in a hero suit down the street earlier. The description of the person and suit match Y/N." Kirishima could see lights in a few of the windows flickering but no signs of people moving about in the apartments above. He couldn't help but wonder if you were in one of them.

He got a grunt of a response from Bakugo through his earpiece. "Yeah, well, I just persuaded some scum into giving up an abandoned factory location about 10 blocks from here. Says he doesn't know what they're doin' but he's seen people goin' in and out all the time. Seems odd since it's abandoned."

The location pinged on Kirishima's phone. "I'm six blocks away. Meet you there."

The building in question looked like it hadn't been in operation for at least a decade when he arrived but fresh tire tracks him something was definitely going on. Not to mention the building had electricity running to it judging by the lights he could see.

When Bakugo showed up minutes later they decided to enter through a southern entrance that Ashido had pointed out after pulling up blueprints at HQ.

"Most of the electrical usage is centered in that location." She explained, "If you're going to find anything useful, I'm betting it'll be there. Chargebolt and Earphone Jack will meet you as soon as they're done collecting security footage from the suspected abduction sight."

Bakugo scoffed. They were Dynamight and Red Riot, they didn't need any damn backup.

Kirishima broke the lock on the door with a sharp tug rather than letting Bakugo shoot it off with an explosion. "You take downstairs and I'll go up. We stay on coms." Kirishima nodded and started his descent.

There was a single guard with a gun resting on his knee and headphones in his ears making Kirishima's job too easy. Not even bothering to harden his skin, he whacked the back of the guy's head and he crumpled to the floor unconscious.

"Took out two guards and a scientist. Oh, there's a lab up here too."

"One guard taken out. Moving into another room now."

The metal door was locked up tight and the guard had a surprising lack of keys on their person. They could have been close by but Kirishima was impatient. He was aware this would be loud but at least it was efficient.

He hardened an arm and with one, two, slices of his hand diving into the metal he was able to create a hole... and garner attention. A knife broke across his hand and two gunshots were fired from inside the room, doing nothing to him.

"Gonna have to do better than that!" He roared with laughter.

Kirishima ripped the metal wide and stepped through. He wasted no time, grabbing the gun point-blank, bending the barrel upward with a devilish grin before turning on the man with two daggers. A green substance ran off his skin and down onto the blades. It burned slightly when they slashed at him but Kirishima was used to Ashido's acid by now that this was practically child's play!

The other guy came at him with an orange beam of light right from his eyes that managed to break through a bit of his hardened skin. He could feel blood start to trickle down from his forehead. "Now, we're getting somewhere!"

Using his body weight, Kirishima shoved the man with the daggers down to the ground, disarming him quickly, and used his own blades to live into his friend's leg. He watched as the acid melted the fabric and left black burns on the man's skin, nasty stuff. He tired another beam in retaliation but Kirishima dodged it this time.

"I'd love to keep playing around but I'm lookin' for someone." He used one hand to hoist the man up and another to shield his eyes. Instantly, Kirishima's hand started to burn but he held steady. "Do you know where Y/H/N is?" The beam pulsed stronger, "Fine. If you won't help me then I have no use for you." He sat him back on the ground, a harden fisted to the back of the head had him good and knocked out.

"What about you?" Kirishima asked, returning his focus to the dagger man, "Do you know where they are? Your operation is a bust, the least you can do is tell me where my friend is. I might even put in a good word for you if ya do."

He grabbed a discarded metal pipe and the man must have taken it as a threat because he lifted shaky hands that were no longer coated in green. "B-back there with the others."

"Others? Other victims or others of you?"

"Subjects, we have other subjects!"

Rage pulsed in Kirishima's veins but he kept a lid on it. "Right then. Thanks." He bent the pipe around the man's hands and another around his ankles before speaking over the coms again.

"Y/N isn't the only victim. Dynamight, get down here."

He was running to the back of the room when he saw you along with five others. Your wrists had been bound by metal shackles suspended from a beam high on the wall that the tips of your toes were just brushing the concrete floor. You were slumped forward with IVs poked into both arms.

"Y/N?" He calmly approached but you didn't answer. You just hung there like a rag doll.

Kirishima lifted your head in his hands and saw a few cuts on your face that had dried blood still surrounding them but he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady drumming of your heart, shallow, but there. You were alive and that was all he cared about.

"Okay. Gonna stop whatever the hell these are..." He flipped switches on the IVs and continued to talk out loud about his process. "Then gotta get 'em outta you..."

With surprisingly delicate fingers, he pulled the needles from your arms. Stopping the small pools of blood with a few pieces of gauze and tape that someone had been so kind to leave behind.

He then wrapped his left arm snuggly around your body. Holding you against him in a way he hoped didn't hurt you any more than you already were. With his right hand, Kirishima reached up to the shackles just as you started to stir awake.

One side of him was so completely soft and caring, the other hard and brutal, snapping the manacles in a powerful grip and you fell against him completely.

"Whadda hero." His ears glowed pink from the compliment.

"I'm really glad I got you back."

A/N: I know it isn't my best writing by any means but I had to do something to distract myself. Hope you're all doing well <3

#mha #mha y/n #mha fluff #bnha #red riot #eijiro kirishima #kirishima headcanon #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #kirishima fluff

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igigix · 3 years

Note

Omg can you do one where the reader saves rio after Beth shoots him plz?

Thank you for your request! Sorry, it took so long. Enjoy!

Headcanon: Ready Aim Fire

- Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You -

-> 18+ readers only!

-> English is not my native language, so bear with me because there will probably be some grammatical mistakes.

Your phone rings; it’s Rio.

“Hey.” Your voice is soft.

“Hey, Mama. How’s my girl doing?” You can hear him smiling.

“Tired, but I’m finally back home.” The hospital where you work was overwhelmed with patients after a rush-hour crash.

“Did you eat diner?”

“Yes. I almost eat all of the Chicken Tamales. I’m trying to gain as much weight as possible so we can see if you still think I’m beautiful.”

He chuckles, amused.

You were four months pregnant and have already begun to put on weight. Rio, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was delighted by the news. He was present in every step to make sure your pregnancy went as smoothly as possible.

He even suggested that you take it easy at work, but you couldn’t afford it. The hospital needs your assistance. As a surgeon, your position was crucial. So you came up with a solution to reassure him. You’ll take some time off as soon as they find someone to replace you.

“You will be home soon?” You ask, concerned given his line of work. You were anxious about his safety.

“Yes, I have some unfinished business to attend to. Go get some rest. I’ll wake you up when I get home.”

“No, I’ll wait up.” You say through a yawn.

“Nah, sleep. You know I like waking you up.” He whispers.

“Great. Now I’m horny.” You sigh, understanding what he meant.

He laughs.

“Oh, the things I’d do to that pretty mouth of yours….” Your body tingled from the sound of his voice. He then adds, “´I gotta go darlin’. I’ll come back to you soon, yeah?”

“Ok. I love you.”

“Me too, mama,” he replies, ending the call. You go to sleep right after.

You wake up later that night to your phone ringing. Disoriented, Rio is nowhere to be seen; his bedside is empty. You reach for your phone, thinking it’s him who’s calling, but it’s the hospital. You pick up quickly, knowing it’s an emergency.

“Hey Y/N we need you. Gunshot wound, three bullets. The patient is in critical condition.”

“I’m on my way.” You get up and get ready quickly. You try to reach Rio before leaving, but you fall directly on his voicemail. You have a bad feeling, but you attempt to suppress it.

When you arrive in the operating room, you quickly realize it is him. Your heart stops. He is unconscious and handcuffed. You rush to him.

“What the hell is this? Take these off right now!” You scream

“But the officer sai—” The intern tries to explain.

“TAKE THEM OFF! OR I SWEAR TO GOD THE OFFICER WILL BE THE LEAST OF YOUR PROBLEM!”

He responds to your order right away.

You take a big breath and exhale slowly. He needs you now more than ever. You put your urge to break down aside. You focus on your task and do everything you can to save him. Thankfully, his condition has stabilized, and you managed to rescue him.

You find a small box when you collect his personal items after surgery. You open it, and you discover a ring. A choked sob escaped from your lips. He was going to propose.

You’re about to pick up Marcus from school a few days later when you notice he’s not alone. Beth Belond has some nerve to show up. When you get to them. You gently ask Marcus to wait for you in the car.

“Listen Y/N I—“

“Save it! I don’t want to hear it! You’re going to tell me that you didn’t mean to kill him? That three bullets were fired by accident? Seriously? The only reason I’m not stomping the living shit out of you right now is because we are in front of kids. Let me be clear, STAY AWAY FOR RIO, STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!”

───────── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ──────────

- Masterlist -

- Taglist -

@chailymaire @kyliethh @wiseprunecreatorpony @catxo @papiazullll8 @honeycone123 @purpledragon04 @alexissuave @xonickibaby @silverseamoons @iness9993 @princesssymone @0scarstear @ac1dtabl3tz @butterfly-20 @devotedlycrookeddonut @nerds @nerds4life246 @thorsb1tch @brinicole48 @littlebvbie @paletreegooplamp @stoleinvall @rudypankow-whore @vanillaiceyhot @sunday-kindoflove @sycamoregirl1 @namjoonswifey99 @rocketqueen @obviousoasis @lovethatformoi

#rio #rio good girls #rio x reader #rio x you #rio x y/n #rio imagine #good girls nbc

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nineteenninety-six · 3 years

Text

Stray in the Street

TOMMY SHELBY X READER

2.3K Words

She found him unconscious in the street and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she dragged him into her house. It was pouring down with rain and if she left him out there on the street in the rain, she doubted he’d be alive in the morning.

While he wasn’t as heavy as she thought he would be, it was still a hassle to pull him up and drag him to her house. At first, she had thought he was drunk and had collapsed into the street as that wasn’t uncommon for her street but it was until she had dragged him in front of her fireplace and turned the lights of her front room on did she realise that he was far from a drunk.

He had cuts and bruises littered on his face and hands and (Y/N) would bet that there was more underneath his shirt. She left the stranger by the fireplace in hopes that it would dry him off and keep him warm as she collected her first aid kit, a bowl of water and a clean rag, she didn’t know much first aid but she knew enough to clean the cuts out and bandage them.

She didn’t know what to think of the man as she cleaned and disinfected his cuts, he looked vulnerable as he laid unconscious with his head on her lap and (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder what he had gotten into that had left him like that. Maybe he had some unpaid debts or perhaps slept with the wife of a rich and important man but whatever it was, it must have been serious.

(Y/N) was exhausted, she had been up early and had been working all day so all she wanted to do was sleep but she couldn’t with the stranger in her house. He could wake up in a panic, having no clue where the hell he was and she would have to explain but despite all that, she couldn’t resist the pull of sleep and fell asleep on her couch.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) shot up with a gasp and her eyes immediately went to the space in front of the fireplace but it was empty. As she stood up as she tried to listen to see if he was still in the house she felt something fall off her and when she looked down she saw a blanket pooled around her feet, something she most definitely did not fall asleep with.

She bent down to pick it up when she heard shuffling in the kitchen and the blanket was quickly thrown aside in pursuit of the noise. She made her way towards the kitchen with quiet steps and peered around the corner and spotted the stranger at her kitchen table, yesterday's paper in hand with the glass of water beside him. There didn’t seem to be anything nefarious going on with the man so she walked into the kitchen, announcing herself to him.

“I’m surprised to see you up”

Dawn was breaking and (Y/N) could see blues and purples starting to appear in the sky which meant she was asleep for around four hours.

The man flinched in surprise and looked up at her and the first thing (Y/N) noticed was his blue eyes.

“You were asleep when I woke up” The man folded the newspaper up and placed it on the table and (Y/N) could see the way his body flinched in pain whenever he moved beyond his bounds.

“You could have woke me up. You had no issue placing a blanket on me” (Y/N) didn’t know how she was so calm now that the stranger was awake.

“The fire had gone out, you looked cold”

(Y/N) smiled at that before she walked further into the kitchen, “I’ll make us some tea. Are you hungry?”

The man shook his head but (Y/N) was going to make toast for him anyway.

With the toast and the tea on the table, (Y/N) took a seat opposite the man who returned to reading the newspaper, she watched him for a bit before she spoke to him, wanting to know more information.

“You know that’s yesterday’s paper right?” She started off with a soft conversation opener

The man looked at her and shrugged, “I was busy yesterday”

(Y/N) let her eyes run over his cuts and bruises, “I could tell”

The man placed the newspaper down and faced her fully before he asked the question that had been weighing on him since he woke up “Why did you take me in?”

“I thought you were some drunk at first and usually I would have left you there but it was raining and stumbling across a dead body on my way to work isn’t my favourite way to start the day.” (Y/N) told him, “I brought you in and then I saw your cuts so I cleaned them and patched them up”

The man fingered the bandage around his right hand and nodded his thanks towards (Y/N).

“Are you going to tell me how you become unconscious and dumped on the street?”

The mans face instantly screwed up at her question and (Y/N) quickly corrected herself,

“-Or not. You can keep your secrets”

They remained in silence after that, drinking their tea but it didn’t escape (Y/N)’s notice that the man ate the toast she had laid out.

When the clock struck eight, (Y/N) pushed herself away from the table and stood up,

“Look, I’ve got to get ready for work but you’re free to stay here if you want but please don’t burn my house down”

With that (Y/N) disappeared upstairs to get ready for the day and the only reason she had a skip in her step after only having four hours of sleep was because it was Friday.

.•° ✿ °•.

When (Y/N) returned home from work, she expected the man to have left but she found him relaxing on her couch like he owned it, though this time with a glass of whiskey and today’s newspaper, which meant he had definitely gone to the shops.

“You haven’t gone home?”

“You said I could stay”

“I did” (Y/N) sat down next to him, “Though I would appreciate if I knew the name of my stray”

The man’s lips twitched at her nickname for him before he stuck his hand out, “Tommy. Tommy Shelby”

(Y/N) shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m (Y/N).”

(Y/N) sunk into the couch with a tired huff, her long hours were not worth it but she couldn’t pay the bills otherwise.

“Do you know how to cook, Tommy?”

Tommy looked at her from the corner of his eye and shook his head, “I don’t but I know who can”

“Will they be able to cook for me?” (Y/N) was too tired to even make herself a sandwich

“I’m sure they’ll have no problem but first I need a phone and a car”

“I’ve got a phone but I can’t help you with a car”

“That’s fine” Tommy stood up and stretched, “Where are we? Is Small Heath nearby?”

“Small Heath? Yeah, it’s the next town over, maybe a fifteen-minute walk”

“Good, I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make. Where’s your phone?”

(Y/N) pointed at the kitchen and Tommy disappeared. She had no clue where he was going to take her nor what the relevance of Small Heath was but the man interested her and she was keen to find out more.

Tommy returned and raised his eyebrows at her, “You ready?”

“Yup!” (Y/N) jumped up from the couch and picked up her coat and handbag before she followed Tommy out of the house, “Where are we off too?”

“Small Heath first, gotta pick something up but then I’ll take you to where the food is”

(Y/N) nodded and followed him as he walked to Small Heath, the journey was quiet and short but (Y/N) wished she changed out of her heels because her feet were killing her.

When they arrived in Small Heath, Tommy strutted around like he owned the place and add the fact that everyone they walked by including police officers, nodded their head and called him ‘Mr Shelby’, (Y/N) wondered if she was far off by that assumption.

She followed behind him as he made his way down a street called, ‘Watery Lane’ and stopped at the house with a car outside it. He spoke to the man leaning against the house and took a pair of keys from him and had a little conversation before the man retreated back into the house but not before he took a look at her.

Tommy held the keys up at her and motioned for her to get into the car,

“C’mon let’s get going”

(Y/N) cautiously made her way into the car, nervous as she has never ridden in one before but she didn’t want to dawdle and waste time.

“Who’s car is this?” (Y/N) asked as Tommy pulled away from the curb, “And where are we going?”

“Company car and we’re going to Warwickshire”

“Company car?”

“My company”

Now (Y/N) was all the more confused on why he ended up outside of her house. If he owned a company and cars then he couldn’t have been in debt, though it was still a very small possibility.

“Right…”

(Y/N) ended up falling asleep on the journey to wherever Tommy was taking her and was woken up when he gently shook her awake.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, your food is waiting” Tommy whispered as she woke up.

“Fucking hell!” (Y/N) couldn’t help herself when she saw the house in front of her, it was bigger than all the houses on her street put together.

Tommy was already out of the car and heading towards the door so (Y/N) quickly jumped out and followed him, quietly marvelling at the house. Tommy walked into the house and had only taken two steps when was ambushed by a maid.

“Mr Shelby! Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in two days and suddenly we get a call which only tells us to prepare some food” The maid is simultaneously exasperated and worried, “Look, you’ve got all these cuts and-”

“Mary, it’s fine. I’m fine” Tommy cuts her off, “You have no reason to worry”

“Don’t need to worry-” Mary scoffed before she noticed (Y/N) for the first time and a flush came up her neck, embarrassed at being seen that way by a stranger.

“The uh chefs have finished dinner, everything is waiting in the dining room” Mary’s eyes never left her feet.

“Thank you, Mary”

(Y/N) quickly thanked the maid as well before she followed Tommy.

“You have a maid?!”

“Several, actually”

(Y/N) gaped at the man and his wealth, she was rendered speechless by everything that man did.

Tommy pushed open the door to one of the rooms and gestured that she go first, so she did and she found a large table filled with plates of food she had only dreamed of having. They were all extravagant and high quality, something she could never have afforded.

“Take this as a thank you for everything you did”

“I didn’t ask for all of this, I would have been fine with a simple meal”

“You did something stupid, taking a stranger in from the street….but I am thankful for what you did.” Tommy looked shy as he said those words, “Me giving you dinner, is the least I could do to repay you.”

“Well, I’m not complaining” (Y/N) said as she took a seat and pulled the closest dish towards her.

“You did though” Tommy deadpanned.

(Y/N) held up her thumb and index finger and brought them together until there was only a small gap between them, and grinned up at Tommy, “Only slightly though.”

Tommy took a seat opposite her and continued small talk with (Y/N) as she ate the food in front of her. She was a curious woman, snarky yet kind and considerate and he liked her.

“What’s your job?” He asked once she finished.

“Accountant” (Y/N) scowled, “Long hours, underpaid and undervalued, it’s my dream job”

“How about you work for me?”

(Y/N) choked on the water she was drinking, “E-Excuse me?”

“Obviously, I need to see how you work and if you are suitable to work for the company but what do you say?”

“Are you just doing this because of yesterday?” (Y/N) was unsure of where this was coming from.

“You said you were underpaid and undervalued, you won’t be if you work for me”

“What exactly is it you do?” (Y/N) had been curious as to how he got his massive house.

“Shelby Company Limited is in the business of exportation. We export goods from Birmingham around the world, specifically car parts” Tommy drawled as if he was repeating a pitch for rich investors.

“Where’s the office, Small Heath?”

Tommy nodded, “What do you think?”

“What am I getting paid?”

Tommy gave a little smirk, “Above average, I assure you. Plus additional benefits.”

(Y/N) nodded after a moment and stuck her hand out, “You’ve got a deal”

Tommy took her hand and shook it once, as a confirmation of their agreement.

“I’ll pick you up on Monday and take you to the office where you can sign the paperwork.”

“Sounds good but speaking of, how am I supposed to get home tonight?”

Tommy looked at the clock in the room and was surprised at how late it was, “It’s late, you can stay the night, there’s plenty of guest rooms.”

“No shit”

Tommy ignored (Y/N)’s comment, “I’ll have a driver take you home tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“If you’re done here, Mary can show you to your room”

“Absolutely.”

As (Y/N) followed Mary upstairs, she realised she never found out why Tommy was left unconscious outside of her house.

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #x reader #imagines #Peaky Blinders #anyway...#peaky blinders imagines

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eboyhitoshi · 3 years

Text

Rough Night || H. Iwaizumi

Warnings: Swearing, Little bit of smut but it’s not the main focus, secondhand embarrassment

Summary: Iwa’s acting a little off today, wonder why?

Rating: Crack, Smut

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

A/n: Iwa and Reader are in their third year here and are 18

Something was off with Iwaizumi. As his best friend, Oikawa could tell. The dazed look in Iwa's normally concentrated eyes was throwing him off. Whenever someone would call his name, his head normally turned over and he gave them his full attention. But today whenever some tried to get Iwa's attention, he turned his head slowly and listened, though it looked like his mind was somewhere else.

Iwaizumi isn't a clumsy guy. He's very careful of himself and his surroundings. Which is why Oikawa found it extremely strange for him to be stumbling around everywhere and even going as far to fall a few times. Every once and a while he also caught Iwa holding his forehead, leaning into his hand with his eyes shut.

"Iwa-Chan, are you sick?" We're the first words Oikawa said about his findings when he sat down next to the ace for lunch. Iwa shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes focused on his food. Another thing Oikawa noticed. Iwa normally are all of his food, but today he was picking at it, barely eating anything.

"No, I've just got a bit of a headache" he replied quietly. Oikawa quirked a brow at the lack of insult from the brunette. Oikawa hummed, leaning back in his seat as you strolled in with Mattsun and Makki in tow.

"(Y/n)-chan , do you any headache medicine? Iwa-Chan needs some" Oikawa asked you as you approached them. You nodded and sat down to grab some out of your bag. You handed Iwa two pills and he took them gratefully.

"Thanks babe" Iwa mumbled quietly before swallowing the pills.

"Are you gonna be alright for the practice match later?" Mattsun asked, settling in to his designated chair. Iwa nodded slowly, letting his eyes fall shut for a second.

"Should be" He answered. Iwa wasn't normally a boyfriend that was super touchy feely in public. He wasn't completely opposed to it but he preferred to keep most of your relationship private. So when he slid his hand into yours, that wasn't out of the ordinary. What was though, was him laying his head on your shoulder and snuggling into your side.

"You sure about that?" Makki snorted, cocking an eyebrow at him before stuffing his face with rice. Iwa opened his eyes to give him a glare.

"Haji, seriously, are you ok? You keep closing your eyes like you're about to pass out" you whispered to him once the other boys had started their own little conversation. He let out a small chuckle, moving his head so his chin was on your shoulder and he was looking at you.

"Yeah, I just get a little nauseous when they're open. Room spins a little bit. I'm gonna be better by the practice game tonight though. I promise" he tried to reassure you but his comment just concerned you more. You gave him a weird look but he placed a kiss on your cheek anyway.

"Ok, if you say so" you muttered, unconvinced.

***************

You watched warily down at the court as both teams warmed up for the practice game. While you were focused on watching Iwa just to be sure that he's ok, your best friend came over and sat down next to you. She went to Karasuno, the team the practice game was against today, and decided to tag along with her boyfriend's team to come and see you. You turned and gave her a huge smile, practically pouncing on her to hug her.

"Ugh I missed you so much" She laughed, hugging you back.

"I missed you too, it's been way too long since I've seen you" you replied. The two of you got to chit chatting, pulling most of your attention away from the game that was now about to start.

"How are things with you and Daichi?"

"Amazing, he's amazing" she replied dreamily, looking lovestruck. You smiled and glanced down at the captain donning orange and black before looking back at her. "Don't think I need to ask how you and Iwa are doing, after what you told me about yesterday" she joked, making you roll your eyes, but a smile came through anyway.

"That's good" you commented, settling into your seat. She nodded happily and continued on talking about her relationship. You didn't mind, it felt good to catch up with her. You had your head turned toward her for a few minutes while she was talking when a loud "boom" sounded through the gym, followed shortly by a collective gasp from the crowd. Your attention snapped down to the court.

One of the boys from Aoba Johsai was laying down on the court, not moving at the moment. You saw the number four on his jersey and your eyes widened.

"Iwa" You said, shooting up from your seat to run down to the court. Your best friend also shot up to follow you, equally as concerned.

Once you reached the gym floor, Iwa was starting to stand up. You let out a small breath of relief that he wasn't unconscious. He made it to his feet, pushing Oikawa's helping hand off of him as he stumbled to a nearby trashcan. He stood there for a good amount of time and completely emptied his stomach.

You ran over to him, rubbing his back as he gripped the trashcan. He stood back up, eyes teary from puking his guts out. He pushed your hand off of him gently.

"I'm alright, I gotta get back to the game" he mumbled, on his second step back over to the court he fell.

"No way you're going back in that game Iwaizumi, stay where you are. Someone go get the trainer please" The coach stated sternly. You sat down on the floor next to Iwa.

"What's wrong babe?" You asked. Cupping his face in your hands.

"Room's spinning" he mumbled, closing his eyes and laying his face into one of your hands. "It's making me nauseous" you mentally winced, hoping his problem was not what you thought it was. You best friend was standing over near Daichi and they were whispering back and forth, glancing at you and Iwa every now and then.

A few moments later the trainer came jogging in behind Kindaichi who went to go get him. Apparently he'd also explained everything along the way because he just came right over to you and Iwa. You moved out of his way and went to sit next to them.

"He said the room is spinning and it's making him nauseous" you stated to the trainer. He sighed and nodded pulling something out of his jacket pocket.

"Iwaizumi if you could open your eyes for a moment, I need to see something" He commented nicely. Iwa listened to him, opening his eyes slowly. He shined a light in front of Iwa, making the boy wince and close his eyes once again. "That's what I thought. Well Iwaizumi it seems like you have a concussion, do you remember how this could've happened?" The trainer pulled out a pen and a slip of paper. Iwa cracked his eyes open and turned his head toward you. Your face felt hot, having a feeling you knew exactly how this happened.

Last night

Iwa let out a low groan as he pinned your knees to your chest and sunk his cock into you. He secured your legs on his shoulders before leaning down to connect your lips.

"You ok?" He asked, pushing his hair that was stuck to his forehead back.

“I will be, once you move” you retorted, looking up at him with challenging eyes. His gaze snapped back to yours. He grabbed your chin and connected your lips once again.

“Brat” he grunted, pulling out and thrusting sharply into you. You gasped at the unexpected movement, a hand reaching around to hold his shoulder. He gave another identical thrust, then another, and then one more. Then all you heard was a loud, sickening crack. “Ow fuck!” Iwa yelled, stopping all of his movement. Your eyes snapped open and you looked up to see Iwa bracing himself on your head board while holding his head.

“Are you ok?” You asked, looking up at him concernedly. He groaned lowly, rubbing his head.

“Yeah,” he let out a strained breath. “I just hit my head” he stated. You tapped his shoulder, signaling for him to pull out so you could move.

“Holy fuck babe, you dented the head board” you commented. “That thing is solid wood, are you sure your head is fine?” You asked, running a hand over the small dent in the wooden frame. Iwa nodded and winced slightly as he moved to lay down.

“Yeah, I’m ok babe” he sighed. “I’m just gonna lay down right here” he mumbled, reaching for the blanket to pull over his naked body. His still hard dick created a little tent in the blanket that you couldn’t help but giggle at.

“I’ll go get you some medicine” you said, getting up and sliding his hoodie over your frame along with some shorts. Your legs felt a little wobbly from your earlier activities, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

Iwa was silent the whole time you were gone, trying to get comfortable. With his head now pounding and dick still hard, it was making it quite difficult. You returned a few moments later to see a frowning Iwa, glaring down at the blanket. You followed his gaze to the tent and once again laughed a little. You placed two pills in his hand and handed him a gatorade. He happily took them and tried settling back in.

“Babe can you ride me so this goes away” he gestured down to his problem and you gave him a weird look.

“You just hurt yourself, and you’re still concerned about getting your dick wet?” You asked, cocking a brow at him. He shrugged, watching as you picked up his boxers and shorts to sit on the bed next to him.

“Please” he gave you a look that he knew you couldn’t say no to and you sighed.

“Fine” you mumbled, dropping your shorts. You went to take off his hoodie when he grabbed your wrist.

“Leave the hoodie on” you rolled your eyes, but smiled slightly as you climbed on top of him.

Present

“I hit my head” Iwa answered shortly, not wanting to go into detail about it with a school official. The trainer nodded.

“Well yes, I assumed that. How did you hit your head?” he asked with a small chuckle. Instantly the sound of you moaning filled Iwa’s head and his face turned redder than a cherry.

“Um” Iwa mumbled, looking from you to the trainer.

“Do you remember?” The trainer asked, a valid question for someone who just got diagnosed with a concussion.

“Mm hmm” Iwa nodded slowly. The trainer looked at him expectantly, raising his eyebrows as to say ‘go on’. The court was almost silent as everyone watched in anticipation. Oikawa had made his way over while everyone was talking, squatting down next to Iwa. Iwa’s eyes found Oikawa’s and he turned impossibly redder. “It’s embarrassing”

You glanced over to your best friend and Daichi, both of whom looked like they were trying so hard to hold back laughter. Oikawa looked over to them also and looked back at you, giving a playful glare.

“(Y/n)-chan, what do they know that I don’t?” He leaned over and whispered. Your face felt hot as you made eye contact with him.

“You can whisper it to me if you’d like” the trainer said to Iwa, pulling your attention away from the brunette and back to him. Iwa glanced at you and Oikawa hesitantly before nodding. Iwa gestured for the trainer to lean down, and he did. After a second of hushed whispers, the trainer’s face turned bright red also and he cleared his throat. “Right” he commented awkwardly. “Uh, it’d be best if you went to a doctor to make sure that it’s not causing you any other issues. Is this uh- your girlfriend?” He asked, looking at you.

“Yeah” Iwa answered.

“Can you see that he makes it home safe please? Let his parents know what’s going on?” He asked. You nodded and stood to your feet. The trainer and Oikawa helped Iwa up to his feet, placing his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t go too fast” Iwa winced, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to stop the spinning of the room.

“Take care of him (Y/n)-Chan, and you better answer my call when this game is over” Oikawa called as you started making your way toward the locker room. You sent an apologetic look to your friend and she waved you off, letting you know it was fine.

Once in the locker room, you helped Iwa sit down on one of the benches. He directed you to his locker and you grabbed his stuff for him.

“I can’t believe that just fucking happened” He stated, placing a hand over his still very red face. “I just had to tell the athletic trainer at my school that I got a concussion because I hit my head on the headboard while having sex”

“I can’t believe you’re actually concussed” you laughed lightly. “Sorry, it’s not funny. Is this everything?” You asked him.

“Yeah that all of it” he answered. “Now we get to go tell my parents and a doctor the same thing” he said as you pulled him back up to his feet.

“Wonderful” you cringed, thinking about how his parents would react. “That’s great”

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi oneshot #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu #aoba josai x reader #aoba joshai #seijoh #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyū x reader

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi!

It's the anon of the Remus knockout fic. Could you write a mirror fic?

Yep! For anyone who is curious: a mirror fic is when you take the premise of one fic, then translate it to a different character with minor alterations. This one has the same theme as Knockout, where Sirius was knocked unconscious after a bad hit. This is also the first half-and-half commentary fic I’ve ever written!

SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for injury, minor blood, fighting, and unconsciousness

“Lee, are you seeing this?” Frank asked, excitement building in his voice.

“I am, Frank! There’s a melee on the ice—it looks like the Lions and Snakes have finally let their cork pop after that dirty check on Lions captain Sirius Black! Oh, what a hit on Malfoy by O’Hara! That’ll leave a mark,” Lee laughed. Several whistles blew, loud and shrill over the roaring fans. “Let’s get a playba—wait. Hang on a second, Frank, is that—?”

“There’s a player down,” Frank confirmed, sobering immediately. “Lee, I think that’s Lupin, but he’s not moving.”

“Black is waving medics over and it looks like the Lions have put their fists away for the moment. Snape tries to start something again, but—oh, shut down by the refs. Right to the bench for him.” They fell quiet as another person hurried onto the ice. “That’s Hestia Jones, Gryffindor’s newest addition to the training team. Lupin always speaks highly of her, so he should be in good hands.”

Noise rippled over the stadium after a period of suspended silence. “Is he moving? He is! Lupin’s conscious again, and nobody is calling for a stretcher, which is a great sign.” Frank paused for a moment as Hestia and Sirius helped pull him upright. “And Lupin’s heading toward the locker room with about half the team on his heels, mostly under his own power.”

“I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief after that,” Lee said. “I don’t know about you, but I never like seeing fights go bad. How do you think it happened?”

“Let’s take a look.” The jumbotron picked up just after number 8 on the Snakes collided with Sirius in a late hit, nearly knocking his helmet clean off; in mere seconds, the two teams were on each other in a pack of fury. Remus went after number 8, one of the enforcers—they tussled for a moment before a hard hit from his opponent knocked him flat on the ice.

“Lupin’s fiery, but he was well out of his weight class there,” Lee said, shaking his head. “It seems like no permanent damage was done, though. We’ve got enough Lions and Snakes in the boxes that both teams are going to their second strings, Frank! Back to you!”

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

Sirius’ heart pounded in his ears as they headed off the ice, moving as slow as possible to avoid damaging Remus on the off-chance something serious had happened. Hestia’s arm was a steel bar around his lower back; Talker, James, and Leo flanked them until they reached the boards, and each of the Lions put a gentle hand on Remus’ back when he passed them.

“I’m alright,” Remus said as they stepped into the tunnel, his head drooping forward. “ ‘m okay.”

“Can you help him get his pads off?” Hestia asked quietly, finally making eye contact with Sirius while they helped him sit on the PT table.

He nodded and gently guided Remus’ hands away from the straps and buckles, undoing them from muscle memory as he kept a careful eye out for anything they may have missed. Remus half-smiled, though more pain had overtaken the dizziness. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Sirius winced at his voice crack, but removed the heavy pads without missing a beat. “How’re you feeling?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder. “Hurts. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. Can you call my mom?”

“They’ll be here soon, I bet.”

“Did you see them?”

“Earlier, yeah. They’ve got seats in the middle.”

Hestia tapped Sirius’ hip and he reluctantly moved aside to let her run through the concussion protocol, though he didn’t let go of Remus’ hand and grabbed a nearby paper towel to clean up some of the blood on his lip. “You look good to me,” Hestia said after a few minutes. “A little banged up, but nothing scary. Get some rest and water, and you’ll be good as new.”

The paper covering the table crinkled as Sirius sat down, rubbing small circles on Remus’ lower back. “Do you want to stay here or head back to the bench?”

He made a face. “Stay here, I think. I’m kind of wobbly.”

“I’ll grab your water and be right back, okay?”

Remus nuzzled Sirius’ collarbone with a sigh, then kissed his cheek. “Thanks, hon.”

As soon as Sirius was out of the PT room, he leaned against the wall and blew out a shaky breath, running both hands through his hair. He had been too preoccupied with recovering from the late hit and shoving Snape to stop Remus from engaging with the Snakes’ enforcer; all he could do was watch as they traded one, two, three hits before Remus dropped. Dropped like a stone, and took Sirius’ heart with him.

Nobody else noticed at firs—both teams were a brawling wreck at that point, and for all of his hard work Remus was still one of the smaller guys out there. It was a miracle Hestia had even heard him calling for a medic as he gripped Remus’ hand and fumbled through hoarse pleas for him to open his eyes. He had been so pale when Sirius pulled his helmet off, save for the blossoming reddish-purple mark across one side of his face.

Hestia had let him stay while she worked, speaking clipped and clear by the side of Remus’ head until he mumbled “hear you” and “hurts”. It took another half-minute before he looked at them, and a dozen lifetimes before his breathing went back to normal under Sirius’ palm.

He’s okay, he told himself for the umpteenth time. He’s okay. He’s awake. Hestia’s got him.

Sirius walked to the bench in a daze, hardly glancing at the game while he collected their waterbottles and braced himself on the back of a chair for a moment. “How is he?” Arthur asked, worry lacing his tone.

“He’s okay. Bruised and dizzy, no concussion.”

“Deep breaths, Cap. Deep breaths.” Sirius inhaled slowly, then exhaled with a shiver. Arthur gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “There you go. Everything’s alright.”

“That was fucking terrifying.”

“Sit down for a second, yeah?”

Sirius shook his head. “Gotta get him some water. Christ. Okay, I’m okay. Don’t know if you want me back out—”

“No,” Arthur said firmly. “We’re ahead, and your boys don’t look like they’re going to let the Snakes take it back.”

“Thank you.” Sirius pressed his lips together as the delayed fear rocking through him began to abate.

“Go on, son. I’ll update the others if they ask.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face before heading back down the hall with both waterbottles, trying to calm his racing heart to the sounds of quiet voices coming from the PT room.

“Sirius!”

“Hey, buddy.” Sirius bent down to catch Jules in a hug and felt tears prickle back up in his throat as his ribs were nearly crushed beneath skinny arms. The second he straightened, Hope and Lyall pulled him close in a flutter of worry.

“Is he still awake?” Lyall asked.

“Hestia’s got him,” Sirius confirmed, running a steady hand through Jules’ hair. “He’s up and talking, no concussion. I was just getting him some water.”

Hope looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she nodded. “Thank you. Can we see him?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Sirius lifted Jules onto his hip—the kid wasn’t letting go of him anytime soon—and led them down the hall, then knocked before pushing the door open the rest of the way.

Almost immediately, Remus was mobbed by both his parents. “I’m fine,” Remus assured them as Hope inspected the bruise on the side of his face. “I should know better than to start fights with—”

“You didn’t start it,” Lyall interrupted. “That was a late hit and the refs should’ve called it before things went that far.”

“Oh, lovey,” Hope murmured, cupping his face in her palms. “We are so happy for you, and we one hundred percent support you, but please think before you punch people twice your size.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Remus laughed as she kissed his forehead. “Where’s Jules?”

“Here.” Jules wiggled free of Sirius’ arms and crept over, then clambered up onto the table and tucked himself against Remus’ ribs with a sniffle. “Don’t do that anymore.”

“You got it,” he promised; Sirius lingered on the outside of their group hug before Remus reached out and dragged him into his other side. “Family hugs include you now, remember?”

“I need all my boys in one spot,” Hope added, giving him a light jostle.

“You guys are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Hestia said from the doorway as she propped it open. “Cap, Loops, coach might want to see you after the game.”

“How much time do we have?” Sirius asked without extracting himself from the net of affection.

“Eh, maybe five minutes? We’ve scored two goals in the past ten, so I don’t think it’ll drag on too much longer.”

“Sirius, how are you feeling? That hit looked pretty hard.” Hope gave him a concerned look, as if she was expecting him to also drop unconscious.

“I might be a little bruised in the morning, but I’m fine,” he said.

Lyall narrowed his eyes, then nodded. “Good. We need you.”

“I won’t be in for the rest of the—”

“We need you here,” he clarified, patting Sirius’ back. “Right here.”

Remus caught his eye and smiled softly; Sirius swallowed around the lump in his throat and relaxed into the hug, resting his temple against the top of Remus’ head. He was okay. They both were. They all were.

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