#a sense of impending doom is settling in

[oharaslover]

Loving your fanfics hun

Just wanna know, will you make someday a Boss Miguel x Maid Reader? Could be awesome 👀😳

settling a debt

pairing: boss miguel o’hara x maid fem reader

contents: drug abuse (not from miguel or reader), elements of neglect, use of gun, and oral (f receiving)

author’s note: sorry this took me so long, i hope you enjoy it though :)

word count: 4.9K

While most of the girls around you grew up being the apple of their father's eye and getting spoiled beyond belief, you'd grown up in a small home in the suburbs with a drug-abusing father. Your father had been the son of a successful tech company CEO, but instead of using the money that his father had left behind to reinvest in the company, he spent it all on fueling his addiction. So while most girls around you grew up wearing the latest clothes from the mall and prancing around with every toy that showed up on the sunday night cartoon ads, you were stuck having to go to the thrift for your clothes and using a barbie doll you found at the park one night.

Despite everything that happened, you never did notice a difference enough to resent your father. Even when you managed to get a job at a shitty burger place on the outskirts of town when you were 16, the wage just enough for you to cover a majority of the bills. You tried to save up some money, just enough to cover the application fee for a couple colleges, finding it all missing just after you'd collected a bit over 400. You wanted to be pissed off at your father, especially when you saw the tossed up baggies that lingered in his room, but you couldn't deny yourself that you just longed to feel for his love and affection. You continued to let these little things slide, hoping that your father would grow to like and maybe even love having you around.

You were coming back home from work, a feeling of impending doom following you as you stepped in through the door. You found it a bit odd that the door was open but you decided not to question what your father did in his drug-induced states anymore. The aura in the room completely changed when you stepped into the house, a strong arm gripping yours and pinning you against the wall. "What the hell?" You called out, wanting some kind of answer as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. You saw your father kneeling down on the kitchen floor, a gun barrel stuck in his mouth with glossy eyes. Maybe if you would've looked a little closer while you were walking home, you would've noticed that the front door was almost ripped off the hinges.

Your attention was ripped away from your father's vulnerable state to the giant of a man stepping out of your father's bedroom, crouching his head down so he could pass through the door. You could tell that the suit he had on cost a fortune, the material perfectly tailored to fit him. The man bit into an apple calmly as he stepped closer to you, his footsteps echoing throughout the silent home. The juice from the apple dribbled down his chin before he wiped it with the back of his hand, kneeling down at your level. The aura of authority followed him everywhere that he went, the men that were holding your father staring at the man in front of you as they waited for some kind of instruction.

The expensive cologne he was wearing practically overwhelmed your senses after being used solely to the scents of burning cigarettes and the alcohol that lingered on your father's mouth every time he opened it. "How much do you know about the money your father owes me?" He asked you, bringing his thumb underneath your chin so you'd look up at him. His ruby red eyes practically glistened in the moon night the way that gems would, his brows furrowing as he waited for an answer. "I don't know what money you're talking about," you answered honestly, hoping that he would be satisfied and leave . "Bullshit!" You heard someone boom behind you, the voice coming from the man holding your dad's arms.

"Quiet. I'm the one deciding what's bullshit and what's not," the man in front of you spoke up, the room falling back into his control as the seconds passed, every movement apart from his ceased. He took a couple minutes to look at your face, carefully assessing your features as if he were a human lie detector. He seemed satisfied with what he found, given that he stood up and dusted his suit off before walking to where your father was being held. "What's this about? Twenty dollars?" You asked, trying to access the situation better before a sharp laugh interrupted you. "You think I'd be making this much of a mess for twenty bucks?" The man that was in front of you earlier retorted, throwing the apple's stem in the garbage bin before kneeling in front of your father.

"Tell her how much money you owe me," the sharp command surprised your father, the man standing above him taking the gun out of his mouth. Your father stayed silent for a couple minutes, the gun getting slapped against the side of his head after a few seconds of defiant silence. Your father looked over at you, his eyes silently pleading before he spoke up once more. "I owe him twenty grand," his answer completely surprised you, no evidence that your father was ever in possession of such money showing itself before. "Something about wanting an investment for his start up company. Though I'm sure you're not surprised that he blew all the money on cocaine," the man bending down in front of your father added, a gun coming out of his pocket as he pointed it at your father.

"Wait, wait! I have something else that you can have!" Your father announced frantically, a puddle building underneath him as he spoke. The man immediately stood up, putting some distance with your father as he stared him down in disgust. "What possibly could you have to offer me apart from the fucking shithole you live in?" The question resulted in scattered chuckles from the rest of the henchmen, your knees buckling as you watched the situation unfold. "You can have my daughter! She's even a virgin, please!" Your fathers pleads ignited a feeling of fear in you, a feeling of betrayal brewing below that. The man let out a small scoff before he turned to look at you, walking closer once more.

He held your chin in his hand as he looked at your eyes, almost like he wanted to assess something within you. "I'm not looking for a wife, But what I am looking for is someone to provide for my home services," the man spoke to you more than anything, despite the fact that it boomed across every surface it had access to. "So what you're saying is that if I go work for you, the debt my father has will slowly start to pay itself off?" Your voice came out shaky as you asked, barely able to keep eye contact with him as he stood over you. "She'll do it!" Your father announced, another smack to the head a few seconds later. "I want to hear what your answer will be. I won't kill you, just your father if you don't agree to my terms."

Silence followed as you thought about what he was telling you, making it seem like you were giving away what you knew just so you would go and work for him. "I'll do it," you responded quietly, the man in front of you helping you up to your feet. Your steps staggered slightly as he led you out of the house, henchmen following after the two of you. Before the two of you had a chance to reach the car door, it was already being opened by one of the henchmen. "It won't be so bad. You'll find that I'm a very reasonable boss," the man next to you spoke as the engine started, giving you a rundown of the things that you would be responsible for as his new maid. "I think you'll find that it's actually a pleasure to work for me. I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Miguel, by the way."

The next day, you were rudely woken up by one of the henchmen shaking you awake. They refused to tell you where they were heading, pulling up in front of a mall a couple minutes later. "Boss gave you a three hundred dollar budget to buy yourself some work clothes," the henchman told you as the two of you walked into the mall, your eyes practically widening at the prospect of having that much money to spend on clothes. You typically didn't buy clothes unless your old sets were breaking down to the hem, usually not spending more than twenty dollars at the thrift every time it happened. "Isn't that a bit counter productive? To spend money on someone that owes him," you inquired, the henchman letting out a small scoff in response as they shook their head. "Three hundred's pocket change to the boss. Best not to question his actions, though."

You quickly realized that you had to be smart with the money assigned to you, realizing just how expensive a pair of jeans could get. You ended up walking around the mall for a bit before stumbling inside of an Old Navy, immediately drawn to the offers that were available and the convenient prices. You ended up getting a couple pairs of jeans, just enough to last you through the week and a couple blouses. Your total came out around 280, allowing for you to get one of those mall pretzels you'd heard so much about. "Do you want one?" You offered to the henchman, receiving a head shake in return. You shrugged and bought yourself the cup of pretzel pieces and a soda before leaving the mall.

You were aware of what the other maids in the house thought about Miguel, overhearing most of their conversations about how they had a desire for him to come and bend them over. But, you didn't really understand what the attraction was all about. Sure, he wasn't too bad to look at but his threatening aura completely erased every good quality that he had. You couldn't help but want to avoid making too much contact whenever you were around him, a complete contrast to the other maids who would do anything just to be in his space for a couple seconds. You were out in the basement, dusting off some art pieces before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"I can't help but think that you're avoiding me every chance that you get. Do you want to tell me why that is?" You heard Miguel's voice behind you, every syllable that he spoke melting like honey against your ears. "I'm not avoiding you," you tried to defend yourself but you could tell just by the way that Miguel looked at you that he didn't buy it. "I appreciate what you did for my father, allowing me to exchange my services for his life. But I miss having him around," you spoke up quietly, hoping that it would be enough for the night. "I know you're not exactly happy with the arrangement and I'm sorry about that. Your father and I actually used to be friends once," he told you after a while, your grip on the duster loosening slightly as he did. "What happened?"

"Your father is anything but an honorable man. He took advantage of the business that he and my father used to have together to get me to 'invest' money in him. All he cares about is when his next fix is, but if you want to continue to see things through your rose colored glasses, be my guest. There's a cord phone in my office that you can use," Miguel explained, stepping back to give you space to move. You excused yourself and headed up to his office, hesitating for a second once you approached the phone. Your fingers hovered above the keypad before eventually you typed out the number from memory, the line ringing expectantly. You weren't sure what you were expecting to get out his phone call, maybe some kind of reassurance that your father was working to get you out? An opportunity to hear how much he missed having you around?

"Hello?" The response came out groggy, his voice sounding slightly disoriented as he spoke. "Dad, it's me. How are you?" You spoke after a couple seconds, giving yourself some time to get over the initial shock that he'd even bothered to pick up. "Oh it's you. I thought it was my plug," he muttered in response, annoyance seeping through the line. "I thought you'd be happier to hear from me. Are you doing okay?" You tried to keep your optimism as you spoke, hoping that he would admit that he at the very least acknowledged how much help you were around the house. "I don't want to hear from you anymore, you're no longer my responsibility. Go ahead and grow accustomed to living without me. In a way, I'm glad that he took you away."

A small beep came as you tried to digest the information you'd been given, the phone dropping from your hands. You'd envisioned this conversation for what seemed to be a million times, drafting out what you say to your father and what you wanted him to reply to you, but now that you were on the other line, you were at a loss for words. You picked up the phone, putting it down where it belonged before stepping out of Miguel's office. You weren't expecting to find him leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he looked down at you. "Sorry you had to listen to that," you muttered, rubbing your neck and shifting your feet uncomfortably. "You don't need to apologize. I know that you're here against your will but if you ever need to talk about something and I'm available, feel free to come to me."

You weren't planning on taking Miguel up on his offer originally, but you found that he was pretty good at listening to whatever you had to tell him. He didn't offer his thoughts unless you asked, solely offering you the comfort of understanding and listening. "You were always too good for your father, I hope you know that. And if college is something you want to pursue, I'll see if i can help you out with that," he offered after you told him what happened with the money you'd been saving up, your eyes widening slightly. "If you keep doing these acts, I'm never going to repay the debt," you joked around, a bit of truth underneath your words. "You are a separate person from the debt that your father has towards me. I think you're more than the circumstance that you're in and I want to help you out any chance I get."

"Well I don't want you to necessarily pity me," you told him, sitting down on the leather couch he'd placed in his office. He let out a dry chuckle, sitting down next to you as he placed his hand on your thigh. You weren't expecting for his touch to ignite you, the sole touch sending waves of electricity running down your body. "Nobody said anything about pitying you. I just think you have potential to be something more than just the daughter of a pathetic drug addict," his words came out harsher than you'd expected them to, the resentment that he held towards your father showing with every word that he uttered. Despite the fact, you found some kind of comfort in the way that he spoke about you.

You leaned in instinctively, looking up into his eyes for any kind of hesitation from his part. You weren't sure what it was that made you want to kiss him, whether it was the belief that he seemed to hold out for you or whether it was the fact that you'd been thinking about how his lips would taste against yours despite the fact you tried to convince yourself otherwise. After seeing no reluctance from his part, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. His lips were inviting, a pathway to pure sin with every taste that you took. Your eyes fluttered shut as he took control of the kiss, his hand coming up to your cheek as his tongue danced with yours in a painfully slow tango. You felt like you couldn't get enough of how good he tasted, the sudden realization of the power dynamic dawning on you like a bucket of ice cold water poured over you.

You pulled away from him, flustered and awe struck as you saw his eyes flicker towards your mouth as you did. Almost like he'd been wanting for that to happen too. "I'm sorry, That won't happen again boss," you whispered, feeling the full extent of your actions as you stood up. You scurried away from his office before he had the chance to say anything else to you, unable to look him properly in the eye after. You heard a small "wait!" a couple seconds later, your feet carrying you to the opposite direction as fast as they possibly could. You knew that he could catch up to you if he really wanted to, but he didn't make any effort to do so.  "Fuck fuck fuck," you muttered to yourself as a mantra once you got inside your room, wishing that you could reverse everything that'd happened.

You were embarrassed by the way that you'd jumped to him for comfort the first opportunity that you'd gotten. It was past midnight, your body shifting on the bed back and forth as you tried to fall asleep. Your mind felt like it was running at a hundred miles for minute, the embarrassment of the moment repeating in your brain over and over again. You gave up on your quest of trying to fall asleep, laying down on your back as you looked up at the ceiling. You were hoping that the white noise combined with the blank slate that you were looking at would make sleep come by faster, but your brain wouldn't allow for you to live down what happened. You eventually did end up falling asleep, though the kiss between you and him followed you into your dream state.

You distanced yourself from Miguel once more as the following days passed, though he wasn't around the house too often either way. You felt an odd sense of concern towards him when he came in at around twelve in the morning, wondering if he'd had a chance to eat all day or if he had the chance to relax. You eventually managed to push those thoughts of your head and focus on the main task at hand, preparing the house for the party that he was hosting tonight. The rest of the maids were cleaning up the house, leaving you to decorating duty since you were the youngest one there. Plus, you figured that they had a tight bond from working here for so long and preferred to work amongst themselves.

The party arrived much earlier than expected, the job of decorating the house proving to be much more difficult than you’d originally thought. You'd had trouble putting up a couple banners and streamers, receiving help from one of the older maids to get it done. The house was adorned in a lovely shade of gold and white, the party being an excuse for some of Nueva York's most prominent businessmen to get the opportunity to market and expand. You'd gone to your room to get changed into a modest dress for the evening per Miguel's request to the help, finding a box on your bed once you arrived. You opened up the contents of the box, a stunning floor length gold dress inside with a pair of heels that sparkled when the light hit them just right. You hated to admit it to yourself since you didn't weren't exactly a materialistic person, but the dress fit you like a glove and looked like it was meant just for you.

"I’m glad you decided to wear my dress," you heard behind you when you stepped into the living room, spotting Miguel standing there in a black suit. The material fit around his body like it was custom made, every stitch seeming to be designed with his figure in mind. "Would've been a shame not to," you responded, hoping that you wouldn't sound as flustered as you sounded to yourself. You hadn't spoken to him since the kiss in his office and now that you were looking at him in the eye, the events from the night unfolded in your mind once more. He was about to say something else before someone else pulled him away, someone you recognized from nueva york's magazines as Peter B. Parker. Miguel didn't seem too hesitant to talk to him so you walked away, giving them the space that they needed and went to go tend to some of the guests who needed a drink refill.

You walked into the library while the rest of the maids were down in the living room attending to the guests, figuring that your presence wouldn't be missed. Your fingers ran through the shelves as you read through some of the cover pages, the covers all mesmerizing in their own way. You picked up a worn-down copy of '1984' by George Orwell, the spine of the book full of ridges and some of the pages bent in a dog-ear motion. Opening the book to a random, you were immediately greeted by Miguel's handwriting on the side as he wrote his thoughts on the page. You couldn't help but read the small tidbits that he wrote, an insightful summary of what the page had offered and a small overview of what his perspective seemed to be.

You figured he wouldn't mind that you were in here since he rarely spent time at his own home, sitting down on one of the couches he had set up near a fireplace. You opened the book back up to the first page, eyes skimming through the page as you consumed the words. You weren't sure how much time had passed by since you were in here, your only indication being the sound of a door openings. You heard footsteps shuffling around as they made their way through the library, your head snapping up to check up on who it was that came up but you were met with nothing. You shrugged to yourself, picking up the book once more and started reading where you left off.

Your eyes wandered down from the book down to where your boss was sitting, on his knees in front of you. You thought it was a bit ironic, a man with so much power being on his knees as you sat down on a chair, the scene almost making it seem like he was bowing down to you. A small shiver ran down your spine when his cold rings made contact with your skin, his hands gently moving up your legs. "Read that book to me, hermosa. I forgot how it goes," he whispered just low enough for you to hear, his face resting on your thigh. Your legs spread instinctively, a small chuckle eliciting from his throat as he kissed his way up your thigh. The cold rings that moved up and down your other leg proved to be the perfect contrast to his warm mouth, your legs already buckling from excitement.

He placed your legs on his shoulder, the heel you were wearing slightly grazing against his coat jacket. "Come on sweetheart, I asked you to read for me so do it," he cooed, gently moving his hand up and down your leg as he got closer to your clothed cunt. You felt your breathing hitch in your throat, unable to get out anything other than small whimpers as he licked a stripe against your folds. "By the time I'm done taking your panties off, I want you reading that book out loud. Do I make myself clear?" He asked, your head nodding in agreement as he hooked one of his fingers into the waistband of your panties. He slid them down at a painfully slow pace, giving you enough time to get your breathing back under control.

He disliked all women, and specially the young and pretty ones. It was always the women, and above all the young ones, who were the most bigoted adherents of the Party.

You managed to get those two sentences out before your nails dug into Miguel's scalp, pushing your pelvis against his face to receive more of what he had to give you. The tongue that was running up and down your folds stopped, his eyes flickering up to yours as he gestured with his head towards the book. You let out a small huff, annoyed at how he seemed to think you could get through even just the page with his head in between your thighs. You kept reciting lines from the book to the best of your ability, your voice sounding foreign even to yourself. You sounded breathless with every word you uttered, too overtaken by bliss to even want to continue reading the book but you couldn't run the risk of having Miguel stop now.

You stopped reading for a couple seconds, his tongue flicking inside of you in precise motions as he thrusted in and out of you. "Start that page over again for me, since you can't seem to read it properly without stuttering over your own words," he spoke up, his tongue going back to its relentless rhythm. You resisted the urge to groan as he asked you to start over, already having difficulty reading through it the first time. His fingers replaced his tongue, his pointer and middle finger flicking upwards expertly to find that spongy spot inside of you. Your heels dug into his back as he continued to finger you, his tongue swirling around your clit to stimulate the bud.

"Please, I can't keep reading this," you pleaded with him, setting the book down as you found yourself growing annoyed with every orgasm he denied. He'd had his head in between your legs for what seemed to be hours now, delaying it each time after claiming that you weren't reading well enough to earn the privilege to cum. "Alright, set it down. I'll expect for you to read it some other time," he responded, his mouth enclosing around your clit after he finished speaking. You heard some voices outside of the library, only managing to make out the syllables of Miguel's name. Your eyes widened when you felt the footsteps getting closer, looking down at Miguel in a panic. "Guess you'll have to be quiet, linda. That won't be a problem for you, will it?"

You shook your head, your palm resting against your mouth as you tried to quiet down the moans he elicited from you. The only sounds that couldn't be muffled were the sounds of Miguel slurping on your pussy, enjoying every drop of your essence like a starved man. Your fingers tightened their grip around his curls, your orgasm approaching you quickly with every flick of his tongue that he took. You looked at him, eyes watering a bit at the prospect of having another orgasm ripped out away from you. "Don't look at me like that. You can cum this time," he murmured, your stomach clenching up as you felt the knot inside of you tighten up with every second that passed. He kept the same rhythm, your release coating his tongue and mouth instantly.

He pulled away from you, grabbing your panties from the side and sliding them back on with care. His mouth glistened against the pale lights in the library, his tongue running against his lips to clean himself. "What about you?" You asked him, a prominent bulge almost threatening to burst out of his pants as he stood up. He shook his head, grabbing the book you'd placed to the side before putting it on the shelves once more. "Don't worry about me. This was about you," he responded, his hand coming to the small of your back as he guided you out of the library. You were surprised when he led you to his bedroom instead of yours, the space much bigger than what it seemed to be on the outside. "If you ever want to go to the library again, don't hesitate to do so. I have a bunch of books in there and it'll do some good for someone to read them for once," he murmured as he helped you get out of the dress you were in.

Only the sound of your breathing combined with Miguel’s could be heard as you laid on his chest, his hand tracing small circles on your shoulder as your eyes started to grow heavy every second that you kept them open. “What you said about our kisses never happening again, I hope you didn’t mean it,” he spoke softly, his movements halting for a second. You felt yourself growing flustered, simply kissing his cheek in response. "Wake me up in a couple minutes. Just need to get a bit of sleep," you murmured, looking up at him as he nodded.

You found comfort in how warm his body was against yours, your head burrowed deep into his chest as you made yourself comfortable. Despite the affirmation that he gave you, he didn't wake you up. He didn't have it in him to kick you out, not when you looked so vulnerable laying down next to him. Eventually, he ended up falling asleep as well with his arms wrapped around you.

#oharaslover #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara spiderman #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x you #self insert #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel imagine #miguel o'hara #miguel 2099 #miguel smut #miguel fic #miguel ohara #spiderman smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 smut

[heartpascal]

something is rotten

▹ — joel miller x niece!reader

▹ — summary: part two of to an empty house — arriving in jackson brings painful feelings, and even worse conversations.

▹ — a/n: UGH!! guys im not all that happy with this one!! ive changed it a couple times too D: but i have left yall hanging long enough!! lemme know if you want anymore about these guys :’) && ty guys sm for all the support ILY!!

▹ — warnings: slight spoilers for episode 6 ‘kin’, swearing, ANGST!!!, a bit of comfort, father figure joel, reader has daddy issues, and abandonment issues, and is generally not struggling in life PLS

▹ — tags: @canpillowscry @randomstory56 @angsty-twihardxx @frogtits1 @exiledangel @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @vee-vee-writes @rhyanna6012 @snixx2088 @mona-aiko @mymommmy (those of you tagged in italics asked for part 2 in the comments of the first part! drop me a message if you want your tag removed!!)

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Life in the apocalypse had been non-stop since you had left that hydroelectric power plant, left behind Tommy, and for a while, all thoughts of him. There hadn’t been time to worry about that sort of thing, between almost losing Joel, and then almost losing Ellie, and then finally reaching the hospital that had been your end goal.

In some ways, you were glad. It kept your mind racing, the feeling of constantly being on edge allowing your brain to stay away from silly things, such as your father.

But now, with that whole chapter finally being over, Joel and Ellie were ready to settle down, to live in a home, rather than travelling miles upon miles, never feeling safe. The three of you had been through a lot, and since the… incident with Ellie, her joke book had remained closed.

You knew that Joel had noticed the change in her, just the same as you had. What she had thought to be her purpose, the justification for everybody who had been lost on your journey, their sacrifice, had been for nothing. It was tearing her apart, and it hurt you to watch it happen.

There was no question about your next destination, though you tried to ignore the reality of it for as long as you possibly could, you were fully aware that Jackson was what Ellie needed. Hell, you’d even go as far as to say it was what Joel needed, too. But deep down, you knew that going there was going to tear you to pieces, despite the way you liked to put on a strong front, following in Joel’s footsteps even in that sense.

You didn’t share your concerns, content to continue the journey in silence, pretending not to notice the way Joel and Ellie looked at you the closer you got to the town.

“Hey, you okay?” Ellie murmured to you, the final stop of your journey feeling like something similar to that of impending doom. She nudged your arm with her elbow, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to.

“Mighty fine.” You responded, her dim smile reflected in your own, and you let it fall the moment she nodded at you, despite clearly being unconvinced by your words.

You fell into step beside her and Joel, and felt his hand grasp on to your shoulder as you caught glimpse of Jackson in the not far enough distance. He squeezed your shoulder the slightest bit, and gave you the biggest reassuring smile he could muster, though it didn’t soothe your worries like it used to.

Maybe it was everything the three of you had been through over your journey, or maybe it was the impending arrival at Jackson, but you were starting to notice the world had become much dimmer than you remembered it to be. Joel’s grip less reassuring, Ellie’s smile less genuine, that faint hope in your gut long gone. With a frown, the thought came to you that this was what it meant to grow up.

The lines on Ellie’s face said the same thing, the sigh that had left her chest, made up of pure exhaustion, just told you that her naive nature had vanished. Jokes no longer received the same laughter, and the world no longer held beauty. Growing up felt like hopelessness settling, nuzzling its way in and making itself at home in that space around your heart. The grip it had made it feel like perhaps, it wouldn’t be all too bad if that heartbeat slowed, but you pushed that thought aside for another time.

For now, you’d have to focus on the problem at hand; arriving in Jackson.

It was warmer now than it had been when you’d left the power plant, and it showed in the way that the green lands had brightened, the sun settling and warming the back of your neck. The heat meant less layers, and the three of you had removed your jackets long before arriving in the town.

The lookouts had spotted you all before you’d been anywhere near the gate, so it was no surprise that Tommy was there to greet the three of you when the gates were finally pulled open, allowing you a peek into the home he valued so much.

Walking in, you had already begun your self-appointed mission of ignoring every word Tommy Miller said, but felt yourself almost blown away by the sights around you. For a moment, just a split second, it was nice.

That thought went out the window a second later, catching a glimpse of your so-called father, and you couldn’t help but recall the way you’d sat for endless nights, waiting for that very man, and imagined yourself living a life with him in a town just like this one.

You felt sick.

That little kid deserved better, you decided. You were worthy of living this kind of life, of getting to sleep in a warm house, of not having to worry about if Joel and Tess would get enough ration cards to feed the three of you, of getting horse riding lessons! The facts of the situation stared you in the face, getting clearer the longer you looked around. Your own father denied you of this life.

With building anger, the feeling white-hot, burning, you turned to Joel where he was speaking with his brother. “Where are we staying?”

Tommy looked between you and Joel, swallowing when Joel just raised a brow at him, and spoke, “Uh, little place just a couple blocks over. 38, I think. Rancher Street, I’ll take you guys over—”

“I’ll make my own way.” You snapped, before he could even finish his sentence. If you had to look at him for even a second longer, you were sure that the overflowing anger and resentment would explode, and you weren’t convinced anyone would be able to pick up the pieces that would be left behind.

You stormed down the street before he could say another word to you, turning down the first alley you saw and standing still in the street on the other side, letting out a harsh breath.

You couldn’t be sure how long you’d stood there for, trying to turn down the simmering emotions inside of you, but it was clearly long enough for somebody to notice. “You good there?” A young girl asked, and you turned to her, brows furrowed.

“‘M fine.” You responded gruffly, and even you could hear the way your speech reflected Joel’s own. The thought calmed you, almost, reminding you of who your real dad was.

She stepped closer, clearly not taking a hint, “You sure? New in town? You look lost.”

“Yes, yes, and I’m not lost.” You said to her, though you didn’t exactly know where you were. She just raised her eyebrows at you, and you huffed, “Lookin’ for a Rancher Street.”

The girl nodded, something between a smirk and a smile on her face, and pointed forward, “First left twice, then a right. Should get you there just fine.”

“Thanks.” You said, immediately heading off in the direction she’d guided you in. You kept your head down, brows furrowed, and tried to keep your attention away from the world around you. It was clear that it’d just make you more angry.

You counted along with the house numbers as you passed by, Rancher Street wasn’t that densely populated, if the look of the houses were anything to go by. There was quite a few that looked run down, number 38 included, once you arrived. You went inside, the door already unlocked, and sneezed when you inhaled all the dust that clouded the air. This place must’ve been barely touched throughout the last twenty years.

Grabbing a book left on the coffee table, you pulled it open, and sat on the edge of an old sofa, sighed through your nose when even more dust floated up from it.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You’ll go, because it’s the polite thing to do.” Joel told you firmly, sighing heavily as he looked over at you with his arms crossed.

“You think I give a shit about being polite?” You asked him, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms. He rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he clearly brainstormed a way to get around your stubbornness.

“Just this one time,” He told you, saying your name pleadingly, “Then you’ll never have to go ‘round there again.”

That peaked your interest, and you uncrossed your arms, “Really? You promise?”

“Swear.” Joel replied, and sighed something near to relief, finally calling Ellie’s name. The stairs creaked, and she appeared less than a second later.

“You coming?” She asked, thought she had obviously been sat on the stairs, listening to yours and Joel’s… conversation, the whole time.

“Yeah,” You sighed unhappily, “I’m coming.”

The three of you made your way across town, with Joel checking a scrap piece of paper that you could only assume held directions. Lights had flickered on by now, the darkness of the evening being offset by the yellow lamps that poured light over the street. It was weird, you thought, being able to see so clearly in the darkness.

Joel knocked at the wooden door when you arrived, looking back at you where you stood, just off the porch with Ellie, like he thought you might run away if he didn’t keep his eyes on you.

Though the thought had occurred to you, you wouldn’t do it, not if it meant that Joel’s promise would be vacant. Just this once, he had sworn.

The front door opened as Ellie knocked your arm with her elbow, giving you a slight reassuring smile. You appreciated the effort, but the reassurance fell flat. There was something about this situation that you just couldn’t put into words, but it hurt. Her arm wrapped through your own as Joel followed Tommy inside, and she led you in after them, closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you were tense. Your heart felt as if it was beating in your throat, like it was going to stop if you took another step. You tried not to look around, keeping your eyes on your battered old shoes as you let Ellie continue leading you through the house.

Her abrupt stop had you stumbling into her, and lifting your head with furrowed brows. You glanced to where she was looking, seeing the names Kevin and Sarah written in a scrawl on a chalkboard in what you guessed would be a living room. You frowned, and gripped Ellie’s arm tighter, breaking her from her stare at the board.

You pretended not to notice the homely feel to the house, the warmth of it making your palms sweat. If you allowed your mind to wonder too far, you’d be reminded of how you had dreamed of living a life like this as a kid, dreamed of a house just like this one, shared with your father. You would be reminded of how he chose to have this, chose to have it without you.

Good job you keep your mind on a tight leash, you supposed, gritting your teeth and blinking away the angry tears that wanted to rise and fall from your eyes.

You breathed in deeply through your nose, looking up as Ellie began to loosen her grip on your arm, having arrived at the dining room. The concept had always been strange to you, having lived in a shitty apartment for basically all your life, and having a whole room just for eating seemed like a waste of valuable space.

Ellie took a seat, and you quickly followed in her example as Joel stood talking to Tommy by the doorway, engaged in conversation like they were as close as they had been two decades ago.

“You got this.” Ellie said, her hand on squeezing your arm as she looked towards where you were wringing your fingers together, your stomach feeling as though you’d left it back by the porch. You nodded at her, swallowing and smiling tightly.

You stayed quiet as Tommy finished setting the table, before he was moving back and forth between the dining room and kitchen, bringing various plates and a few sauces with each trip. Finally, he sat down at the head of the table beside Ellie, and you kept your gaze away from him.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you guys when you got in,” Maria called, finally approaching from the kitchen, and you were keeping your gaze on your hands until Ellie frantically began tapping your, her expression saying something you’d couldn’t quite understand, something close to pity in her eyes. “Kinda hard to get around so quick, these days.” Maria laughed, placed a big plate down on the table before standing back up, her hands on her back and—

If you had eaten any food, you were sure you would’ve thrown it all back up.

There, standing in front of you, was your father’s wife — pregnant.

It felt like a million different feelings were running through your head, faster than you could catch up, all your thoughts were racing, clashing together and leaving only one that was literate: What the fuck?

Maria sat down beside Joel, at Tommy’s side, and you could see in Joel’s eyes that he hadn’t expected this, could see the pity building in his eyes just as you’d seen in Ellie’s, and it was all far too much.

“I can’t do this.” You announced, slamming your hands on the table and feeling some satisfaction in the way the cutlery clattered together. You pushed your chair back, standing up, and saw your father open his mouth to speak.

He said your name, and you snapped.

“Don’t talk to me! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You cried out, staring daggers at the man who was supposed to be your dad. The angry tears that you had managed to push away earlier came rushing back, one already falling down your cheek. You wiped it away angrily.

“Kid, just listen—”

You seethed, “Kid? Do I look like a fucking kid to you? You missed out on that, Tommy. You have no idea—” Your voice broke for a moment, as you thought of all the things that had happened to you since your father had been around. “I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my dad, remember? You left your daughter, years ago. You have no idea what we’ve been through.”

Ellie was stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, though when she had got there, you had no idea. The edges of your vision were red, and you could feel the way your throat was tightening.

“I’m sorry,” He started, your name leaving his lips once again, and Ellie held firmly against you as you leant towards him, your blood warming in your veins as your heartbeat echoed in your ears.

“I don’t think sorry cuts it.” You laughed, humourlessly. “I don’t think anything does, actually. I will never forgive you. You hear me? You listening? Never.”

You turned away, Ellie’s hand falling away, and you even avoided Joel as he stood up and tried to reach out for you. You couldn’t face them, not like this, not when it felt like your father had taken a chisel to your heart, and left you with only splintered ribs. You were choking on the emptiness of it, the reality of your life and what it meant to the man who had helped create it.

You were more certain now than ever that he had never cared for you, that he had left because of you, not just despite you.

It was horrible, and it was something you had always suspected. A part of you wished that he had died alongside the Fireflies, because at least then he wouldn’t have had a choice in staying away, right? But no, he was alive and well, thriving in the home he’d made without you, while you worried back at the QZ that barely provided you with enough food to get by.

You were storming away, and had reached the house you'd been allocated before you even really noticed that you had left. The blood in your veins had reached a boil by now, and you could feel the steaming in your lungs, in the way it suffocated you and made every breath burn against your throat.

The backpack in your hands was still filled with everything you owned, seeing as you hadn’t bothered to unpack into somebody else’s bedroom, though it had been theirs a lifetime ago. It didn’t help the deepening rage within you, the despair that was tilting your entire world on its axis. Everything in your life was in this bag, probably weighing less than the plate of food Maria had brought out.

Meanwhile, your father had a whole house full of shit that belonged to him. You scoffed, feeling that burning sensation crawling up your chest, so close to hatred, but something far more raw, more painful.

Your feet took you back out to Rancher Street, legs moving before your mind was fully caught up. You met the rest of the Miller’s halfway through your trek, with them on their way to Joel’s new house, whilst you were trying to make your way to the gate, prepared to leave, rather than get left behind.

Joel called your name, his expression displaying the panic that was crushing his chest. He had been a builder, before. He had fixed things — it was what he did, what he liked to do. But this was something he didn’t know how to fix, something that may have just been broken beyond repair… he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“Joel, don’t,” You told him, voice trembling as you spoke, stopping in front of the man who had looked after you for your whole life. “Please don’t. Nothin’ that anyone says could make me not hate him. Not even you.”

Joel swallowed, glancing back to his brother behind him, where he stood with his wife, before glancing to Ellie at his own side.

“I—I didn’t mean for this,” Tommy said, arms up by his head as if he was surrendering, but you knew he was just trying to make himself feel better. “I swear!”

“I don’t care,” You cried, feeling your frustration build that none of these people had the ability to understand you, to understand how it felt for your own father to look at you and leave you behind. They couldn’t get how crushing this was, that he was starting over. “Go ahead, start over with your wife. First time ‘round didn’t work, but second time, surely!”

He flinched at your words, as if they had hurt him, but your expression hardened. He had no idea what true hurt was — how could he?

“I know I wasn’t the greatest dad—”

“You have never been my dad. Joel is my dad. He’s looked after me my whole life while you were out lookin’ for something, who knows what, because I don’t believe you ever found it.” You spat at him, feeling Ellie approach your side, hold on to your wrist as your hands clenched into fists.

Joel’s face fell, the reality of your feelings towards your father were crushing, but he could see why you’d feel that way. He’d agree with you, too, if anybody deserved the title of your dad, it’d be himself, not his brother. He remembered a few times when you’d used the name for him, though you had been sick or exhausted down to your very bones both times, and he had figured that in your muddled mind, you’d gotten him confused with Tommy. That was the reason he had never corrected it, not wanting to squash whatever little amount of hope and love you had for his brother. He’d had no idea that the truth was that you saw him, not his brother, and your mind had made that connection.

He felt like he could cry when you turned to him, that glassy look in your eyes, and he saw the pieces of you that his own brother had broken. “I want to leave.” You told him, lip trembling as you said the words.

Joel didn’t know what to reply with — the two of you had nowhere to go, and Ellie didn’t, either. This place was your best option, your only option, really. He shook his head, mouth slightly agape as he tried to think of something to say, something that could convince you.

Ellie said your name, and you drew your gaze to her, where she looked guilty, far guiltier than you had ever seen her. “I want to stay.” She told you, her eyes darting away from you as if she was confessing some awful sin to you.

“I know,” You said, letting her hand slip from your wrist to your own hand, and squeeze tightly. “But I…”

Your gaze moved to Tommy and Maria, and your expression hardened, features turning to stone when you looked at the two of them. “I’ll stay. For now. And I’m still a Miller, but— but if anybody asks, I’m Joel’s daughter.”

Joel nodded, smiling thinly at you, tears welled up in his own eyes, and you nodded back to him.

“O—Okay.” Tommy said, swallowing, but you shushed him before he could continue.

“As for you, I don’t wanna see you. Let’s keep it the way you decided we should be.“ Your voice trembled, but you remained firm on your words. “I don’t wanna see your face, or hear your voice. I don’t want to know you. Joel can do what he likes, but you stay far away from me, you got it? The only kid you have is that one.” You finished, gesturing toward where Maria held a hand over her stomach.

Tommy looked as if he was going to disagree, but people had begun peeking through the windows of the houses on either side of the street, and when Joel stepped beside you, arm immediately going around your shoulders, he knew he had no choice.

“Hope you’re a better father to that kid than you were to me.” You hissed at him, seeing the way his face crumpled and finding satisfaction in it.

The small part of you, the darkest part, hoped every one of your words hurt him. Hoped that he lived the rest of his life knowing that he fucked up, that he ruined you, and that when you built yourself back up, he’d never get the chance to know you.

Joel took the backpack from your shoulder, pulling it over his own, and turned you away from the father you had disowned. The three of you walked away, not looking back to see the way Maria had to herd him away as he stared at you, something close to grief in his eyes.

When you arrived back at 38 Rancher Street, Ellie held your hand tightly while Joel opened the front door, dropping your backpack by the stairs as he moved towards the dust filled living room. The two of you followed him, and he turned around to see you squeezing Ellie’s hand, your lips trembling and your face crumpled as you looked up at him.

“Did I make a mistake? Did I ruin everything?” You asked him, trying so hard to keep yourself together, to tape all the little pieces of yourself into something that resembled okay, but it wasn't working.

“God, no, kid.” Joel said, and he was in front of you and Ellie before you could get another word in, pulling the two of you into his arms and breathing out a tired exhale. “I’m proud of you, proud of you both.” He told you, and your whole facade collapsed beneath you, leaving you sobbing into his arms, wondering where everything had gone wrong, wondering what that little kid would’ve said if she had heard your words tonight.

“We’re gonna be alright.” Joel told the two of you, feeling Ellie squeeze her arms tighter around him, until she let go, pointing upwards to let him know where she was heading. He nodded at her, an understanding expression on his face, and tightened both his arms around you.

“You swear?” You checked, unable to help yourself, and let yourself breathe a shaky sigh into his neck when he responded.

“Swear.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller father figure #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller platonic #joel miller x reader platonic #tlou imagines #tlou one shot #tlou imagine #tlou angst #tlou fluff #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller angst #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal fluff #heartpascal writes

[nincompoopydoo]

GET A GRIP

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x Reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k SUMMARY: You get knocked out by an Unsub and Hotch is just so concerned for you. Takes place during Season 9 Episode 15. A/N: So happy to be writing again and for the BAU’s number one cutie for the first time! Let me know what you think of this! WARNINGS: swearing. just overall TENSION. punching. no beta we die like men. MASTERLIST

“Did you find Gabby?”

Sue Walsh begins with a now-known pretence of apprehension to her voice as she watches you stride into the interrogation room, Hotch trailing behind you. You’ve completely switched from your natural gentle demeanour into a daunting disposition paired with a drive to break the potential guise Sue has expertly built as a psychopath.

You have done this a hundred times before, but this very interrogation intimidates you. There’s a toil of dread that settles in the depths of your stomach as a sense of impending doom begins to fill your thoughts. Still, a part of you is reassured with Hotch looming behind you.

Hotch will never let anything bad happen to you. He had hesitantly let you be the one to break Sue’s facade, knowing that if the theories proved to be right, you could be attacked. Yet, he gave in, knowing you were the right person to do it. These were your fields of expertise after all – you knew the perfect words that would trigger Sue’s uncontrolled rage.

You silently inhale, calming your nerves, forcefully preventing any sort of facial expression that could reflect what was going through your mind. The last thing you need is Sue spotting any sort of fault in you.

“What do you think?” you snapped, tone reeking with sarcasm. What was once nerves are quickly replaced by the agitation growing within you. “Are we gonna find her?”

Sue Walsh merely stared at you, an even more obvious fake innocence etched across her face. One that could easily be proved otherwise. You snatched the headshot of Gabby from the desk, leaning menacingly towards Sue as you forcefully planted the picture right before her eyes.

“Kate trusted you with the care of her child. You were responsible for this little girl.”

Sue flinched, but you don’t buy the whole act one bit. You pressed on.

“You had a duty to protect her, And you failed.”

With every word that left your lips, you began to see the facade fade before your very eyes, a wave of anger shifted within her, stare never once left your own.

“What happened to Gabby is all your fault.” You continued to push, staring into her ever-angrier eyes.

“You know nothing about what it takes to be a mother. You're pathetic –”

In an instant, Sue launched her fist across the gap and into the bridge of your nose. The hit came a lot quicker than you'd expected. You shifted in your stance, teetering on the heels of your feet as you stumbled away from her, defensively jerking down sharply as you were completely blindsided by the punch you had taken a split second ago. 

Immediately, you feel a pair of hands yank you away from the woman who’s screaming bloody murder at you. It’s Hotch who pushes you back and away from Sue, a protective hand firmly pressed against your shoulder as you stagger backwards. He grabs the unsub by the shoulders, attempting to restrain her from hitting you further, successfully resisting her sharp spasms as he pulls her back to her seat. 

A cop promptly appeared from the doorway, swiftly making his way to Sue’s side to handcuff her to the desk. Hotch finally releases Sue from his grip, casting a glance at you as you watch the way his eyes flicker to your nose for a fleeting moment before a crease between his brows appears, eyes gleaming with worry.

You immediately regain all composure, and instinctively bring your palm to press firmly against the base of your nose as you felt warm liquid seeping from within. You closed your eyes for a moment, silently hissing at the bruising pain that just coursed through your cheeks and to the back of your head.

Everything else began to hurt.

Doesn’t help that Sue was still screaming at the very top of your lungs at you.

You shift your gaze back to Hotch who took a few steps closer to you, expression still etched with worry. He begins to say something, but your ears are now ringing. You don’t hear a word, Sue’s screams are no longer screeching against the eardrums. Pressing your lips together in an attempted smile directed at Hotch, you scurried out of the room, head beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

Yet again, you’ve had it worse.

–

“Are you alright?”

You turn to see Hotch standing in the doorway with that same look he had given you minutes ago in the interrogation room. One that now sent your heart thrumming faster than you would have liked it to be.

There’s an ice pack pressed against the bridge of your bruised nose, hair in slight disarray with your coat discarded on the desk you are perched on – truly a sight for sore eyes. You spent the last ten minutes since the on-site medic left you to your own devices caught in a daydream, gaze fixated on the adorned evidence board before you. 

Sue Walsh proved to be everything the team had theorised, but you’re wrecking your brain for places she could have hidden Gabby. Your breaths remain shallow, the almost normal anxiety of dreading the worst; it’s just a lot harder on you when it’s a child’s life at stake.

Hotch swiftly moves across the room to settle beside you, propped against the desk. You shift nervously, initially concerned that he may be upset that you insisted on interrogating the unsub and in turn gotten yourself hurt. Yet, you don’t sense any ounce of dismay. His eyes are on you, head tilting as he silently inspects the bruise on your nose from a distance.

"I'm fine," you croak out, disregarding the painful sensation that surges with each breath. 

Hotch maintains a thoughtful silence, and though he doesn't speak, you can feel his gaze lingering on you. When you turn to meet his eyes, you're met with an enigmatic expression that's hard to read. You can tell there’s something on his mind at the sight of his creased brows, something at the tip of his lips that is so much of important that he needs a moment to express the right words. You raise a curious eyebrow, and you eye how he is almost as if pulled back to the current reality of your situation, quickly shifting his focus back to the evidence board, but you can almost sense the wheels of his mind still in motion.

There’s a set rule to never profile any of your colleagues, especially when it comes to Hotch, but you cannot help but perceive the sudden surge of embarrassment within Hotch as you eye the reddening of his cheeks.

“Talk about taking one for the team.”

Hotch says it with amusement and all you can think to yourself is how he’s diverting the subject. Yet, the appearance of his small smile is contagious and you mirror it. Against your better judgment, you let out a huff that deemed itself a weak laugh that sent a sharp throbbing pain across your nose.  You instantly hiss and Hotch shifts into a stance, catching sight of his returned concerned expression. You really wished he would stop doing that – being so incredibly concerned for you that it sends a heated flush across your cheek once more. You immediately wave your hand at him, dismissing any sort of fuss he was about to put up. A gesture to let him know you were definitely fine.

Definitely fine about the way Hotch is standing so close to you right now that you’re about to collapse at how lightheaded you were feeling and how fast your heart beating at this very moment.

God, just shut up.

Get. A. Grip.

Despite everything, you soldier on.

“I knew she was going to hit me at some point. I just…didn’t expect it to be that quick.” you hum, careful to prevent any sort of facial movements as you increase the pressure of the ice pack against your nose, the pain beginning to subside from the cold.

Hotch simply hums and those gleaming brown eyes return to you, stealing your breath away once again. You avert your gaze, afraid that if you hold his stare for far too long you might do or say something you will regret for the rest of your life. You can’t think straight and you feel your head begin to spin once again, and the way your heart tugs against your chest and the way–

“You’re bleeding.”

You’re abruptly hauled from your running thoughts by the sound of his returned worried voice. 

You simply blink.

“What?”

In an instant, Hotch retrieves the tissue packet from the snug left pocket of your coat on the desk and pulls out a piece. Suddenly, a tissue is gingerly pressed against the base of your nose and all you can feel is the warmth of his hand grazing your cheek.

Your eyebrows immediately shoot up, your expression alarmed by how the situation has just unfolded. Hotch discerns the bewilderment etched across your face as your eyes widen in confusion. In response, his other hand finds the curve of your shoulder and gently squeezes it – a silent indication to calm you down even though you had already concluded that the entire situation could only be a product of a particularly convoluted and amusing daydream.

You watch him tilt his head to your eye level, attempting to snap you out of the panic that had just consumed you.

“You’re bleeding,” he repeats, and you find yourself nodding mechanically, but you’re not really listening, his words were distant and the world seemed to fade into insignificance. You’re very much aware of his closeness and you can’t help but feel vulnerable in his presence. This isn’t the first; it’s always been like this.

You shift your hand to hold the tissue that’s pressed against your nose, fingers grazing his. 

“I can take care of myself,” you say quietly as if it’s something so sacred and only for his ears.

There’s a brief pause, Hotch’s eyes never leave yours.

“I know.”

And then, you see it. The way his gaze flickers, just for a fraction of a second, to your lips. It was so incredibly subtle, so fleeting, that you could have easily dismissed it as a trick of the light. You feel it too, the sense of something unspoken that has been looming between the two of you for quite some time. Something that makes your breath hitch at this very moment, the way you could almost feel his breath. And it makes the room shrink, a distance so narrow between him and you that with one slight shift of your feet, you could almost–

Creak!

You hear the door of the room swing open and the two of you immediately pull away so fast that your head spins for a split second. Your eyes dart towards the doorway to see Rossi, mouth slightly agape as if he had just witnessed something so shocking. 

Well, you don’t blame him.

You discern how his expression instantly morphs into a knowing look once he catches Hotch’s eyes and you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of Rossi catching you canoodling with your boss.

With. Your. Boss.

Oh God.

Your eyes dart to Hotch and he clears his throat, face redder than usual.

Divert. Divert. Divert–

“I’m bleeding.” is all you manage to say.

Rossi merely responds with a dry chuckle and then turns on his heel and disappears out the doorway.

You turn to Hotch once more. He’s looking at you, blinking.

Fuck.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch x reader

[xtra7s]

First, I love your work!

Second Clicking ont the yes baby button made me feel things !

Third I was wondering if you could write about Leighton or Renée who has an hidden anxiety disorder

Thanks ♤

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

Leighton Murray x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Your girlfriend Leighton is struggling.

Content: Anxiety attacks, fem reader, ummm idk fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

a/n: LOVE REQUEST SO MUCH HOPE I DID IT WELL IM SORRY ITS SHORT (Glad the button made u feel things)

masterlist

Leighton's heart raced like a runaway train, each beat reverberating through her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. She stared blankly at the pages of her math textbook, the equations and formulas blurring together into an indecipherable mess. No matter how hard she tried to focus, her mind refused to cooperate, consumed instead by a rising tide of panic.

"I can't do this," Leighton whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breaths. "fuck I can't do this."

She raked a hand through her hair, tugging at the perfectly styled blonde locks in frustration. This wasn't like her. Leighton Murray was known for her sharp intellect and unwavering confidence, especially when it came to academics. But now, faced with the looming specter of failure, she felt utterly powerless.

The fluorescent lights of the college dorm hallway cast a stark glow on the beige walls, as Bela, Leighton's roommate, hurriedly dialed Y/N's number. She could hear the faint sound of Leighton's pacing from the other side of the door, mixed with the irregular rhythm of her breaths.

"Come on, pick up," Bela muttered under her breath, anxiety lacing her voice as she waited for the call to connect.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N answered. "Bela? What's up?"

"Y/N listen, something's wrong with Leighton. She's freaking out about something. I don't know what to do."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the urgency in Bela's voice. Leighton was known for her impeccable composure, if she was hyperventilating over something, it had to be serious.

"I'm on my way," Y/N said without hesitation, grabbing her jacket and keys before rushing out of her own dorm room.

Minutes later, Y/N knocked on the door of Leighton and Bela's room, her heart pounding in her chest. Bela opened the door, her eyes wide with concern as she stepped aside to let Y/N in.

Leighton was pacing around her room, her usually perfectly styled blonde hair in disarray, and her hands shaking as she clenched and unclenched her hands.

"Leighton, hey," Y/N said softly, crossing the room to grab ahold of Leighton's hand softly, stopping the pacing. "What's going on? Why are you so worked up?"

Leighton looked up, her blue eyes swimming with panic and vulnerability. "Y/N, I… I don't know what to do. My brain is all scrambled and I can't memorize these formulas for shit I don't know what's wrong with me."

Y/N's heart broke at the sight of Leighton's distress. She smiled sadly at her, offering a reassuring squeeze to her hand.

"Hey, look at me," Y/N said, her voice steady and soothing. "You are more than capable, Leighton. You're brilliant, and you know this stuff. I know you do, you're quite literally the smartest girl on campus."

Y/N noticed Leighton's breathing picking up, and she gently guided Leighton to sit down on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, it's okay," Y/N said soothingly, her voice a beacon of calm in the storm. "Just breathe with me, alright?"

Leighton nodded shakily, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Y/N settled down beside her, taking Leighton's trembling hands in her own and guiding them to her chest.

"Feel my breath," Y/N instructed, her voice soft and reassuring. "Inhale… and exhale."

Together, they began to breathe in tandem, the steady rise and fall of Y/N's chest a comforting rhythm against Leighton's fingertips. With each breath, the tight knot of tension in Leighton's chest began to loosen, replaced instead by a sense of peace and calm.

As they continued the exercise, Y/N whispered words of encouragement, her voice a gentle melody soothing Leighton's frazzled nerves. And with each passing moment, the storm raging inside Leighton began to subside until all that remained was the quiet serenity of the present moment.

"Better?" Y/N asked, her eyes searching Leighton's for any sign of distress.

Leighton nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Y/N," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Y/N smiled back, her heart swelling with love for the girl sitting beside her. "You don't have to do anything alone, Leighton. I'm here for you, always."

Leighton's breathing began to slow as she focused on Y/N's comforting words. With each steady inhale and exhale, the tension in her body began to ease.

After the storm of panic had passed, their fingers stayed intertwined as they basked in the calmness that filled the room. But amidst the tranquility, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging concern that had been gnawing at her since she first saw Leighton in distress.

"Leighton," Y/N began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "do you… do you have an anxiety disorder? I'm so sorry if that's rude to ask, I've just noticed you get really.. panicked sometimes."

Leighton's breath hitched at the question, her eyes widening in surprise. She hadn't expected Y/N to pick up on the underlying issue so quickly, let alone address it so directly.

"Yeah," Leighton admitted hesitantly, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I do."

Y/N's brow furrowed in concern as she faced Leighton, her expression a mixture of empathy and confusion. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Leighton looked away, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor as she struggled to find the right words. "I guess… I guess I was scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Scared that you would think less of me, or that you wouldn't understand."

Y/N reached out and gently lifted Leighton's chin, guiding her to meet her gaze. "Leighton, I could never think less of you," she said earnestly, her eyes filled with sincerity. "You're still the same amazing person I fell in love with, anxiety disorder or not."

Leighton's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she absorbed Y/N's words, her heart overflowing with gratitude for the unwavering love and acceptance she found in Y/N's embrace.

"Thank you," Leighton whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to Leighton's forehead. "You never have to face anything alone, Leighton. I'm here for you, always."

And as they sat together in the quiet intimacy of Leighton's room, surrounded by the gentle warmth of their love, Leighton knew with unwavering certainty that no matter what challenges life threw their way, as long as she had Y/N by her side, she could weather any storm.

#leighton murray x reader #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #lesbian #wlw #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #lgbtq #mean girls #regina george x reader

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part two)

Steve Rogers x f!reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve tries to settle into his life in the 50s, and we get a glimpse of the days when Steve and the reader were getting to know each other post Civil War.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Steve beginning to regret his decision (he just won't admit it yet), the NSFW stuff won't happen until after a whiiiile, this is a slow burn (y'all can blame Steve!!)

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter ▪︎ next chapter

The 1950s, one month after Steve's arrival

Peggy knows about you. It doesn't take her long to figure it out. What started out as the mystery figure her partner seems to be so wistful over - as time passes, the idea of you becomes stronger.

It takes shape, like you are not just a memory to be gotten over.

You're there, in their very walls, but you're not. Of all the people Steve left behind, your shadow looms the strongest over him.

"She must have been special, Steve. She sounded like a very dear friend," Peggy expresses, one morning over breakfast when they were going through the people in Steve's future.

Past, to be more apt. All those people are no longer going to be a part of Steve's days. You no longer will be.

He thought he would be fine with it all, treating it like the end of a book. This is his fresh start with Peggy, a chance to simply live his life without constant threat of impending doom.

That apple pie, white picket fence, American dream. He wants to have a son and a daughter. Maybe he'll even name them after you and James.

The two most important people in his life then, reflected in the children whom will be his reason for existence.

Everything should be just perfect.

So why isn't it?

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2017, eight months after the Avengers' Civil War

Being on the run was brutal, but familiar.

A year ago, you were made to choose between the two sides in the Sokovia accords, after your old friend Natasha pulled you out of your over extended holiday.

She wanted you to join her side, Tony's side. They could use all the help they can get to fight Captain America who apparently had gone rogue.

Little did she know that you would end up fighting with him instead, after you found out what his motivations were.

After the war, yourself and all those who acted against the accords were branded enemies of the state. Incidentally, this included Nat, who also had a change of heart.

Captain America - Steve - broke you out of a maximum security prison, and you all branched out in different parts of the world to go into hiding.

At first, you and Nat went to her safehouse in Budapest. Then to one of your apartments in Malta. Eventually, you had to separate to keep the trail cold, and to confuse anyone at your tail.

Which is how you ended up in some remote cabin in Alaska with none other than Steve himself.

And you got to know each other really well.

He was closed off at first, maintaining a sense of cordiality that must come as second nature to him. It was evident that the Civil War took a toll on him. He had an anger, a resentment about him that wasn't there when you first came across him in Romania. When you decided to cross over and aid in his cause.

For the first few weeks, he kept his distance, merely keeping up with what's required of a fellow lodger on the run. He made sure there was hot coffee left for you when he brewed a fresh batch. He was always quiet in his room across the hall. He would say his polite good mornings, his how are yous, before taking his daily walk in the woods, scouting the area for any potential anomalies.

It took a while before he stopped being just Captain America in your eyes, but inevitably, you grew to know Steve Rogers.

And you came to fall in love with him. But you didn't admit this until much, much later.

You're not sure which one of you broke first, but eventually the polite, little greetings turned into breakfast conversations, eventually incorporating comfortable inside jokes.

You discovered that he had a myriad of questions about your chosen life, how you ended up working for The Agency. Much like the Red Room but without any ties to a particular government, The Agency specialized in producing highly-skilled individuals when it comes to combat and covert operations.

For a while, it was your MO to make sure that the widows were unsuccessful in their missions which involved civilian casualties. So you first encountered Nat when the Red Room gave her the task to take you out, but you were too wily and evaded her at every turn.

At some point, and to both yours and her surprise, you actually ended up becoming friends.

You could tell that Steve was holding back in commenting on your choice of profession, but he wasn't really in any position to judge - America's former poster boy turned into their number one fugitive. He wanted to suggest that perhaps there was a better life out there suited for you, one that didn't require you to constantly look behind your shoulder.

But how could he? You were there because of him. In a way, his rebellion pulled you out of your momentary pocket of paradise.

You told him you had retired before Nat called you in, but of course that wouldn't have lasted long. One way or another, you always found yourself back in.

Like you were craving it, almost. Or because you had nothing else but this life. This was your normal.

"What do you think it would look like, if you actually had a shot at normal?" he asked, the glowing embers of the fireplace dancing shadows across his face.

You observed him, and you couldn't help but note how impossibly good he still looked even with his facial hair unkempt and grown out. "What I think it would really look like, or what I would want it to be?"

The corner of his lips raise at your statement. You were right. For both you and him, what you want is almost never what you can get. "Either way," he shrugged.

"Well," you paused. You knew you were stalling, but you didn't really know what to say. "I guess... there was a time when I used to want the normal life. You know - a partner, kids, a lakeside house with a nice backyard, maybe a dog."

"What kind of dog?" he asked suddenly, distracting you.

"Oh, uhm, I like German Shepherds."

He smiled, "I like them too."

That one remark was enough to make your imagination run wild. He likes them too, he said. What must it be like to be with Steve, to live in a lakeside house with him? Enough, you quickly reminded yourself, stop before you get hurt.

You must have been staring at him then, because he casted a gentle glance at you, saying, "Keep going."

You found yourself continuing with more ease, "I never really had a whole family. Only lived with my parents for a time, didn't have any siblings. So when - if, and that's a big if - I do have kids, I'd want more than one. So they would always have each other, you see."

When you looked back at him, his blue eyes were arresting, almost like they're boring right into you. Captain America is trying to get a good read on you, and you feel like you're laid bare before him. But it's not a discomforting feeling.

Maybe it's just the effect Steve has on people. Or maybe it's you. You weren't ready to accept just how much you already took a liking to the Captain America. You just knew - it would not end well.

These things never do.

But then he said, "When you do manage to have all of that, will you send me a postcard? Let me know how you are?"

Your smile widened at his sincerity. He wasn't just playing along, indulging in what you think are just delusions. He actually meant it. "Steve, you'll always be welcome at our lakeside house, you know."

"Our?" he smirked.

"Yeah, well," you leaned back at his implication, but his expression is enough to warm you all over. "I... I meant, mine and my partner's or... mine and my dog's, I don't really know - "

He laughed lowly, the sound hearty and deep in his chest. "I understand what you mean," he said, before adding, "although, I definitely wouldn't mind sharing a lakeside house with you."

"And my dog," you added jokingly, but your pulse had already quickened.

He nodded, but he wasn't finished. "Could be my dog, too." You don't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that he didn't say, and our kids. Grateful, you decided. It had to be that. You were getting too ahead of yourself.

You agreed, playing along, "As long as I get to name him."

"Of course, doll."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The 1950s, two months after Steve's arrival

Steve decides that he would get a dog.

It's about time, he believes. He's always wanted to do so anyway, and what better time than now, when he is settled in a good home base with a lot of backyard space for the dog to roam around.

He wants to get a German Shepherd, and it's fine, because Peggy does not really have a preference.

It is the evening before he is scheduled to visit the animal shelter, when Peggy asks him if he has decided on a name for the dog.

He startles at that, looking up from his plate. He barely registers her hand that has been caressing his own throughout dinner. Steve, being Steve, immediately feels ashamed at how he doesn't seem to be present and appreciating the moment.

"Have you thought of a name?" Peggy tries again.

A name, he ponders. No, he always thought he would leave it up to you.

"I'll figure it out," he says after a while, taking Peggy's hand and bringing it to his lips.

Everything will be perfect.

Read part three here.

taglist: @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan

caution: this is will be the slowest burn, and even MORE angsty when things come to a head.

the next chapter will be from the reader's POV and how she's coping...

Are all of these dog shenanigans alluding to how the reader will walk Stevie boy like a dog??? *evil, maniacal laugh*

Taglist still open!

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #chris evans #the avengers #captain america #mcu

[sixosix]

a/n both my latest fics r about cold can u tell that i’m trying to manifest it

warnings none! fluff, highschool au, ooc reo i think, wc 500

it is unfortunate that you are seated directly under the ceiling cassette aircon on the same day—the one day—you decided that bringing a jacket would be unnecessary. with the way you are trembling and feeling as though all your limbs have turned into ice speaks volumes of your deep regret.

you envy your classmates already borrowing hoodies from each other, eyeing them as they snuggle into their seats. specifically, your seatmate, who is making a clear point in sighing contentedly every time you glance at her sweater-clad way.

the squeak of nearly-dry markers scrawling on the whiteboard only serves to irritate your already sour mood—here you are, cold, pissed off, and dying.

“does anyone know the answer?” your teacher asks, and the hands raised give you a chance to peek at your phone and notice someone has messaged you.

reo come out rq

reo hi just peek outside please

it was sent ten minutes ago. you suddenly feel an impending sense of doom.

“that’s correct. can someone explain why we should not consider the claim— who is knocking?”

mikage reo’s head pops out from the door, a feigned sheepish smile on his face. “sorry to disturb you, ma’am, i just want to give this to y/n,” he says, showing off the thick jacket in his hand, and without even scanning the entire room, his eyes zero in on you immediately.

mortification settles in on you when everyone’s wide-eyed gazes shift over to your trembling figure.

standing up and feeling like you’re dying a little inside, you head over to the door, glaring at reo while your back is turned in on the baffled audience. with a swift turn, you pull reo by the sleeve and drag him outside of the classroom. the door slams shut.

“thank you, reo,” you dryly laugh, taking the jacket. then added in a frantic whisper, “in the middle of math class? really?”

reo smiles, all teeth and adorable sappiness. “in the middle of math class. really,” he affirms. “passed by your class and saw you shivering. and you weren’t replying, so me, wonderful as i am, did what i had to do.”

you’re not wearing it on your person yet, but with the way reo’s leaning closer, arms snaking around your waist, you feel the heat seep into your body like flames licking up your skin. it burns the most on your cheeks, and reo’s eyes hone in on it like a man on a mission.

belatedly, you realize the position you’re in—reo all but pinning you to the wall, arms on your waist, your back pressed up against the surface—and how this must look to bypassers. “don’t do this here! we’re literally in a hallway.”

“it’s fine,” reo grins sharply,  “everyone’s in class.”

“yeah, so why are you here?”

he huffs, nuzzling his face into your neck, his breath on your skin. you shiver, and you feel his smile. “you won’t like it when i say i missed you even though it’s the truth.”

“i’m glad you know me so well.”

and you know, that even when you go back inside the room without wearing his stupid little jacket, you’d still feel all warm inside, the ghost of his kiss burning deep.

#606:BLLK #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage x you #x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo imagines #mikage reo fluff #bllk fanfic #blue lock fluff #reo fluff

[scuderiahoney]

🍓 the 1 // a strawberry wine blurb

you all asked for a strawberry wine blurb, and so here we are- the blurb that made @theemporium put me in the doghouse. sorry in advance, enjoy this very non canon alternate ending to Empty Space

In the car, in a parking lot somewhere in Monaco, you turn to Daniel in the seat next to you and drop his hand. He’s just offered to take you to Max.

“Can you take me to my friend Audrey’s?” You ask quietly. “I can give you directions.”

His face drops. Your heart is sinking. You think his might be too. He says your name, softly, and you know. This could be your last chance. If you don’t go to Max now, Daniel is going to tell him that he gave you the choice, and you said no. Max has tried twice already, has extended the olive branch and the white flag. He brought your favorite dinner to your apartment, he found you on the rooftop patio and begged you to talk to him. He won’t keep reaching out. It’s unfair for you to expect that.

You swallow tightly and close your eyes. “Please, Danny. Take me to Audrey’s.”

He does, though he seems less than thrilled about it. When he pulls into the parking lot, he pauses one last time and stares at you. There’s this deep sadness in his eyes, matching the feeling in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” he answers.

You fall onto Audrey’s couch when you get up to her flat and cry yourself to sleep. You wonder if Max is doing the same across town, or if he’s already past this stage. You feel a sense of impending doom.

Four days later, he calls you. When you don’t answer, he texts. We need to talk. Your world drops out from under you.

You meet him at your shared apartment, knowing it’ll likely be the last time you share anything with him. You feel numb the whole drive there, and the walk up to the front door too. Max is standing in the kitchen, pouring water into two glasses from a pitcher. His face is blank. Something heavy settles on your chest, like a tight weight across you.

You stand across the kitchen from him. It’s like neither of you feel like you’re allowed to sit down. For a moment, you just stare at him. You should just tell him what’s been eating you up inside. Why you asked for a break in the first place, why you feel like you’re falling apart. But you think it’s a lost cause, now. He’s made his mind up. You pushed him to that point.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice so so loud in the silent apartment. “I…”

He nods slowly. “I am too.”

It’s not a hopeful apology. You don’t even think he’s apologizing for what’s happened. He’s apologizing for what he’s about to do.

He rubs his thumb against the counter. “I can’t keep doing this, you know. I agreed to space, and a break. But it’s been over a month now. And I…”

He scoffs, shakes his head. He’s not looking at you, staring at the countertop. You wish you could tell what he was feeling- normally, he’s an open book. Now he’s a blank slate. You feel unsteady on your feet, like the room is swaying.

“I love you,” he says, and your stomach lurches. “And I thought you loved me but you won’t even tell me what’s going on, you won’t talk to me-“

“I do love you,” you insist.

He looks up at you, and finally, you see it- just a flash of anger. “This isn’t love. You might feel it but you’re not showing it.”

You shrink in on yourself and shove your hands in your pockets. You have this awful urge to get angry right back, to yell and fight and claw tooth and nail to hold on. Because maybe fighting would mean this isn’t a lost cause.

He interrupts you when you open your mouth. “I don’t want to argue.”

You blink. “What if I do?”

He shakes his head. “It’s a little late.”

Your ribs are caving in, you swear. Shame burns bright in your stomach. You stare at the man you love and realize you’ve hurt him more than you ever could’ve imagined. Max forgives, always. He gives second and third chances. But you’ve fucked it up so badly that you used them all up.

“I can… explain. I know I won’t change your mind but-“ you shrug. “If you want.”

He shakes his head again, brow set in a hard line. “I don’t need to know what was wrong to know that we could’ve gotten through it. Together.”

You cast your gaze to the ground, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You hear his slow, soft footsteps. He makes his way towards you, and you grow more tense with every inch he gains. His feet come into your field of vision. He’s wearing the slippers you bought him for Christmas. An ache swirls through you. Things were good, then.

He reaches a tentative hand out and cups the side of your face. When you don’t pull away, he tilts your head up towards his.

“I do love you,” he says, warmer than you deserve. “And I hope that whatever is going on, you figure it out, because I hate to see you like this. But I can’t… I…”

You search his eyes for a sliver of something, anything. You don’t find it. And that’s when you decide. You’ve fucked this all up, but you can save him this one bit of agony. So you reach up, wrap your hand around his wrist gently, and bite the bullet.

“I think we should break up,” you say, though the alarm bells are ringing in your head. “I’m sorry, I-“

“It’s okay,” he says, thumb brushing across your cheek. “It’s okay.���

He kisses you one last time, his hand cradling your face, his nose against yours. You try to memorize the feeling, try to burn it into your brain. You rub your thumb against the soft skin of the inside of his wrist and wish you could go back in time.

He doesn’t cry. Neither do you. Not until after you’ve left, after you’ve stumbled back to your car in the parking garage. Then you collapse against the steering wheel and bawl your eyes out. This is what it feels like, to lose the one person you love the most. It’s an ugly feeling, one that turns you inside out and upside down. Like you’re falling through a bottomless pit, waiting to hit the ground. You cry until you’re all out of tears, and then you call Audrey to pick you up, because your hands are shaking so badly that you can’t get the key in the ignition.

There will be things to figure out, of course. The apartment is in both of your names, the things inside it are shared. But right now you both need space. Funny, it’s all you thought you wanted, and now you have it in excess. You have space from him, forever.

….

It tears you apart.

But eventually, as all things do, it dulls. It’ll never really go away, you suppose- the pain you feel when you think of him, or your apartment, of strawberries and the million other things that remind you of him. But it goes from a deep stabbing pressure to an ache that you can live with.

You move- as far from Monaco as you can possibly get. You got a job offer, and everything in Monaco was Max, so you took the opportunity and ran. You build a new life on the other side of the world, in a city where not everyone knows about F1 and Max Verstappen and all the rest of it, too. You move forward.

Max does too. You see it from afar, hear about it from your friends. There are times you think of reaching out to congratulate him, or even just to check in. But you think about an unanswered text, or a changed number, or even a girlfriend of his seeing it, and you never send the message. He probably doesn’t want to hear from you anyways. If he did, he’d have reached out.

You and Max just aren’t the type of exes who are meant to be friends.

The day you hear he’s engaged, you break down into tears and spend the next 48 hours locked in your bedroom.

When you hear they called off the wedding, you finally call him. You’re not sure he’ll answer, or if he even has the same number, but you have to try. It rings and rings, and then-

“Hello?”

a/n: sorry I promise they’re married this didn’t happen it was all just a dreammmmm

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

#yesterday: posts the wedding today: posts angst #sorryyyyyy #strawberry wine verse #max verstappen angst #max verstappen series #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 angst #formula 1 fic #formula 1 series #f1 fic #x reader #mv33

[doumadono]

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, fem!reader, viking themes, seer!Mirko, blood

Summary: the Earl sought counsel from the seer, seeking guidance after Shoto's proposition to send him and Touya on a mission to the north. Concerned about the rumors surrounding the mission, you resolved to extract information directly from Shoto

Word count: circa 6.5k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT III - SEEKING ANSWERS

The cold winds of late autumn swept through the rugged hills as earl Endeavor rode toward the dwelling of the renowned seer, Mirko. His thoughts were consumed by the intriguing proposition his youngest son, Shoto, had presented regarding a land rich in goods. The idea of sending his eldest son, Touya, to oversee this promising territory crossed the earl's mind, a strategic move that could secure his settlement's prosperity.

Upon reaching Mirko's abode, the atmosphere seemed to change. The air grew thick with an otherworldly aura, and the eerie silence made the settlement's seer even more intimidating. Mirko was a young woman with a fearsome reputation, her presence alone sending shivers down the spines of those who sought her guidance. Mirko was not beautiful in the conventional sense; her appearance held an unsettling allure. Long, wild locks framed her face, and her eyes, intense and piercing, seemed to hold secrets of both past and future. Tribal markings adorned her skin, marking her as a conduit to the spiritual realm.

Earl Endeavor, a man hardened by battles and strategic decisions, felt a twinge of uncertainty as he approached the seer.

Mirko's dwelling, draped in dark fabrics and adorned with symbols, exuded an aura of mysticism. She welcomed him with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "My lord," she spoke, her voice a haunting melody, "what brings you to seek the guidance of the unseen?"

Endeavor hesitated momentarily before speaking. "I come seeking counsel, Mirko. My youngest son has spoken of a land rich in goods. I contemplate sending my eldest, Dabi, to oversee it. What do you foresee in the tapestry of fate?"

Mirko, seated in the midst of her mystical domain, gestured for Endeavor to sit.

Endeavor unfolded his plan, explaining the potential prosperity and influence this land could bring. "I intend to send Dabi to ensure our dominance over this territory. What do your visions reveal?"

The air thickened with an unspoken power, and her haunting hums echoed through the room. The earl observed, a sense of unease settling over him as he witnessed the seer's transformation.

Her eyes closed, Mirko began to sway rhythmically, her body guided by an unseen force. The haunting melody of her hums intensified, creating an otherworldly atmosphere within the sacred space.

Endeavor found himself being on the precipice of something beyond his understanding.

Her voice carried a spectral melody, and the room seemed to pulse with an unseen heartbeat. Mirko's eyes, still closed, painted visions of impending doom with her words.

"In darkness veiled, the land awaits, Echoes of sorrow, at destiny's gates. A wolf, fierce, prowls in the night, A dance with death, a sinister delight."

The seer's hands moved gracefully through the air, as if conducting an unseen symphony of fate. Her words painted vivid images of a land consumed by shadows and the imminent clash between two primal forces.

"An eagle, majestic and bold, Descends from heights, its destiny foretold. A battle fierce, 'neath the moonlit gleam, In shadows cast, where spirits teem."

The eagle and wolf, symbols of opposing forces, danced in the tapestry of Mirko's vision. The room echoed with the weight of her words, each rhyme a forewarning etched in the annals of fate.

"Blood on feathers, and darkness entwined, A struggle unfolds, destinies aligned. In the land cursed, where choices are made, The echo of battle, in shadows will fade."

"What does it mean?!" The earl growled loudly. "Tell me, now!"

As Mirko's body moved, a voice emerged from her lips, yet it seemed detached, as if another entity spoke through her. The words, laden with an eerie resonance, foretold a grim fate awaiting those who ventured into the land Shoto had spoken of. "The path you tread is bathed in blood, earl Endeavor. Death dances upon the horizon, and shadows darker than the night itself await those who dare to grasp the threads of destiny."

Endeavor felt a chill coursing through him. Mirko's words seemed like a macabre prophecy, a dire warning wrapped in a melody that resonated with the spirits of the unseen.

"Blood will stain the soil, and death will be the echo that reverberates through the ages. The spirits speak of a land cursed by the choices of the living," Mirko continued, her voice carrying the weight of the ethereal.

Endeavor, despite his stoic exterior, couldn't shake the disquiet settling in his chest. Mirko, in her trance, spoke as if guided by forces beyond mortal comprehension. The grim portrait she painted clashed with the earl's visions of conquest and prosperity.

As Mirko's humming reached a haunting crescendo, she opened her eyes, the once vacant gaze now piercing through the fabric of fate. The trance lifted, leaving the seer standing before Endeavor, a conduit between the living and the unseen.

"The spirits have spoken, my lord. The path ahead is shrouded in darkness, and the choices you make will echo through the very essence of time," Mirko uttered, her words lingering in the air like an unspoken decree from the spirits themselves.

Endeavor leaned forward, his expression stern. "Speak plainly, Mirko."

Mirko's voice carried a weight beyond the present. "The flames may consume not only the intended but all who stand too close. Choices shape destinies," the woman replied mysteriously.

Endeavor emerged from Mirko's dimly lit hut, the weight of her prophecy hanging in the air like a shroud of uncertainty. The pale light of the moon bathed the settlement nearby in an eerie glow as the earl took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Silence enveloped him, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Endeavor closed his eyes, reflecting on the words Mirko had spoken. Despite the foreboding visions, a resolute determination burned within him. He knew the risks, but the allure of wealth and power beckoned him forward.

Turning to Mirko, he offered a nod of gratitude. "Thank you for your insights, Mirko. May the spirits guide us through the shadows." As a token of appreciation, Endeavor gently took Mirko's palm in his hands and pressed a grateful kiss upon it.

The seer's eyes, still veiled in the mystery of her visions, met his with a knowing gaze.

Mounting his horse, Endeavor set forth, determined to confront the future that awaited him. The night held its breath as Endeavor rode back to the settlement, a lone figure against the canvas of the darkened landscape. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but the ember of ambition burned brightly within him, lighting the path toward the destiny he sought.

Dabi sat in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, his presence almost like a shadow against the flickering candlelight. The rhythmic sound of a whetstone against his sword filled the air, a comforting repetition that matched the beat of his troubled thoughts.

The raucous atmosphere of the tavern buzzed around him, but the glances thrown his way were not ones of admiration or desire. The courtesans, usually attentive to potential patrons, seemed to cast him disgusted looks. Even though he was the heir to the earldom, the one who would sit on the throne after his father's eventual passing, they all were disgusted by him. His status brought him no favors in this realm of longing and fleeting connections.

Dabi's eyes occasionally flickered across the room, catching those disdainful glares. He couldn't deny the sharp pang in his chest — a mix of frustration and a longing for a connection he had been denied for so long. He had grown accustomed to rejection, so much so that he had stopped actively seeking companionship. Still, the yearning for the warmth and softness of a woman's touch lingered, a desire he had learned to bury deep within.

As he took a swig of ale, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the bitterness that had settled in his heart. Dabi continued to polish his sword, the repetitive motion a way to distract himself from the disapproving looks that haunted him. In the midst of the crowded tavern, he remained a solitary figure, surrounded by people but untouched by the warmth of human connection.

The loud thud echoed through the quiet walls of the Great Hall, jolting you awake from your shallow slumber. Concern etched across your face as you rushed out of the room you shared with Hilda, following the source of the commotion. The dimly lit corridor led you to Dabi's chamber, where you found him struggling to regain his balance, a victim of the ale's intoxicating effects.

"Easy there," you said, your voice soft but laced with genuine concern. "Need a hand?"

Dabi looked up at you, his turquoise eyes momentarily clouded with confusion before recognition set in. He grunted in agreement, accepting your offered help. Together, you steadied him, and he leaned against the wall for support. The flickering light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on both of you, creating an unexpected intimacy in that late-night encounter.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his usual aloofness momentarily giving way to a hint of vulnerability. The moment was fleeting, but it lingered in the air as you helped him back into his chamber.

You assisted Touya onto his bed. The warmth of the hearth seemed to soften the edges of the usually stern and enigmatic man. However, as you turned to leave, his hand shot out, gently grasping your wrist. When you met his eyes, you were met with a vulnerability that seemed to pierce through his usual façade.

"Stay," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of desperation.

You hesitated. The rules that governed your roles in this Viking settlement were clear, and getting too close to someone of higher standing could invite trouble. Yet, the sadness in his eyes and the unspoken plea tugged at your empathy.

"I… I shouldn't," you started, but he tightened his grip ever so slightly.

"Please," he whispered, his tone a mixture of loneliness and longing.

In that moment, you found it difficult to resist. Against your better judgment, you stayed, settling on a bed beside him. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Touya's eyes never left yours.

The room was shrouded in shadows, and the warmth of the fire seemed to cocoon you and Touya in a fragile bubble of shared vulnerability.

With a hesitant yet genuine smile, Touya broke the silence. "Tell me about your homeland," he requested, his eyes showing a glimmer of curiosity.

His request hung in the air like a delicate thread, and you couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh before responding. "You want to hear about the place you tore me away from? Like a flower ripped out of the life-giving soil?" Your words held a weight, a mix of resentment and sorrow.

Touya met your gaze, his expression carrying the burden of understanding the pain he had caused. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and sincere.

In the flickering glow of the fire, you began to weave a tale of your homeland. Your words painted a vivid picture of quaint cottages with thatched roofs, their walls weathered by the salty breeze that swept in from the sea. The narrow cobblestone streets echoed with the laughter of children playing and the rhythmic sounds of craftsmen honing their skills. "Near the shore, where the cliffs stood tall and proud, we built a small chapel—a haven of solace and prayer. Its stone walls echoed with hymns, and the air was filled with the scent of incense," you recounted, your voice carrying the nostalgia of a place left behind.

As you spoke, Touya's piercing eyes remained fixed on you, absorbing every detail of this distant world he never truly understood. The contrast between the harsh Viking settlements and the idyllic Christian village seemed stark.

"The coastline, painted in hues of blue and gray, witnessed the ebb and flow of tides. Fishing boats set sail at dawn, their sails billowing in the morning breeze, while the cliffs provided a vantage point for the villagers to gaze upon the vast horizon," you continued.

Touya's features softened as he envisioned the serene landscape you described, a world far removed from the tumultuous life he had known. Touya's eyes closed, a faint smile gracing his lips as he absorbed the essence of your words. "You must have been missing the place ever since," he pointed out, the words carrying a gentle understanding of the yearning that comes with reminiscing about a home left behind.

You nodded quietly, the flames of a fireplace reflecting in your eyes. "Indeed. The memories are like whispers of a distant melody, a reminder of a life that once was. I can almost feel the salt-laden wind against my face, hear the distant hymns in the chapel. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I close my eyes and pretend I'm back there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home."

Touya's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression, as the echoes of your quiet sobbing reached his ears. He opened his eyes, and there he found you, tears streaming down your cheeks, your gaze fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

His heart constricted with an unexpected ache. A flicker of empathy illuminated his usually guarded gaze.

"But it is all gone. All gone. You and your people took everything from me. And now I'm here, locked in a cage of a shadow of something once called life. Apparently, this was God's plan for me," your voice carried a weight of bitterness and sorrow.

His gaze softened as he watched you, the firelight casting shadows on your tear-streaked face. "Gods have their own way of weaving destinies, entangling lives in threads that stretch across time and space. Perhaps, just perhaps, there's a reason our paths crossed in this tumultuous journey."

You gave Touya a searching look, the flickering firelight dancing in your eyes, and asked, "What do you mean? Why would the God bring me here, to this… place of captivity?"

Touya looked at you with a glint of intensity in his eyes. "Our gods are different, you know. Freya, Odin, they're not like your Christian God. They're not confined to a single doctrine. They're free, just like the wind that sweeps through these icy lands. And I believe, with all my heart, that the Allfather sent me to your village for a reason, and that reason was you."

You couldn't help but snort at his words. "You're drunk, Touya. Those gods of yours aren't guiding anything. I'm here because of the whims of men, not gods."

Touya locked eyes with you, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken emotions. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer until there was barely any space between you. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You're beautiful."

His breath sent shivers down your spine, and before you could fully comprehend his words, his lips boldly found yours. Shock coursed through you at the unexpected kiss, your first taste of such intimacy. The heavy scent of alcohol lingered on his tongue, but amidst the surprise, you felt a strange warmth. You hesitated at first, unsure of how to respond, but the gravity of the moment pulled you in.

As the kiss continued, you found yourself brushing your lips against his, a hesitant exploration of uncharted territory. The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, bearing witness to a connection that transcended the roles you were assigned in this harsh world.

The following day, Endeavor summoned Dabi to his side, his face stern and determined. The air in the room felt heavy with an unspoken gravity as Dabi approached his father. "Touya," Endeavor began, his voice cutting through the silence, "I have a mission for you."

Dabi's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and apprehension. "What kind of mission?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Endeavor.

Endeavor's eyes bore into his son's, revealing a mix of authority and expectation. "You, Shoto, and a selected group of warriors, including Hawks, will be sent to the northern part of Sweden. There's a land there with potential, rich in resources. It's time to expand our influence, and you're crucial to this endeavor."

Dabi nodded, acknowledging the weight of the task ahead. The mention of Shoto and Hawks in the same mission stirred a sense of unease, but he kept his emotions in check. "Understood," he replied, his tone resolute.

Endeavor continued to lay out the details of the mission, his plans unfolding as a complex web of politics, power, and strategy.

Little did Dabi know that this journey would lead to unforeseen challenges, testing not only his strength as a warrior but also the bonds that held his family together.

Hilda approached you with a furrowed brow, a concerned expression etched across her features. The flickering light of the torches in the chamber cast shadows that danced upon the walls as she spoke. "Y/N, I need to talk to you," she said in a hushed tone.

You looked up, sensing the seriousness in her voice. "What is it, Hilda?" you asked, your eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and apprehension.

She took a moment before responding, choosing her words carefully. "I think I just need a listening ear. Touya is going on another mission. But what worries me more is that Shoto, his younger brother, is being sent alongside him."

You furrowed your brows, recognizing the tension between the two brothers. "Isn't that a cause for concern? They don't exactly get along, do they?"

Hilda nodded solemnly. "No, they don't. The earl's decision to send them together is raising suspicions. It's a risky move, and I fear it might not bode well for the stability of the mission."

Concern etched across your face as you contemplated the potential consequences of such a decision. The dynamics between the two brothers were already strained, and sending them on a mission together seemed like a recipe for conflict. Hilda's worry mirrored your own, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on both your minds.

You finished brushing your hair, the strands flowing smoothly through the comb. The flickering candlelight in your chamber created a soft ambiance, but your thoughts were far from the present moment. Hilda's words echoed in your mind, and the worry for Touya settled like a heavy stone in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to Hilda, who was quietly arranging some furs in a corner of the room. "Hilda," you began hesitantly, "is there really nothing we can do for Touya? I can't shake off this feeling of unease."

Hilda paused, her gaze meeting yours. The lines on her face spoke of years of experience and wisdom. "Y/N, sometimes the currents of fate are beyond our control. All we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. Right now, the best course is to stay vigilant and hope for the best."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The unpredictable nature of the situation left you feeling powerless, and it frustrated you. "But what if something happens to him? What if Shoto…"

Hilda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We can't predict the future, dear. All we can do is be prepared for whatever comes our way. Keep an eye on the situation, and if there's an opportunity to help, we'll take it. For now, focus on your tasks and be vigilant."

You sighed, acknowledging the wisdom in her advice.

Hilda observed you with a shrewd gaze, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. As you finished your nightly routine and settled onto the furs, she couldn't help but voice the question that lingered in her mind. "Y/N," the woman began, her voice gentle yet probing, "forgive me if I overstep, but your interactions with Touya have been minimal. Why this sudden concern for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering your words carefully. The truth was, your initial reservations about Dabi were not baseless, but something about Touya's vulnerability had stirred a different emotion within you. You looked at Hilda, deciding to share a part of your thoughts. "I may not like him, but I can't shake off the feeling that there's more to Touya than what meets the eye. The way he spoke about his past, about losing everything, it resonated with me. It's not pity, Hilda, but a sense of understanding, maybe empathy. And now, knowing he's going on this dangerous mission alongside Shoto, it's hard to ignore the worry."

Hilda's smirk widened as she spoke, her eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "Oh, my dear, I can see your cheeks flushing when you speak about him so fondly. You're having a crush, am I right?"

Hilda's smirk didn't go unnoticed, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Her teasing words struck a nerve, and a flicker of irritation danced in your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hilda. It's just concern for a fellow human being," you retorted, your tone defensive.

Hilda chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Concern, my dear, often wears a different face. There's no shame in admitting you care for him. After all, this world is full of unexpected twists, isn't it?"

You pursed your lips, attempting to maintain composure. Deep down, you knew there was a kernel of truth in Hilda's words. The concern for Touya had indeed taken a different form, and your heart acknowledged a connection that transcended mere worry. Yet, admitting it to yourself felt like navigating uncharted waters.

Ignoring Hilda's knowing gaze, you turned away, feigning disinterest. But within, a storm of conflicting emotions raged, and you couldn't deny the impact Touya had made on your guarded heart.

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning in your simple bed, a peculiar yet potentially useful idea began to form in your mind. The notion of extracting information from Shoto about his plans took root, and you found yourself contemplating the details of how to execute this risky but potentially advantageous scheme.

The flickering light of the dim chamber barely illuminated your face as you hatched a plan to subtly and strategically approach Shoto. The urgency of the situation and the looming mission compelled you to consider taking matters into your own hands, even if it meant navigating the treacherous waters of deceit. With a determined resolve, you prepared yourself mentally for the intricate dance of conversation that lay ahead.

In your best dress, adorned with the finest that could be salvaged among the thralls, you made your way to the tavern after learning from Natsuo that Shoto was seen going out with a warrior named Hawks. As you stepped out, the cool breeze of the late afternoon caressed your face, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

Arriving at the tavern, you could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking mugs seeping through the wooden door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open, revealing the warm, dimly lit interior. The air was thick with the scent of ale and the low hum of conversations. You scanned the room, finally spotting Shoto and Hawks in a corner, engaged in a conversation.

Shoto's two-colored hair caught the wavering light as he raised his tankard in a toast. "To power and the thrill of the hunt," he declared with a smirk, taking a long swig.

Hawks leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.

The duo seemed engrossed in conversation, their laughter mingling with the low hum of the tavern. Female thralls, drawn by their presence, attempted to engage in conversation, but the exchanges were marked by a darkness that hinted at their underlying intentions. Shoto and Hawks were having fun in the company of two thralls with exotic features that hinted at a southern origin. The air was charged with an unmistakable tension as the men engaged in flirtatious banter.

One of the thralls, feigning coyness, asked, "What brings you to our humble company tonight?"

Shoto, with a sly grin, leaned in to the thrall seated by his side, and said, "Oh, just the usual – seeking a bit of warmth in this frigid place. Perhaps you ladies could provide some, hmmm?" He mused, running his hand up and down the girl's shoulder.

The other thrall, playing along, responded, "Warmth, you say? Well, you might need to work hard to earn that from us."

Shoto frowned a little, yet his voice stayed low and smooth, "You seem to be unaware of my position, woman. I am the heir to earl Endeavor, and I demand that you address me with the respect befitting my status," he forcefully grabbed the other woman by her shoulder, causing her to tumble off her chair and land on the floor next to him. "So, I suggest you watch your manners, for I am the best you can find in this establishment. Consider your words carefully before opening that foolish mouth of yours next time."

Hawks nodded in agreement, "Indeed, the gentleman here is right. Shoto, don't scare the lady."

The conversations continued in this bold and wry manner, each word dripping with innuendo as the men skillfully navigated the delicate dance of desire. The atmosphere in the tavern buzzed with anticipation as the thralls played their part in the seductive exchange, the one that previously ended on the floor now sat quietly, letting Hawks wrap his strong arms around her shoulders as his hand was playing with her breasts from time to time.

Summoning your courage, you approached them, the rhythmic thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. As you drew nearer, you caught Shoto's eye, and a subtle smirk crept onto his face. Hawks, on the other hand, eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The atmosphere shifted as you prepared to enter a world of alliances and secrets, uncertain of what the outcome might be.

"Well, well, what brings you to this den of sin all alone? Where's your precious Touya? Couldn't keep up with his demands?" the youngest Endeavorson taunted, his tone laced with amusement.

You brushed off his wry remark. "I think it's time for us to bury the hatchet. Our relationship didn't start on the best note, and I believe we can find a way to coexist peacefully."

He looked at you, seemingly surprised by your suggestion. Shoto considered your words, and after a moment, he offered you a seat with them.

Throughout the interaction, Hawks observed the scene. You gave him a brief smile, trying to maintain a cool demeanor in the company of the two men.

Shoto turned to you with an air of faux politeness, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I believe we can have a civilized conversation, don't you?" His eyes darted towards the thrall who had been seated beside him, and with a dismissive gesture, he uttered, "You, leave us."

The thrall shot you a cold glance before complying with Shoto's request and vacating the space.

Now alone, Shoto leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "There, much better. Now, let's chat, shall we?"

You took a deep breath before speaking, "I must admit, despite the fear you instill within me, there's a certain charisma about you. It's hard not to notice."

Shoto's grin widened, appreciating the acknowledgment. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. And by the way, I quite like your accent. It adds a certain charm." His compliment was laced with a hint of mischief as he reached his hand out to briefly rub your shoulder.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Shoto's hand landed on your shoulder. Suppressing a wince, you decided to play along with his casual demeanor. When he asked about the real reason for your visit, you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, I just wanted to get to know you a little better, my lord."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, considering your words. "Interesting choice of words. Here, have some mead." He poured some into a wooden mug and handed it to you, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You accepted, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

Hawks, with a twinkle in his golden eyes, couldn't help but comment, "Quite a beauty you have here, Shoto. Earl Endeavor's thralls are indeed a treasure."

Shoto, taking a sip of his mead, glanced at you and replied wryly, "All Christian women have this softness within them. I just happen to enjoy breaking it." His words were delivered with a certain darkness that sent a chill down your spine.

Trying to maintain composure, you played along, responding with a forced smile, as you looked at Shoto's companion, "Well, thank you for the compliment, sir."

As Shoto continued to drink, you couldn't shake off the unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As more mugs of mead were emptied by the men and the atmosphere in the tavern grew warmer, you mustered the courage to bring up the topic that had been gnawing at your thoughts. Leaning in, you addressed Shoto, "Forgive me for intruding, but I overheard that you and Touya are going on a mission. Is it true?"

Shoto's eyes, a mix of icy determination and something unreadable, met yours. He took a moment, swirling the remnants of his mead in his mug before responding, "Yes, a mission to the north. Father believes it's a land rich in resources, and he wants us to secure it for the settlement."

Hawks, who had been listening attentively, chimed in, "Aye, a mission of great importance. The north can be treacherous, though. Many dangers await those who venture into the unknown."

You nodded, though a lingering concern for Touya flickered in your eyes. "What kind of dangers are you talking about? Is it just the harsh conditions of the north, or is there something else we should be aware of?"

Shoto's stoic expression betrayed little, leaving you to wonder about the true nature of the mission and what it might mean for both brothers.

Hawks took a sip from his mead, his golden eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and wariness. "The north is a wild place, full of untamed landscapes and creatures. Wolves, bears, and more roam freely. Not to mention, the weather can be brutal, especially this time of year."

Shoto's gaze never wavered as he observed your reaction to Hawks' nonchalant explanation.

You sensed there might be more to the story, but both men remained guarded in their responses.

Shoto's sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard, his hand landing on your knee with an unexpected boldness. He began to rub your knee casually, his gaze steady as he threw a question your way. "Let's change the topic, my dear. The ruggedness of our upcoming mission might be a bit too much for a delicate female mind like yours to comprehend," he remarked, his fingers tracing small circles on your knee, playing with the hems of your dress. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in, his tone low and almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, has my older brother had his way with you yet?"

You felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance at his audacity, but you tried to maintain composure. "That's none of your business, Shoto," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And the mission—"

"Oh, don't play coy," he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'm genuinely curious. After all, I'd hate for you to miss out on experiencing the full range of pleasures in our little settlement."

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, and you found yourself navigating the conversation with a mix of caution and defiance, unsure of where Shoto was leading with his intrusive inquiries.

You met Shoto's audacious question with a bold response. "No, my lord, I haven't been with anyone, ever," you asserted, trying to maintain a sense of control in the conversation.

Hawks chimed in with a cryptic comment, "Well, isn't that a rare treasure in these parts. A thrall with untouched cunny, how intriguing."

You shot a wary glance at Hawks, uncertain about the implications of his words.

Shoto, however, seemed more amused than surprised, his smirk widening as if he had expected such a revelation. "You're missing out on experiences, thrall. I could show you what it's like. I doubt my older brother knows how to please a woman. Look at him, covered in scars, a truly disgusting sight. No normal woman would willingly lie with such a damaged man."

You felt Shoto's hand sliding beneath the fabric of your dress, making your breath catch in your throat. His audacious suggestion hung in the air, and the atmosphere became charged with tension.

You pulled away, a mix of surprise and discomfort evident on your face. "Maybe… Nut I didn't have enough mead yet, my lord," you asserted, trying to maintain a semblance of control over the situation.

Shoto, undeterred, leaned in with a sly grin. "Afraid of a little adventure? I promise you, it'll be an experience you won't forget," he whispered, his mismatched eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

As Shoto poured another mug of mead for you, you discreetly took small sips, ensuring that the majority of the liquid found its way into Hawks' cup while the two men were engrossed in conversation. The effects of the mead were beginning to show on Shoto, but you remained clear-headed.

The conversation in the tavern continued, filled with laughter and raucous chatter. You observed Shoto's growing inebriation and wondered if this was the opportune moment to extract information about the mission.

As Shoto, in a visibly inebriated state, decided to make his way back to the Great Hall, Hawks was more than willing to accompany him. However, seizing the opportunity to gather more information, you stepped forward and offered to walk Shoto back on his behalf. Hawks, busy with the two other thralls he managed to lure, readily agreed.

With Shoto leaning on you for support, you began the journey back to the Great Hall. The night air was crisp, and the sound of distant revelry echoed through the settlement. As you walked, you subtly steered the conversation toward the mission, aiming to extract any valuable details Shoto might unwittingly reveal in his inebriated state. As Shoto stumbled beside you, you ventured to ask, "Shoto, why do you harbor such resentment toward Touya? It seems like there's a lot of tension between you two."

Shoto's response was punctuated by occasional hiccups, and he spoke with a slurred cadence, "Touya… he's always been the favorite. Father sees him as the rightful heir, even after he attempted on killing him… When he was a baby… I'm just… the spare. I've had to fight for every scrap of approval, every shred of acknowledgment. It's fucking infuriating."

His words were tinged with a mix of bitterness and vulnerability, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of their strained relationship.

Shoto's alcohol-laden breath hung in the night air as he delved deeper into the caverns of his animosity. His words spilled out, laced with venom and a fervent desire for retribution. "You see, Y/N… Touya has always been the golden child… Father dotes on him, oblivious to the struggles I faced. I fought tooth and nail, but in his eyes, I'm still the disappointment." His voice resonated with a toxic blend of envy and resentment. "I wish he'd disappear, fade away… It would be so much easier without him overshadowing me at every turn… Fucking Touya. Father might finally see my worth."

As he spoke, you couldn't help but sense the profound wounds that fueled Shoto's disdain for his older brother, wondering if there was any way to mend the frayed bonds between them.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the huge, wooden door to the Great Hall. In the dimly lit hallway, you guided Shoto with careful steps, avoiding any unnecessary noise. As you reached his chamber, the weight of your question hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "My lord… Do you plan to harm your older brother during this mission?"

He paused, his drunken demeanor momentarily overshadowed by a serious glint in his eyes. "Hurt him? No. But if fate has other plans for him, who am I to intervene?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if Shoto's words held any truth or if they were merely intoxicated ramblings. As you opened the door and let go of his waist, you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that there was more beneath the surface of his seemingly casual response. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across his face, adding an enigmatic air to the entire exchange.

The sudden force of Shoto's grip on your waist surprised you, and before you could react, his lips collided with yours in a messy, drunken kiss. The taste of mead lingered on his breath, making the encounter less pleasant than you might have imagined. You winced, feeling a mix of discomfort and confusion as the moment unfolded.

Shoto's hand slipped beneath your dress and moved up your leg, resting between your thighs. As he pulled away, his eyes were glazed, and he chuckled under his breath, resting his back against the wooden wall. "You're an interesting one, Y/N," he slurred, releasing his hold on you and stumbling into his chamber. "I'll make sure you're mine, not his." The door closed behind him, leaving you standing in the hallway, processing the unexpected exchange with your palm pressed against your mouth.

As you turned around, your heart sank, its rhythm momentarily disrupted - there, in the corridor, stood Touya. His expression held a mixture of surprise and shock as he observed you, and an unspoken tension hung in the air.

Touya's harsh words hung in the air, stinging like a bitter truth. "I can't believe you're like that, Y/N, letting my brother touch you this way. I thought you were different, not like every other thrall, but I guess I was wrong."

A lump formed in your throat as you desperately wanted to explain, to make him understand, but before you could utter a single word, Touya turned on his heel and left, the resounding crash of the door slamming shut echoing through the dimly lit corridor.

Now, you found yourself standing alone, the weight of his accusations settling in. The corridor seemed colder, lonelier in the aftermath of his anger. You replayed the scene in your mind, the hurt etched on Touya's face, the disappointment in his voice. It was a bitter cocktail of emotions that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The truth was, you never intended to betray or hurt Touya. You considered chasing after him, explaining that it wasn't as it seemed, that your intentions were never to betray him. But the finality of that slamming door weighed heavily on your shoulders.

A lone tear traced the contours of your cheek, a delicate testament to the waning emotions within. It was as if you had relinquished something profoundly vital, a precious fragment of your life slipping away, leaving behind a poignant void.

heathen wolves: @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot

#viking!Dabi #viking!Shoto #earl!Endeavor #dabi #touya todoroki #bnha dabi #dabi my hero academia #mha dabi #todoroki touya #dabi fanfic #touya imagine #touya #mha touya #bnha touya #bnha fanfiction #todoroki toya #toya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #shoto todoroki #endeavor #enji todoroki #dabi x y/n #natsuo todoroki #hawks #takami keigo #viking!Hawks #shoto x reader

[buckyarchives]

Metal arms and short skirts | Bucky Barnes. {4.}

summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

word count: 7.4k

author note: the way this chapter originally was 11k words… i had to cut it down a little and also kinda end it mid chapter and pick up next update? so it may seem like it ends weird? idk. also unfortunately Vivienne Westwood’s death was recently so i thought of to use her dress in the chapter to honor her :) enjoy reading. not beta’d (please i needs a beta reader) important! opening my inbox for drabble request since this series is coming to an end soon

warning: bucky’s self loathing (like usual tbh.), people being mean to bucky (making remarks about his trauma, specifically brain damage), creepy and annoying men.

outfit reference here

read on AO3 | masterlist

Bucky is convinced his life is just one sick joke, and whoever finds this funny— deserves death. his legs bounced wildly, eyes frantically checking the watch on his wrist. it was Steve’s, very expensive, not Bucky's type. the ticking was starting to annoy him, bucky wanted to smash it, then he wouldn't know how late you are.

the navy blue suit, Steve gave him that too, said it brings out his eyes. god- bucky was practically sweating through it, the night hasn’t started yet and he feels like he needs to change. he was overthinking, everyone keeps telling him. but there was a plan, 5 pm and after work, the common room down the hall to your lab. maybe it was just nerves, but it still didn’t excuse the impending doom settling in the bottom of bucky's stomach.

“James, it’s been 10 minutes,” Natasha spoke, dressed in a long black dress. she sat on the floor before a couch, wanda held a curling wand in Natasha's hair as she sat above her. bucky had tried to distract himself by watching the curls form, it was quite fascinating if he wasn’t so distant.

“she is probably just fashionably late, it would make sense,” Wanda said— which felt true. but you’ve never once been late because of your appearance before, bucky can't even think of a time you’ve been late for any reason.

frustrated, Bucky abruptly got up and ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. “hey! I am not going to reapply all the gel!” Wanda shouts and bucky's flinches, putting both of his hands to his side like a child obeying their mother.

“what if she doesn't want to be seen with me, you know- like, like that? what if after yesterday she changed her mind, oh my god. Nat, I can't do this.” Bucky rattled on. Natasha rolled her eyes to the back of her head.

“Stop with the what if” Natasha groaned, “she is not even that late.”

“Have you even tried to text her?” Wanda mentions.

Bucky stops pacing.

“you haven’t even called her?'' Natasha looks at Bucky like he's stupid, he feels stupid. “do you know who you are? what if something happened to her that would make her late?”

Bucky's face dropped, oh my god, what if something happened? Bucky doesn't feel stupid, he is stupid. he is the fucking winter soldier, and you’ve been out with him, something could totally happen to you. Bucky's breath hitched before he felt like he was choking on it, was this a panic attack? he can’t call you while having a panic attack, but you could be in danger.

Almost instantly, Bucky grabs his phone on the coffee table. his fingers stumble as he looks for your number, but just as his fingers hover over your name. a loud, annoying ring comes from Natasha’s phone. Bucky's head perks up so do all the heads in the room.

Natasha's eyebrows furrow, looking down at her phone. Wanda follows suit as she looks over her shoulder. “it’s Y/N?”

“pick up!” Wanda shouts.

Natasha taps on the phone, “hey, you oka-“

“no!” you shout from the other line, a matching panic in your voice. “no, I am not! I’ve cycled through like 12 dresses and I have like 3 more but I swear, I’m going to go to Versace or Mytheresa— I will fucking call Valentino right now if I have to.”

faintly, everyone heard the sound of fabric rustling, your heels echoing as you paced through your room, and your heavy breathing. panicking about your outfit.

“Hey, hey, y/n calm down.'' Natasha hushed, your faint rattling didn't stop as you continued on talking about some black dress that made you look bloated. “you don’t need to impulse spend 8k on a dress, don’t make a big deal out of this, you’ll look perfect.”

“But Bucky! What if he doesn't like it, or thinks I look fat, or if I'm trying too hard! or too little? ugh!” you groaned, screamed, and rattled. Bucky had half the mind to shout through the phone that he’d think you're perfect however you showed up. but Natasha knew him well and sent a glare that told him not to.

“I just- just, Natasha… I really like him, I don't want to mess this up.” you sighed in defeat. Bucky's heart surged out of his chest, his face felt hot. He just wanted to cradle you close and tell you everything was okay.

“y/n.” Natasha started, her voice stern. “what are you doing right now.”

the other line went silent for a moment. bucky can imagine your thinking face, eyes narrowed, and tugging your lip under your teeth. a sigh escapes your mouth. “I'm on the floor in my closet, trying not to back out or cry.”

“Just don’t back out, okay? I'll be over to help you, sounds good?”

a small sniffle that broke bucky’s heart, “yes.”

“Okay, don’t die of panicking.” Natasha finished, hanging up the phone with a sigh.

Bucky sank down onto the couch, raking his hand through his hair again despite Wanda's protest. letting out a heavy exhale.

you were safe, that’s really what matters. but you were also on the brink of crying, probably tearing through your closet like a mad woman just to appease bucky’s opinions. He felt like a dick.

Natasha sat still, staring at Bucky like she knew more, knew better. Bucky couldn’t read her.

“Are you going?” he said weakly.

“No,” Natasha said plainly, making her way towards Bucky and dragging him to his feet by his suit— before straightening Bucky out. from his suit to his hair, even smoothing the small nervous wrinkles on his forehead.

Natasha always felt like a sister to Bucky in this way. helping him, worrying for him, supporting him, and seemingly reluctantly saving him with Steve couldn't. They shared many painful experiences that brought them close. Natasha was always there for bucky.

“you are.”

“What?!”

Bucky stood dumbfounded, “you’re going to go over there. get her out of her head, pick a dress that makes her look like a fucking goddess, maybe one that matches yours. and make her feel beautiful.”

“I can’t-“

“Shut up, Barnes,” Wanda interjects, the same determination on her face as Natasha's. there was no way he was getting out of this. “go, or I'll make you.”

Bucky watched as Wanda conjured up the red ball of pure power in her hands, an empty threat; they already talked about using her powers for this reason. but enough to scare the shit out of Bucky and make him nod violently. almost to convince himself that he could go.

“go get your girl.” Natasha encouraged.

******

Somewhere between throwing dresses around and banging your head on your walk-in closet walls, you decided that it didn't matter that you weren't mid-age yet, this was a mid-life crisis. Never in your life have you second-guessed your judgment on what to wear, not even in the eyes of the greatest designers the world knows.

But here you sat, verge of tear on your floor. Piles building up around you of dresses, shoes, tights, et cetera, et cetera. You were practically drowning in silk, crepe, and chiffon. Moments ago you really had a dress, it fit perfectly and made your complexion glow, but then the thought of what Bucky would think made you spiral.

Honestly, you knew deep, deep down that he wouldn't care. A day ago he saw you covered in Sam Wilson's blood, so there was really only going up from there. You knew he was a good guy, not one to point out fat rolls on your back or if your stomach was bloated. But the female experience constantly sabotaged those positive thoughts and brought out the ‘what ifs’.

Natasha wasn't much help on the phone. She just spared you from spending your paycheck on another Valentino dress and told you to calm down. She'd be over in a few, you trusted her taste enough, at least you'd have a second opinion. she always looked good, but it was easy for her.

You didn’t think of yourself as an envious person, especially the looks or body category but it was hard in this fragile state of mind to not long for a widows physic.

The loud and echoing noise of your doorbell shook you from your thoughts, you had been spacing out. Throwing on the first piece of fabric you saw on the floor, a large dress shit? Sure, whatever, it was just Natasha. Another loud ring.

“Gimme a moment, Nat!” you shouted, seeing a flash of yourself in a full-sized mirror. you look pathetic, with black tights, a dress shirt, and hair lazily put in a claw. You were already late, how worse could it get?

Spoiler. Much worse. very, very worse.

Opening your front door abruptly, a spew of apologies and worries left your mouth before you could notice the lack of red hair. Eyes wide and mouth gaped, Bucky stood before you. And like the fucking pathetic idiot you are, before Bucky could get a word out, you slammed the door in his face with a high-pitched yelp. A hand flew to cover your mouth, to contain the groans and curse words directed at Natasha. Because of-fucking-course she’d do this.

A wave of guilt and mostly embarrassment washed over you before you could kick yourself more - you opened the door, again.

“I'm so sorry, bucky! I didn't mean to do that– you just surprised me.” the words stumbled over themself, a stuttering mess. You were an udder wreck, this is so embarrassing, you thought. Your voice rose a few octaves, almost certain your makeup had smudged off by now. “Wha- what are you doing here?”

“Nat sent me,” he spoke plainly, standing dumbfounded in your apartment hallway.

“Of course she did.” you cursed and gritted under your breath, words coming out harsher than intended. An unsure face washed over Bucky and he took a tiny step back.

“I can go if you’re uncomfortable.'' Bucky sounded small, it broke your heart.

“No! Please don’t, I'm just freaking out right now– not sure why.” you definitely knew why. Stopping in the middle of your sentence once you notice Bucky's attire. Experiencing whiplash at the sight of the slick, noticeably expensive navy suit he wore. You practically did a double take, blinking like an idiot as you looked him up and down. “Wow! You look great, like really great.”

“And you look…” Bucky's eye trailed up your body, his eyes landing on your face. “Perfect, as always.”

Maybe it was the stress, or nerves, but you were a flustered mess. Complements, embarrassment, running around crying– you shouldn't even try to imagine what you looked like.

“I just threw this on, I…” you noticed the way Bucky began fidgeting and shifting his feet, standing awkwardly with his gaze finding the apartment behind you. “I'm sorry! Come in, come in.”

Moving out of the way for Bucky and letting him in, his eyes travel to every corner, eyes wide in awe. Your apartment was more of the ‘rich, new york snob, with high ceilings and large windows.’ but it was still you and Bucky was taking it in.

Bucky hummed, finishing his look over of the front room and turning back to face you. Fuck, he looked so good, from head to toe, his hair was a little messy and you could see gel residue that made you want to pounce and fix it.

And you were so– a mess.

“I'm sorry for my appearance, I've been panicking and I'm so late, I didn't mean to make you late or worry. Gosh, my makeup is probably messy and–”

Bucky found himself right in front of you, tearing you from your rambling as he grabbed your face. Cradling your jaw in his palms as your eyes met his, wide and frantic. “Doll, stop apologizing, please. You'd done nothing wrong, you look perfect. Everything’s okay.'' Bucky spoke slowly, sure of himself and successfully bringing you back down. You breathed and nodded.

“Now, let me help you get dressed.”

You could kiss him right now if you had a slight nerve. Where did your confidence go all of a sudden?

Bucky must have read your mind, slightly. Pressing a kiss to your crown that made you lean into his hands, worries slowly leaving and almost forgetting about that stupid dress and gala.

Grabbing Bucky's hand with a giddy smile, pulling him into your room slash tornado mess of fabrics. And it showed on Bucky's face, a large huff left his mouth as he stopped in your doorway, eyes exaggeratedly wide..

Maybe it was just growing up in the depression era, and also being just straight-up poor, but the amount of fabric on the floor felt infinite and slightly unnecessary to Bucky. He knew you were a science prodigy and had been paid highly for your research and machines, even more, evident after seeing your place. He's never known luxury and pleasure like this.

“Why do you have so many dresses?”

Shrugging, “fashion is like art to me, and so in some ways, i'm just collecting art. I also have a horrible spending problem, but that's a conversation for another time I think.”

“What are the options?” Bucky asked.

“Uhh,” you stumbled around your room and threw a few dressed around. “Versace, very nice. Christian Dior, is expensive, also nice. Dolce and Gabbana…”

Bucky lazily caught the very expensive dresses you threw around like nothing, peaking into your large walk-in closet. As if your personality summed up into a room, colorful and expensive textiles piled up. Bucky was positive the room was usually clean and organized to the tee. You kept yelling out random French or Italian names Bucky had no knowledge of.

“Okay, slow down. I can speak like twenty-two languages but high fashion is not one of them.” Bucky stopped your rambling, pulling up a long, blood-red gown to your body. “What's wrong with this one, this is pretty.”

You looked at Bucky as if he grew three heads, “way too long, I’d trip over myself all night, and if I’m going with you– red and blue? I know your cap's best friend but come on now, Buck.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighed, picking up a black slim dress. Even imagining you in this one made a pink tint rise to his face. “And this one?”

“Makes me look like a bloated ballon,” you said plainly.

Now Bucky was looking at you like an idiot. “Stop it with that, you’re perfect.”

“Gee thanks, but that doesn't help right now.” you snapped, instantly recoiling at your harsh tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Bucky just smiled, his charming and stupidly sweet smile that makes your knees weak. Wrapping his hands gently around your shoulder and staring intently into your eyes. “Baby, calm down.”

You breathed, tried to at least. The sweet name also made you choke but besides that, Bucky's smooth voice distracted you. “I’m calm.”

“Good.” Bucky nodded, his eyes glancing to the far corner of your closet. A certain light in his eyes showed before his gaze came back to your face. “What about that one?”

Bucky pointed to a certain very special, navy blue dress. Your eyes were wide as you looked between Bucky and the dress. As the silky fabric hung from the hanger, you only took it out of the “vault” to look at it, and didn't even think to try it on. Just wanted to relish in the beauty of it.

“I- no, I can't wear that.” you studdered.

Bucky knew nothing of fashion. What looked good, what was in season, or what was acceptable in the fashion industry. All he knew was the dress looked expensive, matching his and even the thought of you in it made bucky want to fall to his knees. He wasn't leaving this apartment without you in it, to hell any stupid excuse you gave.

“Why not?” he said, stepping carefully over the clothes littered beneath him and picking up the dress. Putting it up to your body, it looked perfect.

“James Buchanan. This was personally gifted to me by Vivienne Westwood. I can’t just wear this.” you shouted.

“I don't know who that is or what that means, put it on.” he shoved the dress in your hands.

“Buck-”

“Please, for me?”

Blinking like an idiot in front of Bucky. You couldn't protest anymore, Bucky was more stubborn than you, and you soon realized he probably wasn’t gonna let you out door without at least seeing it on. You held the dress in your hands, running the fabric under your fingers, huffing dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be in the bathroom, wait here”

Your steps cascaded as you left for the bathroom connected to your room, Bucky awkwardly settled himself on the edge of your bed. Beginning to fidget with the hem of his coat jacket as he waited nervously.

Meanwhile, cursing to yourself in the bathroom as you slipped the dress on it. This dress was gravely special to you, because on your off times and not nose deep in the labs, you'd spent them at fashion events and runways.

Meeting Vivienne was one of the best memories of your life, (next to offering Bucky a new arm) and you'd almost dropped dead when a box decked with the familiar orb logo showed up in front of your door. You had only worn it twice - in your bedroom, too scared and almost feeling unworthy to wear such a thing.

Bucky Barnes sure was special for getting you to go to a stark party with it on.

grunts came from the bathroom as you struggled to slip it on, the zipper reached your middle back and out of reach. Slowly unlocking the door, Bucky's head whipped in your direction. And god, suddenly he couldn't breathe. Even as you clumsily shimmied toward Bucky with your arms awkwardly holding the back up, he thought you looked like the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Buck, can you? The zipper, please?” you turned around and showed the back. Bucky couldn't move for a moment, utterly stunned by your presence. You whispered his name again to catch his attention. Then he stumbled to his feet like a flustered 15-year-old boy. He sure felt like one.

“Yeah. sorry, doll. I got it,” he spoke. You tensed up when Bucky's warm hands touched your bare shoulders. His hands held you like you were glass, slowly zipping the dress up fully. But you didn’t turn around yet, facing him now just felt wrong. You could feel Bucky's breath as his hand trailed across your shoulder blades, Bucky felt goosebumps slowly rise to your skin, and all self-control was gone.

Bucky leaned down and placed a small peck on the crook of your neck, he didn’t even know what he was doing but you practically shuddered under his touch. A chill shot through you and your knees went weak. And then another kiss, and another, and another. His lips slowly made their way up your neck, and one of his hands rested on your waist now.

“You're breathtaking, doll. I’m serious, I've never seen someone so beautiful in my life.” bucky whispered close to your ear, hot breath on your skin that made you ache. His featherlike kisses made you ache, he was so gentle and careful like you’d break under him. You ached for more.

Ever so swiftly, you turned to face bucky. Your hands latched to his neck, “kiss me like you mean it, Barnes.”

In a single instant, bucky’s lips crashed to yours as if his life depended on it, like he couldn't breathe without you. Your back arches into him as he pulled you closer, tongue swiping across his as he let you in. bodies pressed against each other, clinging, aching. More, more, more.

“Bucky…” you wined against his lips, and Bucky quickly pondered if this gala was even worth it. You both were already late, anyways. He hummed sweetly against your lips, your knees hit the edge of your bed and with a surprised yelp, bucky fell atop you on the bed. Kiss unbroken, but you smiled and felt bucky smile into the kiss, following him.

Your hand tangled in his long hair, successfully messing it up farther than it was before. Buckys pulled away just enough to look you in the eye, adoration you found and almost melted. The ends of bucky’s lip quirked up into his infamous dorky smile you only saw on a few special occasions.

“We’re already late…” he whispers so softly.

“Yeah.” you can only mutter out in a daze, falling surrender under bucky’s gaze. Your fingers still tangled in bucky’s brunette hair, getting your nails deep and scratching at his scalp. A quiet pleasured groan escapes his lips. “I messed up your hair.”

Bucky chuckles, “it's okay.”

Tugging your lower lip under your teeth, smiling widely as an idea pops into your head. “Get up, come with me.”

you usher him off you, playfully grabbing at his hands and stumbling over your clothes with bucky following close behind you. leading him into your bathroom and in front of the mirror.

Bucky stood much taller than you, especially without heels. Bucky chuckled as you dragged a small step stool and stepped up behind him. He speaks through a grin, “What are you doing?”

“I messed up your hair, but to be honest– whoever did it added too much gel so I’m going to fix it,” you spoke, grabbing a brush and spray bottle and beginning to spritz his hair in the water. Bucky seemed more than content with your hands raking through his locks.

First parting his hair in half, pulling the top half into a bun, and let the rest fall down. Cocking your head at the sight, he always looked good but not this hairstyle for a gala. Bucky's face crunched up too and you took that as a big no. you just left the hair to fall down naturally, being so used to the regular middle part, you thought to grab the comb and give him a side part.

“What do you think about this?” you asked, brushing the hair out.

Bucky hummed, “Different.”

“Bad or…?”

“No.” bucky smiles, then you realize he's not even looking at himself, his eyes are trained on you. “I like it.”

Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, bucky grew flustered. Jumping down from your stool and kicking it away. Grumbling under your breath, “I gotta get my height back.”

And with that, you grabbed a pair of black heels and before you could go to slip them on, bucky swiped them from your hands and wordlessly knelt down and grabbed your leg. Halfway convinced you were dead and gone to heaven before going along and letting bucky slip the heels on your feet.

Bucky’s eyes gaze slowly up your legs, and body and found your eyes. Your breath hitched as his hand begin to slowly travel up your calve, thigh, and waist. Not taking a moment before his lips were on yours again, the kiss was sweeter now, so sweet you felt your teeth rot.

But then it grew wild, and needy when bucky’s hand squeezed at your waist and thigh. Pushing yourself against his body like a puzzle piece, kissing him was so natural to you, like a motion you were meant to do your whole life. Nipping at Bucky’s lower lip, earning a hungry groan from the soldier.

Both his hands found themselves on your thighs, catching you by surprise when he lifts you up to sit on the counter. Giving himself a better angle to push you flush against him, feeling pleasure shoot through you when your hips met his waist. you knew where this would go if you even got a taste though– and you both were already incredibly late. At this point, you wondered if you'd even go.

“Bucky, I'm serious, we gotta go…” you wine against his lips, Bucky chased after your touch but you pulled away.

A dramatic groan escaped his lips, his head falling in the nook of your shoulder. “I know, I know.”

You hopped off the counter, half mindedly grabbing a Vivienne Westwood pearls to finish the look, because god forbid your outfit to be boring. Bucky watched you with adoration as you both walked hand in hand, leading him out of your apartment. One last glance was spared at your mess of a bedroom, you sighed and told yourself you'd clean it later.

Bucky called over a cab and you two headed off to the Stark tower. One quiet and comfortable ride, bucky’s hand stayed placed on your thigh, your head fell onto his shoulder as your gaze landed on the passing new york streets. A small hum escaped your lips, Bucky squeezed your thigh gently and soon enough you were in front of the huge and practically sparkling tower.

The press and flashing paparazzi that found word of the gala yet were not invited littered around, most were gone as you were at least 40 minutes late. Sometimes you forgot these people you worked with were essentially celebrities in the public eye, they had PR teams and brand deals. You'd see tabloids with iron man's names or magazines in the streets talking about Captain America’s new love interest.

And apparently, Bucky Barnes was no different.

“Bucky Barnes! Winter soldier sir! Is this your new girlfriend!” a young man shouted from behind the barricade, a couple of flashes of cameras. You’d expect your pictures on some website with some arbitrary statement about you and Bucky soon. Even so, this man seemed much nicer than the overbearing fangirls of Steve or scum of the earth reporters yelling bottom-line misogynist comments towards Natasha or Wanda.

Bucky kept his head down as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and forearm, he wasn't one for crowds or simply people who only knew him for what the media portrayed him as.

“You’re okay.” was all you spoke into his ear as you made your way into the doors, being hit with the cool air of the building. Your arms loosened around Bucky now you were in the somewhat safe zone, but his arm snaked around your waist as you walked into the more crowded area.

“Holy shit, I don't know which one to call the arm candy.” Sam's voice yelled from behind you. Being met with Sam in a nice black suit, along with Wanda in a sparkly red dress and Clint in an all-black suit as well.

Everyone looked amazing, it was rare to see them out of kevlar and super suits, or raggedy clothes thrown on after feeling like shit from tough missions.

“And Sam, wow! You clean up nice!” you complimented him.

“You look good, man.” Bucky said, a small smile on his face.

“You too, buck,” Sam said, nodding towards his new hair. “I like the hair, suits you, I still think you need to shave your beard.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, along with a small quirk at the end of his lips as he playfully smacked his shoulder. “Whatever.”

The small chatter continued, a glimpse of the inside of the loud ballroom as guests came and went. Bucky seemed to warm up to everyone more, a smile gracing his lips that made him look at least two decades younger. Soon a smooth and low voice was heard behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder if you are in the wrong profession, you know?” Natasha said, her vibrant red hair pinned up and wearing a beautiful black, slim dress, with two small cutouts on by her waist. You couldn't help but think it was a nod to looking more like the iconic widow hourglass she wore on her belt.

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, “really?”

“Look at yourself, model material in front of me.” Natasha's eyes scanned up your body, a small smirk on your lips.

“You should thank Bucky.” you smiled, eyes glancing towards the man as he conversed with Sam and Steve. He looked genuinely happy and comfortable, a part of you swelled with pride for him. “He convinced me to wear this.”

“And thank god for that.” she laughed. “Also, I think Tony and Bruce were looking for you.”

It took just that for you to excuse yourself from the group, and give Bucky a comforting squeeze as your heels echoed and left the small gathering of avengers. Going to search for Bruce and Tony, apparently to speak about some new projects and talk with some foreign scientists looking for collaborations.

Meanwhile, the cap quartet was left sitting lazily around hallway couches and successfully avoiding the overbearing and bluntly disrespectful politicians and reporters, fans even. Natasha snuck close to Bucky and next to Sam as they spoke about nonsense or missions.

“You make her feel beautiful?” Natasha spoke, nursing a drink in her hands despite the fact she had only taken 2 sips in the past 20 minutes.

Bucky's mind went back to the bathroom counter or the edge of your bed, the way his heart raced and cock twitched as his hands roamed your body. when your breath hitched as he bent down before you and trailed his palms up your legs, and pressed himself against your core. Bucky hummed, trying to cover up the pink-tinted ears at the more than erotic memory,

“yeah, yeah, I think so.”

******

“I’m really glad this collaboration is going through, I’m hoping we get some really good things done soon.” Miles franco's upbeat and excited voice spoke.

your heels echoed in the hallway, just leaving a semi-empty meeting room with Bruce, Tony, and Pepper. Miles was a scientist and developer with new ideas and resources for some big projects Tony’s been wanting to start. He spoke kindly and had confidence in him that made you feel secure in working with him.

After a text from Bucky that the group had gone into the ballroom to actually do what they were there for, you excused yourself while Bruce continued to look over the contract you’d be signing in a few days, and Tony and Pepper went off to… you’d rather not think about it. Miles kindly offered to walk you back, as long as you introduced him to Natasha. with a smile and laugh you began to walk back.

“I am too, I’m also just glad to be back and working in one place.” you laughed, referring to your last few years of constant traveling, researching, and volunteering. meeting as many high-level and reputable people to kick start a better career. “Tony’s been very good to be over the past month.”

Miles clicked this tongue, making a tsk sound as his steps faltered. He wore a smirk that didn’t match his friendly smile from earlier, like something hidden beneath his conventionally attractive smile and dimples. Once you stopped, he began to close the gap between the two of you, shaking his head.

“You know, you don’t need Tony.” Miles' voice sounded coy, cocky. As if he knew better and had to teach you some lesson.

“Pardon?”

he chuckled, “you're smart, sexy, young, and know your way around a room. in a few years you’ll be running laps around both Tony and Bruce, they’re holding you back by making you work under them.”

you blinked, almost flinching from the sudden change in tone. “they aren’t making me do anything, and we’re partners if anything”

Miles flashed his smile again as he stepped closer and tried to reach for your hand, you smoothly avoided his touch, but he was practically in your face now.

“you know what I mean.” he sighed, “you could be so much more, making millions and having anything your heart desires. make a deal with me, I can give that to you.”

“I’m content with what I have now, thank you. and I’m definitely not making a deal with someone who insults my colleagues— my friends.” you snarled, trying to remain as professional as you could. not wanting to drag out any hostility from the man before you, the hallway was far away from the main ballroom and empty.

you were mentally done with the conversation, wanting away from Mile’s hot breath and uncomfortable stares (you were sure he was staring down your dress as he crept closer). Turning your back on the man, steps speeding up from before as you fumed with anger.

a low chuckle was heard from behind you, making your skin crawl. “fuck, that man really has you dickmatized or something.”

okay, what the fuck?

stopping dead in your tracks, gasping under your breath as your whipped your head back around. face scrunched in anger— stop, you have to tell yourself. He’s trying to make you mad, calm down.

“Excuse me, what now?”

“Barnes. You don’t think everyone knows by now? I’m positive he’s the only reason you're still at that shitty compound, working with those super freaks. you could be so much more if it wasn’t for him.”

Breathe in— breathe out.

trying to settle the rage settling low in your stomach, slowly rising to your chest. trying not to make your voice shake as you responded. “Bucky has absolutely nothing to do with my job.”

another low laugh. God, this man was fucking evil.

“Come on! you’re fucking amazing and potentially one of the smartest people on earth, that guy doesn’t deserve you! I’m sure with the amount of brain damage the commies gave him he can’t even count to 10.” Miles frustrated, closing the gap once again, you felt stuck in place. “face it, he’s a fucking nut who only knows how to handle a gun like a mad man, a ticking time bomb.”

your fist clenched until your nails dug into your palm, blood trickling down your hand. Your breath was unsteady with rage, but you couldn’t move— you felt frozen under his disgusting gaze. Mile's hand moved to grab at your waist and pull you close, you jerked back.

heavy exhales, your voice raised slightly - keep it professional - you must have been shaking. “don’t insult my- my boyfriend’s intelligence, you are not even an ounce of the man he is. and do not even try to touch me again.”

Miles rolled his eyes, trying to step closer again if possible. “come one, don’t be like that babe-“

“and consider your part in this collaboration gone. you will not be making any more money or deals with Stark industries from now on.” your voice settled, you sounded stern and strong. holding your head high as you held back from screaming in his face.

Mile’s features dropped, the cocky smirk faded and he looked weak – desperate and small. “you don’t have the right to do that.”

now, you got in his face. “yes, Miles. yes, I do.”

he genuinely looked scared and pride warmed in your chest. getting one last ‘fuck you’ in as you very harshly slammed your heel on his foot. he groaned and curled into himself, you hoped to draw blood there. you were wearing stilettos.

picking up your pace as you fled from him, head still held high but you felt shaky. this wasn’t the first time you’d experienced sexual harassment or insults and you were sure it wasn’t going to be the last but the meer mention of Bucky shook you, the insult towards Bruce and Tony. the way he felt like he held something over your head and felt obligated to touch you. your skin crawled.

you were left in a daze, finding your way back to the ballroom, warm lights and loud chatter everywhere. instantly hiding from the crowded areas and searching for Bucky. you edged with anxiety.

Breathe in— breathe out.

Bucky stood near the bar, nursing a drink that probably had zero effect on him. you sped over to him and pushed out a smile.

“Buck! sorry, I got caught up!” you spoke as you approached him. Bucky’s eyes lit up lighter than any light in the room, making you feel warm and comfortable again.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky smiled, reaching to wrap his arm around your waist. “don’t worry, how’d the talk go?”

you opened your mouth to speak of the contract and project, finding a way to leave the hallway interaction out. but Bucky interrupted you abruptly, worry fell onto his features as he brought your hand into his.

“Sweetheart, what is this? are you okay?” he looked down at your bleeding palm, small cuts the size of your nails and the tips and cuticle of your nails stained red.

“It's nothing.” you shrugged it off and slipped your hand away from his grasp.

“No.” Bucky spoke, stern and clear. Grabbing your hand back and running his fingers along the small cuts. “It's not. What happened?”

You sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact but Bucky knew much better. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index, your eyes still gazed down.

“Baby.” bucky whispered.

“Seriously, Bucky, it's nothing. I just had a frustrating person in that meeting, didn’t even realize I was doing it.” you rattled, grasping for an excuse without having to lie to the man.

Bucky sighed, pulling you away to the side with no word. Wetting an entirely too expensive Stark napkin with alcohol and wiping at your plams, stinging slightly. Bucky worked so gently, his hand wrapped around your forearm made you feel warm.

“I've seen you handle Stark at his lowest moment, bark off assholes like it's nothing. It is obviously not nothing, doll”

You wouldn't win this, not with the most stubborn man in front of you. You watched as he smoothed his thumb over your hand.

“this guy…” Bucky listened intently, his full attention on you and adoration yet, worry dripped from his features. “The collaborator from France, he said some rude things about Tony, Bruce and, uh… you. He tried to sweet talk me into leaving Stark industrie. Kept calling me all these objectifying names, he’s a dick I can’t believe I was excited about this project.”

Bucky's back straightened and his jaw clenched. He looked around the room, almost to find the man responsible. It was Bucky's turn to clench his first, knuckles turning white.

“and you?” was all Bucky could manage to mumbled out.

“I told him off and smashed his foot with my heel, and I'm making Tony diminish the contract.” you replied.

“Good.” Bucky nodded, snarling under his breath. “deserves a lot more than that.”

“I’m okay, seriously. just shook me up for a moment.” you reassure the man, because there was no way he was letting go of this. you took Bucky’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor. “now dance with me, sergeant.”

the bright, boyish smile reluctantly returned to his face. hands almost instantly falling at your side and pulling you flush again this chest. you chased into the touch, grinning.

And that's how you and Bucky spent the next few moments, soft live music played in the background, other couples and friends swayed around you two. Bucky would quietly hum along to the music sometimes, your head rested on his chest and you'd feel the soft vibrations from him. You'd never understand how safe and secure you could feel in someone's arms, the idea sounded so out of reach and impossible only a few months ago. God knows you had never even thought to make time to explore that idea, but here it was, coming to you without even realizing it. It felt so natural now.

Bucky's hand smoothed on the exposed skin on your back and arms, he breathed freely, not feeling tense or on edge like most of his life. And for the first time since the alps, Bucky felt soft inside– in a sense. Bucky didn't feel dangerous, like he would break the person that he held in his arms. He didn't feel like an animal, a machine, or a murderer. Bucky smelled the lavender conditioner in your hair, the expensive smelling perfume on you. Bucky felt like a man in love with a girl, he is one.

Oh god, Bucky Barnes is in love. A feeling he has not felt since maybe 1942? when he took that red headed girl to coney island, but even that could never compare to the feelings swelling in his chest now. Being in love was scary– so, so scary. But with you warm and smiling in his arms, it was hard for Bucky to think of anything else.

“Bucky.” you wined, Bucky pulled away just enough to see your face. Your eyelids flutter in tiredness, a haze filtered across your eyeballs. “Are you obliged to stay for anything?”

“Not that I know of, doll. You want to get out of here?” Bucky spoke so smoothly, so flirtatious. He felt younger and more confident.

You nodded lazily, and Bucky looked around to see the crowd had begun to disperse. People hung round and talked, most were slightly tipsy. The craze of politicians and reporters settled. Bucky's hand smooth from your shoulder to your hand, ready to pull you into him and guide you home.

But his hands grazed the small cuts on your palm, he tensed. Gladly, you didn't notice. Bucky had one more thing to do before he left.

“Sweetheart, I have to go ask Steve something real quick, meet me in the lobby and i'll take you home?”

“Everything okay?” you asked, Bucky hoped you didn’t pick up on his… scheming. Flashing a smile, “of course, I’ll be quick.”

Nodding again, your heels echoed away from Bucky, the dress train cascading behind you beautifully. You reminded Bucky of some sort of angel.

A slight scowl fell upon Bucky's face as his blue eyes searched the ground, he found Steve with ease. Bucky had some sort of sixth sense when it came to finding Steve, ever since they were just two pre-teens getting lost in the city, Bucky was always the one having to search and rescue him from large crowds. The added height now just made it even easier.

His steps were heavy and with purpose, finally approaching the blonde. Standing close to Sam, Bruce and Clint. Good.

“Hey, buck. Where did your girl go?” Steve asked, all eyes now on him as he joined the small circle. Bucky's ears tinted pink towards the mention of you being his - he hoped you'd want that.

“We’re about to leave, she's getting tired.” Bucky replied. Steve opened his mouth to respond, small talk maybe, or a short goodbye and a pat on the back but Bucky was already onto other things.

Bucky turned to the timid scientist, getting Bruce’s attention. “Hey, banner! Who was the guy that y/n was with earlier? Looked french.”

Somewhat of a rhetorical question, Bucky kinda knew of the guy, he knew enough from what he heard from you. Steve was watching from the side with realization soon growing on his face, but he didn't speak a word.

“He's a scientist that Tony and I were wanting to collaborate with, I think he is still here if you're looking for him. At the bar I think.” Bruce replied.

“Great, thank you.” Bucky forced out a half hearted smile and began to turn away from the group. Steve grabbed onto his shoulder before he could heave.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, he knew Bucky better than most and recognized the off look in his eyes. Steve grew concerned.

Bucky looked at the others in the group, pulling Steve close and hoped none of them picked up the words he whispered into his ear. “Some punk tried to come onto her like a creeper, shook her up real good, talked badly about the team and kept trying to come onto her.”

“And you plan to do what?” Steve knew the answer to his own question.

Bucky gave Steve a knowing look. Bucky was clearly growing annoyed and Steve could tell when he started talking like it was the 40s again, strong Brooklyn accent coming out with it. “Gonna teach the fella’ a lesson.”

Steve exhaled, slowly letting go of Bucky's shoulder. his eyes fell onto the bar as he found the man. steve didn’t object.

It’ll be okay if he is a little late, right?

tag list: @matchat3a @sebsgirl71479 @heavenswrld @ivywasmaroon @nt-multi-fandom @michaefuckinglangdon @fand0mskullfa1ry @lilliarussell @athenabarnes @almosttoopizza @genlovesdcb @i-l-y-3000 @timotheesrealgf

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #fic rec #fic update

[granolawriting]

hi can you do sith anakin x reader (reader has healing powers but no one knows it she is both fascinated and scared of anakin and watches him secretly (he senses it) everytime he walks in front of her etc) reader is maid and she is amazed by story of kybers and lightsaber. So one time her duty is hanging his robes so she goes to his room scaredly but after getting her job done she realizes his lightsaber is there so she cant help but examine, touch his lightsaber but he senses it and suddenly behind her after that idk yandere stuff happens and when he touches her he senses her healing powers so chooses her as his personal maid and makes her massage his temples everynight for headache, a bond starts to form between them

A/N: This is usually the kind of specificity I like to keep commissions for, but regardless I enjoyed trying out the scene building based on your suggestion! I appreciate your request :) I hope you enjoy <3

pairing: Sith!Anakin x reader

content warning: brief choking, power dynamic

word count: 3.2k

Your eyes watched him go by. Black enveloped by more black, a wave of terror rushes over you at the sight of his path. His robes define evermore the intimidation wishing to be imbued within his subjects as his path is blazed with red. Though with careful luck, you found yourself his maid. Or well, one of many. There was a great deal of women tasked with the upkeep of the empire, and so very often his own dwelling. But that was incredibly rare. No one was allowed so close to him, and especially to you all he was was but a mystery. 

You trace his body as it walks past you, watching as yellow eyes and the brood of a Greek tragedy coat his face peppered with strands of brown hair that fell to his lower neck. Though your eyes linger upon his waist, a specific item that never fails to catch your whimsy is the handle to the blade no one but him ever held anymore. 

Order 66. 

You remember watching that transpire. Though you were quite young, you remember the Jedi. You remember their blades, how they were formed, the kybers harvested from far-off planets and infused into specialized sheaths that harbored great power divinely intertwined with its wielder. When you were young you envied the force, yearned for it to grace you with it's presence though as you grew older and more practical, you settled for an infatuation with the lightsaber's story. And with your master, boss if you will, being the only one left with such a sight, it oftentimes shed from your mind that insurmountable fear of him, to one of fascination and wonder. What was his story? 

That's a question no one knew, and no one ever would know.

Fear washes over you. Immanent, impending doom. You slowly gaze up from where you allowed your eyes to wander for many moments too long, to find the eyes of Anakin staring back at you. FUCK. 

…

The silence is more petrifying than the words he could say. The fear of not knowing overtook the fear of what he was going to do and he knew that. However, after a moment longer, he left without a word. A clacking of heel against freshly cleaned tile slowly drifting off into another corridor as you are left with a heart rate that could kill. Your breath levels after a few more moments of silence enveloping you, an empty room, and a myriad of assumptions to be made. But regardless, your mind still sits on the sway of the saber along his belt. Its complexity still entices you as much as it ever has. 

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

“You wish me to, drop these in his room?” 

Held within your hands are the robes that which Anakin wears on his daily excursions, often needing to be washed and repaired due to stains and wear; though the stench of blood could never quite leave it’s woven threads. 

“Is there a problem with that?” 

“Oh no uh, not at all. I just didn't know that was within my realm of ability” 

“Well, it is now. So do your job. And don't think we won't be making sure you don't do anything you’d regret.”

Stern eyes meet yours, for a droid that is. Your manager in a way, is a droid. A bit odd, but takes out the reasonability of a human to be compelled to go against code. This thing is more apt to kill you than anything else.

Though with little more convincing needed, you take the robes down the infamous corridor that seldom ever walked. You could feel the aura of his common passage seep from the metal beneath you as the hallway never seemed to end. Anxiety wells up in you as you approach its entrance. 

This is where Anakin lives. Lord, Anakin. 

A loud beep of a properly put-in keypad was what proceeded to a large hissing of the doors opening. You slowly enter within its realm, one slow foot over the other, scouring every area for possible life that you should undoubtedly be in fear of. Despite having a reason to be there, the intimidation lingers within every surface he’s touched, every glass held that lay on the coffee table, and undoubtedly the bed at which he sleeps that you stare at with eyes of awe. You saw Anakin for a moment, within this room. Not the Sith, but the man. You saw the empty glass of water next to his bed, the disheveled sheets that indicate a bed slept in, you see things left half open- the living of a person within these walls. Though one of the things you notice left open is his closet. Your destination is to be swiftly met and your activity finished. Before people start to question. You make your way into his closet, swiftly put his things where they belong, and exit his room. 

However, something stops you. It catches your eye, the glint of it's metal reflects off the sun that shines through his windows and you stop where you are immediately. 

His lightsaber. 

Why it wasn't with him, is a mystery you hold with much contemplation but all sense is overriden being in such close proximity to the single weapon you’ve been infatuated with since you first laid eyes on it. It’s almost as though it calls to you, sings to you. 

A head moving left and right, surveying its surroundings as you stand alone in this room does the desire grow too strong. Your hand outstretched, slow feet step closer to it. Until it's finally touched your fingers. The meer power exuding from it is never something you could have accounted for, but probably should have. A touch of fingers grows into a grip of fingers, and a grip upon it grows into both hands holding this item yearned for your entire life. You felt euphoric, this isn't something you thought you’d ever be able to feel, or experience. Eyes look down into its core and see the kybercrystal staring back at you, and with simple means, you find the blade ignited in a red beam of flame that relayed noise with every motion of it as you softly swung it in the open air. A smile coated on your face in a way you've never felt, joy so strong your face hurts from pure happiness.

This was very short-lived. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” 

your stomach drops as you hear a horrifyingly familiar voice sound behind you.

Anakin. 

It's, you, didn't even hear him come in. It's as if he appeared. The blade drops from your hand, sheathing itself in the process so all that follows its loss of grip is the hard clank of metal greeting the hard tile of the floor where you stood.

Hurried, petrified voice that only sounded a means for survival as your mind stayed blank with terror; 

“Oh please, god oh I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. Please sir don't hurt me plea-” 

Without another word you are thrown against a wall, feeling the choke of his hands from feet away as he holds his arm out to signify the force used to harm you. 

“Did you really not think I’d feel something like that? Do you know nothing, young girl? The moment you laid eyes on that thing it is as though you laid eyes upon me. Which I promise you I’ve noticed as well. Do you work for the rebels perhaps? Or are you just nosy?” 

your hand grasps at an invisible hand across your throat, restricted air desperately escapes your body as you gasp for breath within his grasp. All you can muster is a “No” 

“No what?” 

Furrowed brows and rancor coating his yellow eyes, a scowl across his mouth as he tightens his grip upon your neck as a sadistic means to give you a thought that you may have a chance to actually explain yourself. 

Though as your hands follow the lines of your neck, you feel the bruise forming around you heal. The strained vocal cords of a woman choked begin to grow well as you grace yourself with the one thing that’s made your world livable as of late. An attunement with life and death that has made you well-equipped to heal. You couldn't bring people back from the dead, but you could heal them from the brink of it. That included yourself, and though it's never been as useful as it is at this moment, it has saved you many times in the past. Especially others. 

His eyes begin to show sight of confusion at the lack of intense struggle; a sterner look upon your face as you try to heal yourself with hands softly drawn across your neck, he quickly notices the wounds on you disappear as he creates them. He stops his tournament for but a moment, taken aback at the sight of such a thing. A thing he's never seen before, the ability to heal what was once broken with powers within only yourself. 

“What do you think you're doing?”

You collapse to the ground, gasping for air but not nearly as much as you’d need to if it hadn't been for your healing. His voice is deep, laced with anger as his lesson on you didn't seem to reach it’s desired outcome, but regardless curiosity got the better of him as he truly desired an explanation for your ability. 

“Sir please I-, I don't want to die. There's so much unfinished for me to do and I just-”

“That's not what I asked. How are you healed.” 

You pause for a moment. Realizing that he noticed yet again what you try so hard to hide. Touching your neck ever so slightly you shift the direction of what you explain to him;

“This is, I can heal. That’s all that I can do sir. I don't do it too often, I don't know what it does. Or how I can do it, really.” 

“Can it heal others?” 

An opening. Your salvation. 

“Yes! Yes. Yes, I can. Please, I'll heal whoever you need me to. Please just spare me.” 

“Get out.” 

You pray thanks and run as quickly as you can. As your feet hit the tile that separated the entrance of his dwelling and the corridor you were in just moments ago, it felt as if an eternity was spent within the confines of that room. Confronting him as he stood there ready to kill you. You have never felt so grateful in your whole life, that you were able to make your way free after all you did. After touching, even playing with his saber. 

You touched his saber. 

It hit you then. That you finally actualized something that you allowed overtake you in obsession-- something that meant an unfathomable amount to you, something you’d dreamed of your whole life. And you got away with it. 

Desire overtook you, replaying those brief moments of freedom in your head over and over as you yearn for just another moment with it in your hands. Just a second more, the sound gracing your ears for just one more turn. But you couldn't. You barely saved yourself from his grasp the first time, there's no means to say he wouldn't do away with you if you ever tried something like that again. Like you could even get close again. You wouldn't be surprised if he just allowed a delay of the inevitable, that tomorrow morning there would be inquisitors at your door ready to whisk you away like they did any other rebel spy. 

You needed to sleep. There's nothing productive out of the fear you held within yourself, and as you slowly lulled yourself into a slumber that coming night, all that filled your dreams were action and power wielded within the saber. The feeling of it in your hand, the way it weighed on you, the power you felt exude from the weapon's very core only allowed more vivid actualization of what had been the dreams you kept for years upon years. You were enamored with Anakin even more after this point, and despite the fear that lingered deep in your heart, there's something to be said about feeling his essence for but a moment. It was something inexplicable, something fascinatingly complex. 

-----

“Lord Anakin wishes to speak with you.” 

A knock upon your door as morning broke followed by this request from a member of Anakin's innumerable messengers across the empire. He hands you a bit of paper requesting, or moreso demanding your audience in his dwellings at 5 in the evening that day. 

Looking at a clock shining a bright 7 a.m., all that welled within your heart was fear and anticipation. your door closed once the messenger had provided you with the information he was tasked with, and alone you stood for a moment at your entryway trying to gather what he could have wanted from you. You were insignificant at best, all that caught his eye was your increasingly daring behavior that hinged on means for execution. Though for some reason you lived, and for that very reason you held a modicum of faith that there was somehow a positive means to be in his private audience. 

-----

As your day drew to a close, every minute feeling like hours against the impending clock that determined at 5 pm, may you live to see the next day, or might you not be so lucky. Quickly changing out of your working clothes, you make your way to Anakin's room with an intense grasp on the time, so as to not be a moment too late. Or early for that matter. 

Stood outside the arched doorway of his room you sit there with a quickened heart. Anticipation and petrification consume you respectively as the only door that divided you from him was little effect in withholding the feeling of him right on the other side, the aura of a man who had little remorse. Sympathy. Consideration or especially means for compromise. It was what he wanted, or death. You reminded yourself, steeling yourself for whatever he may demand of you as you enter. 

“You may come in already.” 

His voice booms from the inside of the room. He could tell you were there. He could sense your fear no doubt, tell your presence from behind a steel door. You enter with haste.

There you find him sitting on a chair, waiting for you to approach him. With cautious steps you obliged, taking in all you could of your surroundings-- surveying for anything that may cue you in a second before he does. 

You stand a few feets' distance from him. 

“No, come here.” 

He motions his hand towards you, as you observe a face of indifference at the sight of you. It was better than anger. Much, better than anger. 

You arrive at around a half-foot distance from him, and with that he commands; 

“Give me your hands.” 

As he opens up with both his arms outstretched as you slowly move them into his, feeling a cold and calloused hand grab yours the moment they were in reach, and moving them slowly to his temple. You stood there in silence as he closed his eyes at the touch of your fingers upon his face, a furrowed brow that implied that you weren't providing for him what he had expected of you. 

And then it dawned on you. He wants you to heal him. 

“Would you, like me to heal you, sir?” 

A polite tone coated your voice to hide any semblance of anxiety or embarrassment. 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I can't quite do that without knowing the source. Can you tell me what you want to heal?” 

“Headaches. Migraines. Must I say more.” 

“No, no not at all. Thank you, sir.” 

And so with gentle hands along his temples, you feed within him the power that he has grown privy to. Though as you watch along his face an unforeseen tension seems to be released from his face as it grows softer under your touch. A scowl turns into a resting face, and a furrow of brows evens out for a feeling of tranquility you can only assume overtook the body of a man relieved of an incessant headache. 

And a tear, runs from his face. 

After a few more minutes you feel as though you’ve done all you can, and let up from his face. 

He looks at you for a moment, and you see someone you oddly recognize. For but a moment the gruff exterior of a man dealing with war looks upon you like, just a man. No amount of intimidation could negate the fact that he was just that, and as you healed his mind, you felt as though a bit of his heart was able to shine through in its place. 

“Very well. I expect you to report here instead of your usual station tomorrow from now on. Is that clear?” 

“Oh uh, yes sir. May I ask what you will be expecting of me from now on? What shall I do for you?” 

“You will be my personal assistant. Do you object to my order?” 

“No, no sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.” 

And as you turn away to walk back to your room, he calls upon you once more. 

“Thank you.” 

That is all he says, and proceeds to turn into his bedroom through a separate door. As you depart from his home, you feel within yourself a well-developed liking for Anakin that overshadows the fear you held for him. To understand him is what you desire most, and although to heal the mind isn't to be able to read it, you realize that much can be learned through what parts of a person hurt most. 

----

As time went on, to report to his door every day and follow his list of commands, cleaning his place, placing his robes, and most importantly healing his mind most every night, you began to learn intimate details of him that made him quite human to you. He was very slow to speak, only when it was absolutely necessary. But he was kind to you, and as time grew on he seemed to enjoy you as well. You gathered that no one visited him, no one really felt comfortable in his presence and that was something that drastically changed within your own feelings toward him.

 And as the bond grew even stronger, he had a room built for you close to that of his own, as a means to keep you closer for when he needed it. He was very hard of emotion, and in those moments of healing is really the only time you felt as though you could truly see Anakin. And there's cause to believe he thinks so as well. To heal his mind is to heal his heart in a way, and with every night spent together for a few minutes softened him up to you immensely. 

He felt vulnerable around you, and that made him feel human, even for just a moment. 

#anakin skywalker #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #enemies to lovers #enemies to implied lovers #anakin fluff #sith anakin #sith x reader #vader x reader #darth vader

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Red

Pairing: cis!Simon Riley x cis!Male Reader

Summary: Reader and Simon try sensory deprivation and Simon safe words

Words: 677

Warnings: brief mention of abduction and torture, just the words no description

Notes: I see how the poll is going so I whipped this up really quick, and nearly had a meltdown because I accidentally deleted it all but thank the lords for notion because It had an update feature so I got it all back. I'm getting sick and tired of Tumblr not putting my posts under the tags, I've been trying to fix this for ages.

if you like my work please support me with either the tip button or visit my kofi page, you can see the pinned post on my blog for more information please look into it.

“Is this… are you sure about this Simon?” Simon's wrists were tied to the headboard above the soldier's head, you were straddling Simon, hovering over the older hips. “I- I mean… I don't want you to feel like you have to do this” Simon huffs in response trying to act annoyed but truthfully he's not entirely sure how he feels about being in this situation, his mind is running miles a minute and he can't get his thoughts to slow down.

Simon keeps picturing all of the times he's been tied up while held captive and tortured, he tries to push those thoughts out of his mind because he's here with you, his wonderful, amazing, and very understanding boyfriend but he just can't do it. Simon knows you would never hurt him on purpose and you're proving that by hesitating and continuously questioning him and constantly making sure he's alright.

Simon thinks he should feel annoyed or happy or something like that but his mind is racing and it isn't giving him enough time to feel anything other than the anxiety and the suffocating sense of impending doom and he knows he should speak up and tell you that he doesn't know if he's fine but Simon is stubborn and has a big ego so he swallows the sour bile creeping up the back of his throat and nods.

You don't look convinced. You give Simon an anxious look before taking a deep breath to settle your own anxiety and then you carefully slide the blindfold over Simon's eyes, plunging him into darkness, and almost immediately Simon is overwhelmed by anxiety. The soldier feels like he's been swallowed up in a void, he can feel your guys’ sheets underneath him, the soft texture you had insisted on, and rambled on about the thread count until Simon got annoyed and shoved the pack into the cart.

The feeling and memory should comfort him but he can't see you he can't see anything, his other senses go into overdrive, Simon swears he can hear the electricity buzzing through the walls and his blood pumping in his veins and he vaguely wonders if this was how you felt every time you got overstimulated. Simon’s so caught up in his head that it takes him a minute to realize that you've been calling his name, he flinches when he feels your soft hand smoothing over the scarred skin of his chest, over his heart.

“… Simon? What's your color? Are you okay?” You sound so worried, Simon can practically picture the worried anxious look on your face and the thought forces him to come to his senses, he's tensed, almost painfully so and his hands are balled into fists so tight that he thinks his fingernails punctured the skin of his palms. Simon opens his mouth to speak, to like and say that he's okay, just a little nervous maybe but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper “red.”

Simon hardly recognizes his voice but before he could get further into his head and get all insecure about how pathetic he feels, the blindfold is off his hands are free and your worried face is taking up his line of sight, you had gotten off of him somewhere in between taking the blindfold off and removing the silk from his wrists. “Baby? Are you okay? What happened?” Simon doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know if he can say anything but you understand, you always understand.

You wordlessly pull Simon to your chest and curl around him, he finds himself admiring the way your bodies fit together like you were made for each other. Simon sinks into your embrace, timing his breaths with yours and listening intently to your heart beating. He hates how much he needs you but he can't find it in himself to push you away, he nuzzles further into your chest, and in turn your grip around him tightens, You don't ask anymore, you don't push him to talk, he’ll do it when he's ready.

#x male reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley x male reader

[chillypowder]

Regretful Petals

Pair: Ayato Kamisato x Reader

"Love, unreturned, is like a flower without sunlight – destined to wither and fade."

As the Reader made their way to their bed, they felt increasingly sluggish, with a sense of impending doom settling over them. Suddenly, waves of nausea and a sharp pain in their chest robbed them of breath, leading to violent coughing that expelled not just delicate petals, but also an alarming number of stems and thorns. Dizziness overcame them, and the world spun as they collapsed, consciousness slipping away. In their final moments, the Reader reflected on a life filled with unfairness, a yearning for love and reciprocity that had remained unfulfilled. They considered their love for Ayato a sin, a tragic result of unreturned feelings and the cruel embrace of the hanahaki disease. As darkness enveloped them, the Reader's last whispered words echoed in the empty chamber - "I love you."

This was written in the bus home so it's kind of looks hurried so I apologize

#angst #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #ayato angst #ayato x reader #ayato x reader angst #kamisato ayato #genshim impact #genshin x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #Ayato Kamisato x reader angst #ayato kamisato

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 4

Okay first of all Here's the aok3 link for anyone who missed it!

Secondly I'm going to let you all know that unfortunately I'm not going to be taking any more tags on this. I've crossed 200 and I am so so grateful for you all, but it's going to be impossible to keep up with them. If you want to stay updated, subscribe on ao3, follow me here, or check the tag 'Steve Joins Hellfire AU' I think I'm the only one using it? If I missed taking you off, I'm so sorry just let me know again it's been totally crazy wrangling this list!

Part 1 here Part 3 here Part 5

Rest of fic and tags under read more!

When the rest finally got used to Steve watching them from over Eddie’s shoulder, the meeting was fairly uneventful. Steve would occasionally interject with a hesitant question, and Eddie would pause every so often to explain something when he noticed confusion on the other boy’s face, but overall it was almost like he wasn’t even there. 

Well, almost like he wasn’t even there for everyone else. 

For Eddie, it was two and a half hours of pure torture. 

Steve had started off a polite distance away from Eddie, clearly only observing. But, as the game progressed, their chairs inched closer and closer together until Eddie’s arm was pressed up against Steve’s, and their heads were knocking together as they pushed in close. 

All of their words were hushed and soft, gentle in a way that no one else would have expected from Steve Harrington. But the quiet snickers Steve let slip whenever Eddie did something particularly dastardly made every thought race out of his head. 

“There’s a lurking sense of impending doom as your party approaches the fiery gate. You each feel a foreboding chill race up your spines when you hear a monstrous roar echoing in the distance. Gather your party, and decide as one what you will do at this point,” Eddie growled out, watching with glee as the rest of them raced to the other side of the room and huddled together to exchange tense whispers.

As the rest of the club continued to strategize, Eddie sat back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and letting loose a long indulgent sigh. 

Sure, he wasn’t the smartest person in the room, or the best athlete, but Eddie was good at this. He was good at this the same way he was good with a guitar, or with his hands stuck deep in the engine of a car. There was a thrilling sort of joy in doing something that he knew he excelled at, knowing he wasn’t going to fail, or not measure up, and that feeling was enough to give him the courage to turn to the boy next to him. 

“You likin’ it so far?” Eddie asked Steve, thoroughly enjoying the immediate eager nod that came before he even finished his question. 

“It’s really cool actually! I wasn’t expecting to have this much fun,” Steve said sitting cross legged in his chair and holding onto his ankles. 

It should have felt like backhanded compliments. Steve’s words should have offended him. If anyone else had said it, if any other jock had said it, then Eddie would be up in arms, defensive and bitter. 

But it was Steve, and Eddie was kind of already a goner for his big brown eyes and goofy sweet smile. All he heard was ‘cool’ and ‘fun’ and his brain put two and two together to create embarrassed happiness that flooded his every vein. 

Eddie pulled a lock of his hair over his face to hide the stupid grin that was on his face, chewing on the ring on his middle finger as he tried to pretend he wasn’t ridiculously pleased that Steve was having a good time. 

“Well, just wait till they get past this gate. If they get past this gate,” Eddie amended after a brief pause, busying himself with fixing his papers and pretending to be busy, “I have some pretty crazy things planned,”

“I’m sure you do,” 

The sentence was barely a murmur, four mumbled words that came on a puff of hot air that tickled the back of Eddie’s ear. A warm heavy presence settled itself right behind Eddie as Steve leaned up to read over his shoulder. Now it was Eddie’s turn to feel something racing down his spine, but it definitely wasn’t foreboding. 

Damn. 

Eddie’s face flushed deep red, and he pulled away, standing up and pretending to cough as he tried and failed to pull himself together. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? That’s the fifth time you’ve had to cough,” Steve pointed out from behind him. Eddie tossed a thumbs up haphazardly, cursing himself. 

Eddie had been forced to pretend to cough multiple times, just to turn away to try and hide the blush on his cheeks as Steve said or did something that made his entire body turn to jelly. The rest of the club hadn’t been fooled a bit, but Steve had started getting concerned after the second fake out. 

“Eddie’s just fine,” Janet said with a smirk, popping her head out of the huddle just to be an ass. 

Eddie continued to fake cough, sticking up his middle finger at her from where he was sure Steve wouldn’t see. He loved his friends, but honestly? Fuck his friends. 

“Maybe your throat is dry,” Steve offered, standing up and walking over to his backpack and starting to root around in it, “You have been doing a lot of talking,” 

“Yeah, talking is the issue here,” Rocky snarked as the rest of the group came back to the table, each of them wearing shit eating grins that made Eddie know he was in for the teasing of a lifetime the next time they were alone. 

“Well, regardless of why, you need to hydrate,” Steve replied, walking back over and holding out a water bottle to Eddie. 

The entire group instantly began to smother down their laughter. Even Gareth, who had stayed mad the entire fucking time, was hiding a smile behind his hand. Eddie screwed up his face into a completely unamused pout.

“Did I uh- did I miss something?” Steve asked, a sad puppy dog look of bewilderment on his features, sending Eddie's heart into overdrive.  He began to pull his hand back, but Eddie quickly intervened. 

“Thank you Steve,” Eddie emphasized, snatching the water bottle and taking a greedy sip. Water dribbled out of his mouth and down his throat, staining his shirt, “At least someone is worried about my precious, precious, voice,”

“You’re the lead of a metal band, Ed,” Jeff pointed out with a roll of his eyes, “Excuse us for not being too worried about what a few hours of DMing might do to that, oh so precious voice,”

Everyone else chuckled at this, even Steve. Eddie was caught between being annoyed at being teased, and elated at the prospect of the rest of the group starting to accept his ‘pet jock’. He waited until they were quiet before sitting back down, placing the bottle next to his papers and spreading his thighs wide. He placed both palms on his knees, leaning down and giving all of them a corrupted sneer.

“Have you decided what you want to do, travelers?” He asked, getting back into character. 

“We decided…that it’s almost 5:00, so we should pack it up,” Frank said with an exaggerated long pause, the rest exchanging slightly tired nods. Eddie straightened up, dropping the act.

“Seriously?” Eddie said, not exactly whining, but definitely disappointed. This was always what happened. If Eddie had his way, they would go until the sun rose for the next day, but the rest could only handle a few hours of this after eight hours of school. 

He was going to continue, try and talk them into at least another half hour, but before he could, Steve spoke up.

“Um, I actually have to go too,” He admitted, glancing at his watch and giving Eddie a conciliatory shrug. 

“Meeting up with your basketball buddies?” Gareth asked, still acting like a venomous snake. 

“No, we…we don’t really talk anymore,” Steve said, the long pause betraying the long story that hid behind his words, “I’m driving my kids home from AV club,” 

“That’s a point in his favor,” Rocky pointed out, the rest of Hellfire immediately turning on him with fierce glares. 

“Rocky,” Eddie snapped, unable to help himself. Steve gave him another confused glance, and Eddie waved it off, silently giving the rest a look. The group began to pack up in earnest, filling up the room with chatter and drowning out the potential pitfall that their youngest member had almost landed them in.

“Have the kids been waiting for you this whole time?” Eddie asked, slightly desperate to change the subject before Steve could speak any of the questions that were clearly starting to form. 

“Nah, they would be climbing the walls by now,” Steve said, shaking his head and fondly smiling to himself, “They’re not exactly the most patient group of people.”

“Our next meeting will be next Wednesday,” Eddie called out over the din. Frank saluted him as he walked out, Janet trailing close to him and disappearing next. 

“What’d you think, Steve?” Kaiden asked. 

“You guys argue a lot less than my kids do. They’re always fighting with Mike- oh uh the dungeon master?” Steve offered, apparently dropping the concern he had. 

The last sentence was phrased more like a question than a statement, so Eddie nodded along, continuing to put away his binders with care, making sure none of the group could sneak a peek at what was to come the next time they met. 

“If we argued with Eddie, he would only kill us faster,” Jeff said with a chuckle. 

“You’ll see when you’re on this side of the table,” Kaiden added, shouldering his backpack, “Maybe next week?” 

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Gareth beat him to it. 

“We haven’t finished the campaign,” He stated bluntly, refusing to look any of them in the eye as he roughly tugged on the zipper of his bag, “We can’t just stop in the middle because a- because someone new decided to show up.”

The brightness on Steve’s features dimmed a little, and his smile went from natural to forced. Eddie bit his tongue to keep the immediate scathing remark at bay, working his jaw back and forth and letting his fingers drum along the table. 

As much as he wanted to jump to Steve’s aid (and remind Gareth exactly who was running this club) Eddie knew that it would be better in the long run to let Steve establish himself in the group and fight his own battles. If Eddie let himself get too defensive, then suspicions would start to rise, and the rest would only ever see Steve as ‘Eddie’s’ and not ‘theirs’. 

Still, it hurt to watch his best friend- a boy he had only ever known to be generous and kind- completely reject Steve on the principle of who he thought he was. 

Gareth was supposed to be better than that. They all were. 

“Welllllll, I guess I’ll have plenty of time to come up with a cool character then,” Steve said with a shrug. His nonchalant tone wasn’t exactly faked, but there was a tension in his shoulders that seemed painful. Eddie jerked his head towards the door, and the remaining members left as a group before anything else could go wrong. It was just him and Steve now. 

“Not too bad for your first time,” Eddie said with a soft grin, doing his best to smooth over the discomfort that had popped up in the last thirty seconds. 

“I’m not sure they were happy to have me there,” Steve shot back. Eddie was honestly kind of impressed with the bluntness of that, the way Steve didn’t seem afraid at all to confront the way they had all treated him. 

“They’ll warm up, I promise,” Eddie replied, trying to sound reassuring as they exited the room and started walking down the hall. 

The look Steve shot him from the side told Eddie everything he needed to know about how much he believed that promise. Eddie sighed loudly, wracking his brain for anything he could say that might help with this. 

“A cool character huh? Maybe your kids can help you with that,” He offered. Steve did smile at this, dipping his head low and trying to hide the dopey grin that was overtaking his face. 

“No way,” Steve said, his eyes quickly flitting to Eddie’s face before turning away, “If they found out I was playing DnD without them? I’d never hear the end of it.”

“So we’re your dirty little secret?” Eddie teased just as they reached the exit. Steve stopped, letting his hand sit on the handle. Eddie looked up at him curiously, only to find Steve was looking at him with complete and utter seriousness. 

“No,” Steve whispered, clearly contemplating his next words, “Not a secret. Just something that’s only mine,” 

Eddie didn’t know if it was the intensity of Steve’s gaze, or the mystery of the words that made him pause, but he hesitated. Something about it all just felt…significant. He needed to say the right thing here. 

Or, at least try to say the right thing. 

“Well, let’s keep it just yours for a while then. Sound good, sweetheart?” 

That was the wrong thing. It had started as the right thing, but that was without a doubt the wrong fucking thing. Eddie with his stupid big fat mouth and idiotic crush. Steve was definitely not coming back. Hell, he might never talk to Eddie ever again. 

A soft chuckle dragged him slowly out of his misery. He looked up, watching as Steve leaned his head back, a gleeful look of joy brightening up even the darkest parts of Eddie’s mind. 

“Sounds perfect,” Steve replied, still smiling. He ducked his head down, and Eddie entertained the wild notion that he might’ve even been blushing for two seconds, before banishing that thought from his mind. He had already played the odds enough today, he didn’t need to risk any more. 

“I could walk you over to the Middle School if you wanted, my liege?” Eddie said, instantly cringing at how overeager that question made him sound. 

“I think I can take care of myself, oh wise dungeon master,” Steve smirked, pushing the door open. 

A sharp blast of the cold November air smacked them both in the face, and Eddie scanned the empty lot. His own van was parked in one corner, and Steve’s beemer was in the other. 

And, standing around said Beemer, was a group of tiny humans. 

“Apparently, going to the middle school isn’t even necessary,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. 

“Steve!” One of the kids shouted, sliding off the hood of the car when he spotted the teen heading towards them. As soon as the boy said his name, the entire horde was scampering over, all of them talking at the same time. 

Steve had told him that he babysat. He had said it multiple times, in fact. 

But Steve saying it, and Eddie seeing five middle schoolers all clamoring for Steve’s attention were two very different things. They were pulling on his hands, tapping on his arms, and the one girl even jumped right on his back without warning. Steve caught her easily, but shot a dirty look at her from the side. 

“Where have you been?!” She shouted above the rest. 

Steve opened his mouth, but the other kids beat him to it. 

“We’ve been out here for ten minutes! Ten! Minutes!” One of the boys added. He was a sweet looking kid, tons of curly hair hidden under a big cap, but he had his hands on his hips and was shaking his head with a disappointed little tut

“Wow, ten whole minutes, Henderson. How did you guys ever survive?” Steve asked, sarcasm flooding every word. He adjusted his grip on the little red haired one and turned to Eddie to roll his eyes.

Eddie couldn’t even make a joke or say anything back, he was too shocked by the reality of Babysitter Steve Harrington. 

“You weren’t answering your walkie,” Another snapped. He was the only one that looked genuinely angry, giving Steve a withering glare, “It’s a Party Rule,” 

“It’s in my bag, Mike,” Steve explained, exasperated, “I was busy. Max, get down, you’re strangling me. Oh, and Lucas, how was your algebra test?” 

The first kid to have spoken up, ‘Lucas’ apparently, began to chat with him, the rest of he boys jumping in and interrupting in normal middle schooler fashion. ‘Max’ did as she was bid while Steve checked in with the rest. She hopped down, looking around bored for a minute before her eyes finally landed on Eddie, who had walked over silently, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Who’s this guy?” 

Eddie opened his mouth to say the words ‘dungeon master’, but he remembered just before he started to speak. 

He was ‘something that was only Steve’s’. Steve didn’t want to share him just yet, and the rush of pleasure that came from that wasn’t worth the glee that would come from watching Steve have to explain that he was playing Dungeons and Dragons without them. 

Eddie slowly shut his mouth and gave Steve a wink above the kids, letting him do the explaining. 

“Just a friend,” 

It wasn’t much of an explanation, but Steve wasn’t done. 

“C’mon, we can get McDonalds on the way home,” Steve added, offering the perfect distraction. 

Instantly chaos reigned again. They all began to shout their orders, running towards the car and yelling at Steve to hurry up. 

“Could we maybe get some for El?” One of the kids asked, walking much slower than the rest. Eddie wasn’t sure who ‘El’ was, but he did recognize this boy. He was pretty sure everyone in Hawkins knew who Will Byers was.

“Good idea,” Steve agreed, ruffling Will’s hair and pulling the kid in as he began to walk away. He turned back for a second and caught Eddie’s eye, giving him a tiny secretive little smile. 

“See you later, Alligator?”

“I guess this is where we part ways,”

“I guess…”

“See you later, Alligator?”

The memory hit Eddie like a truck, nearly bowling him over with its force. Steve was still standing there, still waiting for the answer he was sure was coming. This was where Eddie was supposed to pretend. He was supposed to just say ‘In a while, Crocodile,” walk away, and go home, pretending like those words didn’t matter. 

But he couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. 

Eddie lifted his hand and waved, turning around and walking to his van before he could see how Steve reacted. 

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

#Steve joins hellfire au #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie au #steddie ficlet #st #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things au #Gareth stranger things #post stancy breakup #post s2 #Steve and eddie #st au #stranger things 2 au #Steve and the party #Babysitter Steve harrington #Babysiter steve #Mom Steve harrington #Mom steve #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

[doetic]

There's Doodles of Rams in the Margins - Enemies to lovers!Jschlatt x F!Reader (pt.2)

Masterlist

Plot: Anxiety threatens to ruin Y/n's morning after the disaster of the night she had before. Despite this she pushes on, but her hopes of having a good day is ruined when she finds Schlatt's usual asshole self in her kitchen. Warnings: asshole schlatt, swearing, reader eats eggs. Word Count: 2048

A/n: Shorter than I'd like it to be, but it just felt like a good place to end it. Again, no beta. If there's an error that's just me being all wack in a cool literary way like hemingway

The next morning began significantly better than the night before it. You woke up well rested, your soreness washed away into a dull ache that only made itself known if you stretched your body too hard. For the duration of your morning routine, you didn’t find yourself thinking much about the party at all. In a way, it was as if the sun had washed away what had occurred last night. Every time your brain dredged it up, you reasoned with yourself that it wasn’t as if you’d see much of  Schlatt again anyways, so there wasn’t much point of dwelling on the matter. 

Regardless of your good mood, however, you delayed opening your phone, feeling a pit in your stomach every time you thought of waking up the black sleeping screen to see if anything had gotten out about the incident. Though, from the lack of notifications coming from the device, you felt a little optimistic of Ted’s pull within the group of people that were there to witness it. You distracted yourself from the device by getting dressed, not yet wanting to discard your fairly good mood by giving into the temptation to unlock your phone. Even the sight of it sent a jolt of anxiety through your body. Instead, you opted to occupy your thoughts by getting dressed. You needed to go out and grab toothpaste anyways, and you’ve spent far too much money on clothes – as an immigrant to the U.S, you found yourself falling victim to the enticingly luxurious L.A lifestyle quite often – to go out in just athleisure. 

The smell of eggs wafting from the kitchen had you instantly on guard. Shae made you eggs usually as a way to butter you up before breaking something big. When Shae would serve you a plate, she would often wait for you to get about halfway into the dish before breaking whatever news she had stored in her mouth to you with an apologetic wince, as if each forkful you lifted to  your mouth were seconds counting down on a clock.

You hoped it was nothing too bad, today was the day you were to sift through the new roommates Shae had found to replace her. She was the reason you moved to L.A, to live with your lifelong pen-pal best friend, and thought it unfair that her moving in with Ted would uproot your newly settled life unless she found someone to cover her half of the rent. The Ted part was a surprise to you when she brought up the matter at lunch yesterday – you had thought she was just always over at a hookup’s place rather than a man she was intending to get serious with – but otherwise the day had been both anxiously and excitingly looming over you. You knew Shae wouldn’t do you wrong, certainly you’d become fast friends with the new addition to the apartment, something you looked forward to with your current counter of friends in the area adding up to a whopping one.

You tried not to let the feeling of impending doom that prickled at your every nerve bring you down from the good mood you woke up in – a good mood that seemed increasingly fragile as the day carried on. You intended to move into the open kitchen and living room space with a sense of purpose, though you felt sure your tentative curiosity was evident in your gait. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Your words escaped your mouth faster than your eyes could process the sight before them. Seated at your kitchen island, with a haggard, hungover expression, was Schlatt. Beside him was Ted, who paused his conversation with his friend to look back and forth between you and Shae – her anxious form positioned at the stove with a guilty smile – with worry. 

The sight before you was like ice water being poured upon your warm, happy body. Although you were not physically shaking, the anger that vibrated within your form was akin to violent shivering. 

“Quiet down toots, m’head hurts,” There was the nickname again, emerging from his throat like a groan. If he were less infuriating, perhaps, it would have made your heart skip a beat. However the attractive man’s attitude far outweighed his appearance. 

“I…made eggs?” Shae gave you a nervous grin.

You narrowed your eyes at the group and ignored the only open seat at the island beside Schlatt, opting to walk over and lean against the side of the island countertop. 

“Ted, why do you look like a kid in trouble?” His guilty eyes darted away from your face. From his expression, it seemed as if pressing for an answer from him would be faster than waiting for Shae’s likely roundabout explanation. “What’s going on?”

Ted opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Schlatt, whose eyes squinted in pain at the sight of the window behind you. “I’m your new roomie, surprise.” His voice was harsh towards you, but turned more polite as he addressed Shae. “Can I have some more eggs, please?”

“Shae don’t you dare give him my apology eggs,” You narrowed your eyes. She instead plated the eggs that were in the pan and slid them, along with a fork, across the counter your way. “Is he being for real?” 

Shae waited in tense silence for half of the egg to be eaten – as was custom, although with the small size of the egg and your morning hunger it took less time than usual – before she replied.

“I planned it before you two met, and it's too late to change it up now. Finding someone decent this late wouldn’t be easy, if possible,” She explained. Although she seemed like she didn’t care too much about the matter, it was apparent to you, having known her for so long, that she wasn’t too enthused about the situation either and was putting on a polite facade around Schlatt. 

“I’m right here,” Schlatt spoke up. “Like I’m currently in the room as you speak about me.”

“Oh don’t worry, Schlatt. I’m all too aware of your presence,”  You verbally jabbed at him in between forkfuls.

He let out a sardonic laugh, “Obsessive much?” 

You conjured up a daydream of diving across the table and shaking Schlatt violently. 

Ted – who had seemed like little more than Shae’s ornamentally passive malewife in every prior interaction involving Schlatt’s douchebaggery – interrupted your thoughts and for once spoke up before a glare from his girlfriend was sent his way. His face was painted with a sense of confusion and annoyance at his friend's behaviour. Was Schlatt not usually this stuck up? You felt even more annoyed at the notion that he was just this prideful around you specifically, you hadn’t done anything to him! 

“Shut up, man. Let’s get a head start on moving Shae’s boxes,” Ted’s words seemed to shock Schlatt a bit, and you had to respect Ted a bit for it – although you believed you’d always dislike and distrust him as the boyfriend of your best friend. With Ted’s words, Schlatt got up and headed to Shae’s room, leaving you and your friend alone. At least he had put his dishes in the sink before leaving.

“What’s his fucking deal?” Once the two were confidently out of earshot, you plopped down in the empty seat you had refused to sit in before with a groan.

“I don’t know,” Shae leaned against the island with her elbows. “He’s always been pretty nice to me and everyone else I’ve seen him with,” A sigh deflated her body slightly. “That’s why I thought he’d be a good roommate… well that and his income. I knew with his wealth he’d easily be able to afford rent. The only reason he doesn’t have a house is because it’s a hassle to go through the process of owning.” 

“Is he some bigshot youtuber like Ted?” You finished the last of your eggs. 

“Bigger, four million.”

You snorted, recalling his attitude and miserable appearance around you. “Those four million people must be fucking miserable.”

“I’m not too happy about this either Y/n. The way he treats you is so fucked, especially last night. Ted took care of that by the way, he’s got a lot of friends. You shouldn’t see it posted.”

“Ted’s still on thin ice,” Shae shot you an incredulous look. “Hey! I care about you, I just met the man! I can’t trust him too quickly. But anyways, thank him for me.”

Shae gave you a satisfied smile before getting back to the topic. “Don’t worry Y/n, it won’t be too long. Just until Schlatt gets his shit together and can get a place to live in Texas again. He’s been going through some housing issues, he needs this place. He shouldn’t be too bothersome.”

You snorted. “I think we’re far past that point.”

“Ted thinks Schlatt’s just embarrassed by how drunk he was. He’s prideful and doesn’t really like being wrong, or in the wrong. Maybe he’s got too much pride to apologise and is just doubling down? That doesn’t make it okay, regardless.”

“That's such a man thing to do. I see this all the time when people write to me. Why are men such…” You searched for the word before crying out in exasperation. “...men!” 

“It all boils down to the patriarchy,” Shae shrugged. “That's why I like my boyfriends like Ted, whipped.”

“Eww! TMI!” You teased, intentionally taking her words in the wrong way to mess with her. 

“Not like that! You know what I meant!” Shae squealed and hit you with the dishtowel light-heartedly. You caught it and stood up laughing, collecting your dishes in your free hand and heading to the sink. She stopped you, taking the items from you. “No, you had a shit morning. I’ll do it. Besides, I saw you talking with some guy last night. Take the time I’m saving you to text him and tell me about it after.” 

You weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Okay, thank you Shae.” You relented. “But I’m taking you out for goodbye drinks tonight as a thank you when I do!” You smiled, heading down the hallway, not letting her protest the implications that you'd be paying.

You knew eavesdropping was bad, but with your room right beside Shae’s in the hallway, you preferred the phrase ‘overhearing while loitering’ to describe how you stopped in your tracks in front of your door at the sound of Schlatt and Ted’s voices. “Be nice man, she means a lot to Shae and Shae means a lot to me,” Ted scolded his friend. “But not too nice, like not falling in love nice. That doesn't usually work out with roommates.”

You hated how you were coming to know Schlatt so well that your brain autofilled in the quiet chuckle you were sure he let out at Ted's words. “She’s alright looking, but not hot enough to tempt me.”

You had to hold back the offended gasp that intruded uncomfortably in your throat.

“She was hot enough to attract Hasan–”

“Hasan’s a–!” You didn’t hear the rest of Schlatt’s thoughts, angrily retreating into your room. What an asshole, how much more stuck up could he be! It wasn’t as if you wanted his attention, but the frank way he stated it had you fuming at the impoliteness of it all. You had done nothing to this man, and yet he was rude to you for what? His damn pride? Well he could certainly take his damn pride and shove it–!

You flopped onto your bed and muffled your angry yell with your pillow. It took a few moments for you to calm down your rage filled body before you rolled over onto your back and pulled out your phone that had been confirmed safe, creating a new text to the contact saved under Hasan. The lingering sting of Schlatt’s words was something you wanted to get over, and a meeting with the attractive man who seemed to be into you sounded perfect right now. Your fingers quickly tapped on the phone keyboard, desperate for a distraction.

[Y/n]: Hey Hasan, It’s Y/n from last night!

//

Tags: @ghostyoongs

#jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfic

[steddiealltheway]

Part Nine of Not-So-Secret Secret Admirer!!!!!!!!! Part One. Part Eight. AO3 Link.

It’s been a week since Eddie has been to Family Video, and he isn’t any closer to figuring out how to live his life without Steve. Instead, he’s figuring out how to avoid Steve which also means trying to avoid Dustin and the other kids so no one tries to interfere with things. Wayne has been giving him space while also being persistent that he eats and gets out every once in a while. 

And Eddie... he’s actually written a few songs. Not for Corroded Coffin because they’re the slowest, most depressing music that he would never want another soul – and especially his bandmates – to hear, but they’re just for him to try to make something out of what he’s feeling. But this also means that he just kind of wallows. 

There’s a knock on the trailer door and Eddie waits a minute, hoping that they’ll just go away. But then the knocking gets really persistent, so Eddie gets out of bed and flings the door open. 

“Red?” 

Max stands on the other side of the door, walkie in hand. “We need a ride,” she says. 

Eddie crosses his arms. “Who?” 

“The whole party. We’re having a movie night tonight at Steve’s, but we need to get a movie from Family Video. You’re invited too by the way.” 

Eddie can feel a look of panic settle over his face that Max catches immediately. “What?” 

He takes a moment to debate how detrimental it would be to turn down the ride, but he knows that would only have Max trying to pry the truth out of him. If he accepts the ride, he can just make some lame excuse about not wanting to go inside, and maybe the kids won’t notice. 

“Nothing, I just have something to do so you guys need to be quick. And I won’t be able to make it tonight,” Eddie says, hoping that’s enough to keep Max from sensing something’s wrong.  

Max looks at him for a moment, and Eddie prepares to be interrogated until she holds up her walkie and says, “Eddie said yes.” 

“Any excuse to see Steve, I swear,” comes Dustin’s answering response. 

Eddie holds out his hand to Max who hands over the walkie. “You realize I can hear you, right?” Eddie asks. 

There’s no response which Eddie interprets as Dustin likely swearing in his room. Eddie grabs his keys off the counter and feels very thankful that he had decided to shower and put on clean clothes that morning as he climbs into his van. Time to make a few stops. 

Once everyone is in the van, Eddie tries to not participate at all in the conversation, hoping that they won’t bring up- 

“So, Eddie, how’s the admirer stuff going?” Mike of all people pipes up. 

Shit shit shit. Eddie sits in the anticipatory silence and decides he needs to come clean. “It’s not happening anymore.” 

The car erupts, but mainly everyone is asking, “So, you’re dating now?” 

Eddie scoffs, “No, actually, Steve isn’t really talking to me right now.” 

“That’s why Steve has been so upset because Mom and Dad are fighting,” Dustin jokes, but Lucas ends up hitting him on the arm and shaking his head. 

“More like Mom divorced Dad,” Eddie says. The car goes silent. 

Will ends up speaking up, “So, what happened?” 

Eddie figures that he might as well tell them. “Robin and I set him up with a random girl who pretended to be the admirer, and Steve found out it was all a lie and that everyone except him knew about it. So be careful today, he might be mad at you all, too.” 

In the rearview mirror, Eddie sees Max shaking her head before she starts whispering to El. Luckily, she doesn’t voice her thoughts out loud. 

The rest of the drive is short but filled with awkward fleeting silence as they try and fail to start a new conversation. Seems like everyone is anticipating their impending doom: a Steve Harrington lecture. 

Eddie pulls into the parking lot of Family Video which is strangely empty beside Steve’s car. One of these days, Eddie will show up on Steve’s day off. “Have fun,” Eddie says as they start climbing out of his van. 

When the final door closes, Eddie nearly slumps in relief before his driver-side door opens up. Max and El stand next to his door with matching intense looks of determination. “You’re coming with us, and if you don’t go willingly, El will make this very hard for you,” Max says with her arms crossed and eyebrows slightly raised. 

Being threatened with superpowers was definitely not something Eddie had factored in when bringing them there, but there's no way he's getting out of this. “Okay, okay,” Eddie says and climbs out of the van. His legs are shaking and his heart is already pounding. He hopes Steve is on his break. 

When he walks through the door and glances around, he nearly jumps for joy as he sees that Steve really might actually be on his break because he’s nowhere in sight. There’s only Robin who looks highly concerned. “What are you doing here?” she asks lowly then glances toward the backroom where Steve must be. 

“I’m being held here against my will,” Eddie says and cocks his head towards El. 

Robin crosses her arms and gives El a look. “Okay, you may think you’re helping, but Steve just started talking and even joking with me again and somewhat started to pretend things are normal between us. And I’ve been apologizing for weeks now. I have no idea what he’s going to do if he sees all of us here at once.” 

It’s a fair point. Eddie turns to El and nods, “I absolutely agree, and I’m pretty sure I’m the last person he wants to see. So, I’m going to head back to the van, and I’ll see you guys soon.” 

Eddie turns to leave, but his feet don’t move. What the hell? He tries to pick them up but it’s like he’s stuck in cement or something. He looks at El who has a thin trail of blood running down from her nose. “El, seriously let me go.” 

There’s a bit of commotion as Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike realize what’s happening and start telling her to cut it out. Max argues with them and tells them it’s for the best while Robin panickily tells them they need to lower their volume or Steve- 

"What the hell is going on?” Steve asks as the door to the breakroom flies open. He freezes as he makes eye contact with Eddie. 

Eddie’s heart seems to stop beating. This is the moment he’s been simultaneously dreading and looking forward to. 

Steve looks... rough. Well, nothing compared to his usual bright self that Eddie had gotten so accustomed to. The lines between his eyebrows are more creased than usual, there’s a tenseness to his whole body but it seems especially concentrated in his shoulders, and the weird thing that really gets Eddie is that his hair looks... flat. 

He’s still gorgeous, and no matter what he does, he always will be. But he also looks like he’s stopped taking care of himself as much as he used to. Eddie knows he doesn’t look any better – actually, he most definitely looks worse. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks more confused than accusatory. 

Eddie tilts his head to the right. “I wasn’t going to come in, I promise. They’re kind of holding me hostage.” 

Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike all start loudly explaining that it isn’t them, but Steve waves a hand through the air and they all go silent. “El, let Eddie go,” Steve says with his hands coming to his hips. 

Eddie feels a weight lifted off of him and he can’t help but let his gaze linger on Steve for a moment. Steve nods at him with his lips in a tight line. Eddie turns around and pushes the front door open. 

At least, he would push it open, but it won’t budge. He curses under his breath and tries the other one which also won’t budge. He turns back to El who looks away as if she didn’t do anything. 

“Okay, what do you want?” Eddie asks. 

“For this all to be over,” Max answers instead of El. 

Steve shakes his head and lets out a humorless laugh. 

“You know what,” Max says, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life. Sure, yes, everyone knew about the plan. But the thing is, we all knew that Eddie was in love with Steve, right?” 

The rest of the party and even Robin nod hesitantly. “And I don’t know about anyone else, but I thought it was all an elaborate way for Eddie to finally confess his feelings to Steve.” 

“Yeah, I mean, I thought that was pretty obvious,” Lucas comments and holds his hands up when Eddie shoots him a look. 

Steve crosses his arms and says, “No, it was a way to get me to shut up about my dating life. Plus, isn’t your whole thing ‘friends don’t lie?’”  

The Party all look at each other guiltily, but Will is the one who manages to say, “What about the whole thing with Dustin’s leg?” 

“The what?” Dustin asks. 

“Oh yeah,” Lucas says with a smile, “You were complaining about how horrible your broken leg was all the time. Then, when I hurt my ankle, we kind of played up how badly I had hurt it. And you suddenly got all brave and stopped complaining and even showed me some exercises to help it get better.” 

Dustin looks at everyone and points at them. “You all knew this?!” 

Eddie glances around as everyone, including Steve, starts to nod. Somehow, Eddie had missed this. 

“But, after that, you stopped complaining and your leg started to actually heal a lot faster. You even started to talk about things other than your leg for once, and it felt like we got the real Dustin back,” Mike says. “But sorry man, we were only trying to help.” 

Everyone chimes in to apologize, but Dustin cuts them off, “I’m going to be pissed for a while, but I will admit that it was nice to pretend to be better than Lucas for a bit. Plus... my leg did heal faster – even the doctor was surprised.” 

“Yeah, compare faking a love interest to healing a broken leg,” Eddie mutters. 

“If you think about it, it’s kind of the same,” El says. Eddie gives her a look before she continues, “Dustin broke his leg, and even though we faked the intensity of Lucas’s injury, the injury was still real. It even resulted in Dustin’s leg getting better. For Steve, he had a broken... heart or ego, and although the love interest was fake, Eddie’s love for Steve was not fake, and that’s why I don’t understand why Steve’s heart is not healed.”

“That was really good El,” Will whispers to her encouragingly, and she smiles back at him. 

“His heart isn’t healed because we all lied to him, and I didn’t start off this fake thing to win him over or whatever. I didn’t even have feelings for him when it started,” Eddie admits although the truth is painful. 

“Bullshit,” Dustin says. 

“Language,” Steve quietly warns him. 

“No, I also call bullshit,” Robin agrees. 

Then, several people speak up about how it’s all bullshit, and Eddie remembers what that word means to Steve and sees him quickly break. “It’s bullshit that I had feelings for him before the secret admirer bullshit, and then I fell in love with him when he was faking it all because you guys didn’t want to hear me rant to you. Did you not realize you could’ve just talked to me? You could have said, ‘Steve, we love you, but please shut up about your love life.’ And I would’ve listened. But instead, you went on an elaborate scheme to trick me, and I had to embarrass myself in the process because everyone knew. And then you set me up on a fake date with some stranger who I didn’t get along with at all because you thought I would be stupid enough to believe that I would think she was the admirer and for some reason I would instantly fall for her.” 

Fell in love? Feelings before? Eddie glances toward Steve who is flushed red, hands on his hips, looking at everyone except him. Without the stupid admirer plot, he could’ve ended up with Steve and never hurt him. If he would’ve just talked to him…If any of them would have just talked to him. 

A silence falls over the group, and Eddie takes a moment to sit in it. It really was always that simple. 

It feels like Eddie’s heart is breaking all over again as he mourns what could’ve been. 

“You could’ve just talked to me, too,” Dustin says and his friends glare at him. “What? While we’re all getting the truth out, I thought I’d mention it.” 

“Ok,” Max begins, with her eyebrows furrowed as if she’s making everything up as she goes, “We did a really bad thing. To both of you. And we’re all really sorry. Right?” 

Everyone mumbles apologies to Dustin and Steve, and Steve even says one to Dustin. Max continues, “But we’ve been through too much to have this be the thing that tears us apart. I mean, Eddie almost died. And I thought you barely knew him, Steve, but you were almost as much of a wreck as Dustin.” 

“It’s true,” Robin chimes in, “I had to make you eat and pry you out of that hospital room.” 

Steve shoots Robin a warning look which makes Eddie realize that they’re telling the truth. 

“And when Eddie woke up, the first thing he asked after he saw me and Wayne was where Steve was,” Dustin adds. 

Eddie racks his brain for the memory but comes up blank. “I don’t remember that. Why didn’t anyone tell me this?” 

“I asked them not to say anything about my pre-wake-up visits,” Steve admits looking right at Eddie. “But no one told me about what you said.” 

The kids glance around guiltily again, and El blurts out, “We took bets on when you two would figure it out.” 

The kids all groan and shriek while Max defends her and yells, “Friends don’t lie!” which shuts everyone up. 

Eddie takes a moment to sit in the feeling of everyone lying to him as well plus the sudden information that explains why he and Steve were all the sudden very buddy-buddy after his hospital stay – not that he minded of course. But somehow, they had both fallen for each other during their brief time together and Eddie’s short comatose state seemed to enhance that. But for some reason, Eddie had just refused to accept his growing crush on Steve until this admirer shit.

“Anything else anyone would like to admit?” Steve asks sounding like he’s holding back a fit of anger. Everyone looks around and then starts shaking their head, but Eddie’s gaze remains away from Steve. “Then let’s just move on from this like we always do,” Steve says and heads towards the back room. 

Eddie looks down at the ring he’s fidgeting with on his finger. Steve’s ring. He slides it off. “Wait.” 

Steve stops in his tracks and hesitantly turns around. 

Carefully, Eddie makes his way toward Steve and holds out the ring to him. 

“Holy shit, are you proposing?” Dustin yells. 

Eddie shoots him a look while Steve warns language. “No, it’s a peace offering,” Eddie admits then looks to Steve. “Doesn’t mean you’re suddenly not mad or that you’re forgiving me. Just lets me know that eventually, we might be okay.” 

Steve looks at the ring and then at Eddie. Slowly, he makes his way over, reaches out, and slips it on. 

Eddie takes a moment to look at the image of him still holding the ring which is now around Steve’s ring finger. It looks so distinctly right that it sends a shiver down his spine. He slowly glances up to Steve who stares back at him with what looks like a million things he’s trying to say in his gaze. Eddie’s about to apologize all over again and beg for a second chance when- 

“Thank god that’s over. Steve, can we have a movie night tonight at your place?” Dustin asks. Eddie shoots him another look of disbelief. That little shit.  

“You didn’t ask him already?” Mike shrieks while Lucas and Will simultaneously facepalm. 

Max and El start to lecture him when Steve reluctantly takes his hand back and whispers, "You should leave now before I give them all the worst talk they’ve ever received.” Eddie smiles at him and Steve gives him a small smile in return that makes it feel like a bit of weight has been lifted off of Eddie’s shoulders. 

He’s able to sneak out just as Steve says, “Alright, listen up...” 

Eddie waits in his van for a concerning amount of time, but he takes it to acknowledge that he isn’t yet forgiven but maybe he’s a few steps closer to not losing Steve for good. But mostly he hopes that maybe one day Steve won’t feel so hurt. 

The doors to Family Video open revealing the guiltiest group of teens that Eddie has ever seen. They all file into the car and Eddie can’t help but tease, “I’m guessing no movie tonight?” 

He gets a few glares in return, but El says, “He said maybe Friday,” which seems to bring some joy back to her. 

Eddie smiles. He knows that Steve will forever be a sucker to those kids, but maybe they’ve learned a few things for now. Only time will tell.

Part Ten

Tag List <3:

@wrenisflying @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ghostlyjax @wheatnoodle @yet-still-more-banched @moonshadows-13 @princessstevemunson @adankrivervalleynearyou @manda-panda-monium @brassreign @bornonthesavage @unclewaynemunson @bird-with-pencils @themardlonk @fangirltofangod @csinnamon-fox @mightbeasleep @theysherobinbuckley

@writtenbyancientskeletonhats @nagitoeatsnillacharms73 @duckyreads @hellykelly @glittergluekintsugi @rainydays35 @thatonespacek1d @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @paperbackribs @anaibis @adaydreamaway08 @steviesbicrisis @madaboutmunson2 @goose-on-the-loose @dangdirtydemons @whimsicalwitchm @aftermidnightwriting @toasted-ghosty @queerbeansworld @aryakanojiaa @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @queerriotgrrrl @iwouldsail @hellomynameismoo @r0semaryyy @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona @pomegranatebb @piningapple @love-kurdt @wallpaper-inside-my-heart @eddiesbabe95 @isaacisunsure @adankrivervalleynearyou @sleepdeprivedflower @gay-little-bitch @ely-seum @tillystealeaves @yes-im-your-mom @ceaselessly-watching @evix-syne666 @sweetharmonychilde @myhorseis-regularsized @homosexual-having-tea @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @henderdads

@spectrum-spectre @phantypurple @britishmysteries @mad-h-w @marivictal @gamerdano @cutiecusp @staninggaycouples @doctorqueensanatomy @virgil-is-a-cutie @sleepy-time @adankrivervalleynearyou @satan-is-obsessed @novelnovella @lottaweirdnameshere @bidisastersworld @justreadingabooksstuff @me-1-2 @shinekocreator @e-dollly @thelittleclare @ajeff855 @estrellami-1 @haluton @hoffmannwrites

@thehumblefigtree @eddiemunsonswife @otterology @precursorandthedragon @th1gh-s @ironydude @space-invading-pigeon @sofadofax @sunfloweringstories @swingset-sunset @myhero-thelastrealdreamer @eddiemunsonsupremecy

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fanfic

[azriel-scum]

It Wasn't Supposed to be This Way Part 3

Warnings: domestic abuse, mentions of sexual abuse and semi-graphic scene toward the end. Please do not read if this will trigger you!

Elara was shaking and trying very hard to control her breathing.

It wasn't just that Merikh had been in her face, gripping her harshly, dangerously close to recreating the events of the night before.

It wasn't just that Azriel had potentially discovered what was going on before she could fix it herself.

It was the intense feeling in her chest. The intense wave of shock and anxiety that had slammed into her. She had never felt emotions that intensely before, not even on Merikh's worst nights.

Azriel continued to stand there.

With restless and shaking hands she gathered up the scattered papers and books on her desk, having no idea if she actually needed any of it.

Azriel was still just standing there.

"Azriel, did you need something?" Her attempt at being composed came out breathy and rushed.

Still speechless, he just stood there. Opened his mouth. Closed it. And then settled on just shaking his head.

She picked up her haphazard pile of papers and made toward the door.

Azriel stepped to the side, out of the doorway and found his voice.

"I think Cassian wanted to discuss having his soldiers doing some city patrol shifts. He's upstairs."

Elara nodded her head and walked out the door. Taking two steps down the hallway before Azriel speaks again.

"El -" She paused in the hallway but didn't turn around.

Before he could finish, shouting erupts from down the hall.

Merikh, distraught and furious, screaming. She can't see him, but she knows it's him. Would recognize that kind of shouting anywhere, from her nightmares, from the drunken nights, from the daylight when he would track her down in the city.

Rhsyand. He was screaming at Rhysand. This couldn't be happening, someone she had brought around, someone she had gotten a job was screaming at the High Lord.

He was screaming at Rhysand; the High Lord was deathly silent.

For Elara, everything went black. The shouting was more than just yelling between two men. It triggered in her a reaction like nothing else in her life.

A warrior, a female who had seen unfathomable tragedy; had seen death occur in such unnatural, unimaginable ways over and over and over again - had even caused it by her own hands. As a young female, she'd seen abuse that was indescribable, memories that would play in a trance over and over again as she tried to sleep. Yet, none of those things triggered a reaction in her like the one she was having in this moment.

Elara had barely made it out of the doorway when the yelling started, now her body was frozen and none of her senses were working.

Azriel appeared next to her. "El maybe we should -" he reached out a hand to usher her back into the office, but Elara stuck out a stiff arm, commanding him to stay back.

A wave of nausea had overcome her and it was taking everything in her to not gag in front of Azriel. Gods how embarrassing would that be.

Elara had tried so hard to keep her interactions with the inner circle strictly business. She would consider all of them her friends, her closest confidants when it came to work, when it came to the battle field, but when it came to her personal life, she didn't typically factor them at all. It was a defense mechanism, a way to shield herself, and her heart, from being hurt.

Rhysand was the closest thing she had to an older sibling, he had saved her life and her family, but even still they rarely had conversations that didn't revolve around work. He was busy and she was happy to keep her personal life outside of his radar.

If you never have anything, you can never lose anything.

Elara had already lost so much in her life and felt the impending doom of losing her mother day in and day out. Every single day she mourned the loss of someone who was still here and every single day she worried about the safety of her siblings. And every single day she worried about the safety of the citizens of Velaris. There was nothing else she could attach her heart to.

And so she ran to the bathroom. One for the impending nausea and two for the escape of anyone who cared for her, who wanted to be a friend.

Her knees hit the tile and her chest hit the front of the toilet. As she kneeled on the floor and wretched, it was the loneliest she had ever felt in her life.

Elara leaned back against the door, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. No one had followed her to the bathroom, no one had knocked on the door. She assumed Azriel knew of her intense desire to be left alone and with all the commotion downstairs she was the last person on anyone's mind.

She couldn't stop thinking about that feeling in her chest. The intensity of it, the unfamiliarity.

Finally, she stood up on shaky legs, picking up her papers and notes that were strewn across the floor and walked out of the bathroom. The hallway outside her office was empty and the shouting had stopped. She walked toward the window, hoping to simply fly out of the house undetected - no such luck.

From around the corner, Rhys walked toward Elara, looking concerned. He looked at her, his eyes asking if she was okay. She gave a soft nod.

Silently she said to Rhys. I'll be back tomorrow, Do you need anything before then?

Before he could respond, Merikh came up behind Rhys, Azriel and Cassian quickly following behind him. Elara made brief eye contact with Merikh and that feeling from her chest returned. Before, her anxiety had covered the feeling that she wasn't able to discern the feeling, but now she knew exactly what it was. A small tug, right where her heart lays.

No.

This had to be some awful horrible mistake, some kind of cosmic mistake.

Maybe she was wrong, maybe this wasn't the mating bond. After all, how would she even know what it felt like?

Only from hearing it be described for hundreds of years of her life.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Merikh stopped in front of her. Cassian and Azriel were still standing behind him looking weary of his actions and Rhys just watched him apprehensively.

Elara had to keep reminding herself that they didn't know, they didn't know that he was violent with her, maybe Azriel was suspicious, but she could easily dispel that. In the seconds that she stood staring at Merikh, she reimagined her entire life. No one knew how horrible he had been to her, she could start out with him on a fresh slate. Surely the mating instinct would kick in for him and he would be protective of her, not want to hurt her anymore. This could be good for him, it could give him the purpose for his life that he's been searching for. They could be happy together, Elara thought. They weren't so different after all, they had been through a lot in their lives and neither one of them coped especially well, but surely surely there was a reason for this bond from the Mother.

She searched his eyes, trying to see if the bond had snapped for him too. The only thing she saw in him was anxiety.

"Lara I - I wanted to apologize for earlier. I - I shouldn't have talked about you getting r- attacked in Illyria and -"

Is he always this insufferable? The words came into her mind from Rhysand and she had to push her lips together to smother her reaction and keep her face neutral. It was abundantly clear that the shouting match had ended in Rhys forcing him to apologize.

Merikh stumbled through the rest of his apology, nothing more than a disjointed handful of words that didn't go together. Elara said nothing when he was done speaking just nodded her head once. Even though Rhys had put him up to this, maybe this could be the start of the clean slate she so desperately wanted. With her mate.

She winnows them down to the streets out the House of Wind and they walk home together. They don't hold hands, there's some tension, but Elara thinks maybe things will be okay. They chat easily, nothing serious, but they cover all of the small talk. As they near their apartment, he ventures to ask about her mother and siblings.

Elara tenses, she knows that out of all the conversations they could have, this one is probably the most volatile. For once though, she lets herself take a breath and relax. If she doesn't get defensive, maybe he won't either.

"I saw them, they're doing well. Enny and Vira are doing well in school, I'm very proud of them."

Merikh nods, but doesn't add anything and Elara thinks she's okay with him listening and not always having to respond.

Over the next few days, there's still some nervousness, they both seem apprehensive toward each other, as if they are a new couple that's just starting to date. Elara tries to work out if Merikh feels anything of the bond on his end, but there's been nothing to suggest that he had.

A couple weeks passed and Elara couldn't remember the last time she felt a tug in her chest. Was this how things were supposed to be? You get comfortable enough with your mate and things just get easier? Maybe your less aware of the bond, don't feel it everyday.

Elara had been busy with work over the last few weeks and it seemed that so was Merikh. They rarely crossed paths with each other, but when they did Merikh had been...good. He had made her dinner twice, they had sat on the couch together and chatted easily, they laid in bed together. It had been a very long time since they had been intimate together, but Merikh had started to initiate; in the past by the time Elara had gotten home Merikh would already be drunk or passed out, but he had been drinking less and was much more present. Being intimate with him was...fine. It wasn't something she loved doing, but she didn't hate it either. They didn't talk about work, or her mother or anything else of importance, but they also hadn't fought. Things were unremarkable, but they weren't bad. This was the person that the universe had chosen for her and maybe, just maybe, this is how things were supposed to be.

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

Today, Elara woke up sore.

She had bruises on her waist and sides from Merikh gripping her last night.

She hadn't said no last night.

She had agreed to be with him, but she hadn't known how excited he was going to get.

Maybe these bruises are okay, proof that he loves her, proof that they had made love.

They were not bruises borne from violence or aggression, but were they from love?

Elara wasn't sure.

She spent her morning making her rounds through the city. Stopping in and talking to shop owners, and visiting the school. Around mid morning she headed back to the training rings at the house of wind. Sometimes, she wasn't in the mood to train with others and preferred to work out by herself.

On her way to the rings, Elara was feeling a high of gratitude and happiness. How very lucky she was to be leading this city, to be trusted with the wellbeing of its citizen and the security of its borders. How very lucky she was to have had a second lease on life, but this was the promise of Velaris. A safe haven, a paradise, a place of redemption.

She flew up to the rings, landed gracefully and then promptly got to work.

The bruises made it hard to do any kind of core workout, but she did her best. The sweat and endorphins from lifting weights and doing exercises freed her mind and released her of the crippling anxiety.

In the middle of a bench pass, Cassian suddenly appears and is pulling the bar up from Elara's chest and racking it.

"I didn't need your help." She sits up on the bench and turns around to see the Illyrian general smirking.

"I know. I want to spar."

Sighing, she stood and looked at him to assess how serious he was being. He raised his eyebrows in a challenge, daring her to say no. Elara was in no shape to spar and she knew it. On a regular day, she could easily give Cassian a run for his money, but today she was far too fragile to move the way she needed to.

"I need to make sure our governess can still keep the city safe." He was smiling like a cat, knowing he gave a challenge she couldn't possibly say no to.

And then they were in the ring, a flurry of punches, ducking and defensive stances. Elara's mid section was on fire, but the thrill and adrenaline from the fight made her forget everything. She was completely dialed in until there was that feeling in her chest again. A tug on the bond. She hadn't felt it in weeks and it sent her heart into her stomach. Gasping, she lost control of her stance and Cassian landed a hit on her, squarely in her abdomen. She stumbled back, falling into the corner. The breath was completely knocked out of her, her chest and lungs were burning.

"Shit El. Are you okay?"

Elara couldn't catch her breath and it was making her start to panic. Between the sudden tug in her chest that she hadn't expected to the all the sensitive areas of her bruises flaring up, the punch Cassian had landed almost felt like an afterthought.

And now she hyperventilating and couldn't make eye contact with Cassian. This was embarrassing. She was so unable to be loved that she couldn't even handle the feeling of the bond, had a panic attack every time she was reminded of its presence.

He kneeled down in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"El, you've got to breathe. Deep breaths."

Slowly, with the soothing sounds of his voice she calmed down.

"Sorry, Cass. I've just been feeling off today, I think I might be getting sick or someth-"

"El," he's looking right into her eyes and it feels so vulnerable and she knows she has to get out of here.

"El, what's going on?" His eyes had travelled down to her waist, where her shirt had ridden up. Following his line of sight, Elara knows she has to make a decision. Does everything about Merikh unravel right here, or does she tell Cassian an embarassing half truth about where the bruises came from.

It was a no brainer.

"Rough training session last night." It was meant to come out as a joke, but the delivery was half-hearted and Cassian doesn't react in the slightest, just continues looking at her.

Finally, he helps her stand up. She's leaning on him heavily and still trying her best to take deep breaths. She turns around and flinches slightly when she sees Azriel is standing in the doorway of the training rings.

When had he gotten here? How much had he seen?

"Cass, we have to go for a meeting with Devlon." He doesn't say anything to Elara, but catches her eyes for a moment before looking back to Cassian.

The general looked reluctant to leave Elara, but they had a meeting and Azriel was waiting.

Quickly, she took her out. "I'll see the both of you later, have a good meeting." She winnows away before she can even register either of their reactions.

Elara ends the workday in her office, handling some correspondences and then meeting with Sylas about visiting Windhaven. They had identified the citizen of Velaris that defected out to the rogue camp, a young male named Taron. Despite everything, Elara felt empathy for him; he seemed lost, like he was searching for a purpose, she only hoped sense could be talked into him.

After her meeting with Sylas, she'd finishing up some paperwork, slowly, because she dreads going home to Merikh right now more than anything else. A note appears on top of her paperwork in Rhy's handwriting.

My office please, when you can.

After a few deep breaths, she winnowed down the hall and into his office. Rhysand was sitting at his desk, leaned back in his chair with a glass of bourbon. It wasn't unusual for him to end his day with a drink, and Elara knew Rhysand was a good male, but seeing him with the drink put her on edge. It felt too similar to what she been coming home to for the last few years.

He gestured to the seat.

She sat.

The nerves building, logically she knew he probably just wanted to talk about work, but there had been too many close calls recently and the risk of the truth coming out felt far too eminent.

"How are you feeling about your trip to Windhaven?"

"I feel good, Sylas and I finalized our plans today. I'm not excited to be back at the camp, but I know it's necessary."

He nods his head, but doesn't say anything else. Elara refuses to fill the silence.

"I'm concerned about this wayward group in Windhaven, but I'm more concerned about any of their members being in Velaris." Rhys finally says.

"Me as well, I've been working with Cassian to have more patrols and I've been speaking with citizens almost daily to catch anything suspicious , as far as any of us can tell there hasn't been any more activity in the city."

Rhys leans back further in his chair, looking at her intensely.

"I'm concerned about your partner and the access he has to the governess of the city."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm concerned about Merikh. Azriel and Cassian are concerned about his connections in Illyria. And I don't think you've been entirely honest with us."

Elara could feel her power stirring up in her, threatening to blow over.

"What are you trying to say?"

Rhys stands from his chair and walks around until he's leaning against the front of his desk with his arms crossed.

"I'm saying that Merikh has been acting and speaking suspiciously. I'm saying that I sense you haven't been entirely honest recently. I'm worried about my governess and I'm worried about her as a sister.

Elara kept her face completely steeled, her lips pursed and her eyes burning holes into his. She didn't move an inch, didn't betray anything in her emotions. Rhysand stares back and neither one of them are surrendering.

"If you have concerns about Merikh, then they need to be addressed. I can assure you, High Lord, that there are no issues with my honesty or my ability to protect the city."

Rhys still continued to look at her, not saying anything. Elara took that as her cue and walked out of his office.

She headed home, desperately wishing that Merikh was passed out on the couch or simply not home.

Elara entered the house and her senses went up immediately. Her intensified senses picked up the smell of whiskey. Her wings instinctively tucked in closer to herself when she saw Merikh sitting on the couch; he drains his glass and stands up to look at her.

Enough time had passed since the last incident with him that Elara was almost able to forget what he was capable of, but seeing the look in his eyes was a stark reminder.

"I thought I told you not to go to Windhaven, that's no place for you. You're making me look like a fool by going out there."

"How do you know I'm going out there?" It was a stupid thing to come out of her mouth, an instinctual reaction, but her mission was supposed to have been confidential and subsequently all the meetings had been strictly closed door. He had been in the room when she suggested going a few weeks ago, but no one had brought it up since. The orders for the mission had come down from Rhys last week and the meeting with Sylas had been in the afternoon.

Merikh completely ignored your question, but was slowly walking closer to her. He got up in her face and Elara tensed, waiting for the ball to drop. His breath hot on her face, he asks "what do you think all the other Illyrian males will say when they see you out there by yourself? You're too attractive of a female to be roaming around the camps?"

Forget the she was Illyrian and had spent her entire childhood in that camp - was he flirting with her? Was he acting like a jealous male? The kind that's actually protective over their partner?

Elara had no idea what to say to him. She couldn't tell if this was supposed to be an intimate moment for them or if she could set him off at any second, so she simply turned her head up and kissed him. Thankfully, he reciprocated.

Things progressed quickly from there, Elara's anger at Rhys long forgotten, her embarrassment in the training rings drowned out. His hands and mouth were all over her, their clothes flying off of them in a fury.

But still, Elara couldn't stop thinking about how Merikh knew of the mission. Why he was so adamant that she didn't go. It all felt off. But the male standing in front of her had been chosen for her, was her perfect match - he surely had his faults, but there was no way he'd be able to plot anything against her.

With no express warning or preparation, Merikh bent her over to slip inside her. Elara twisted around and put her hands on his forearms, trying to signal she wasn't quite in the mood for that yet, but Merikh was too drunk or indifferent to care.

Turning her back around, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Taron won't be able to keep his eyes off of you, don't forget to let him know who you belong to."

This time Elara twisted around to look at him with force. Stood her ground against his rough hands. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"At your trip to Windhaven, don't forget who you belong to."

"No, who is Taron? How do you know him?"

"You wicked bitch, why does it matter?"

She lunges at him and he's fighting back. There has never been a time that she actively fought Merikh, she always became submissive and just waited for it to be over, but this time she realized that Rhys had been correct and the safety of her city and everything she worked for was at stake.

He's fighting back and she's resisting the urge to completely burn him up with a blast of starlight, but she can't muster up the power. Her powers have been dampened. She tries to winnow and she can't. She tries to speak to Rhys or Feyre mind to mind and she can't. She tries to fight back, but she's getting uncharacteristically tired. It starts to feel as though she's paralyzed.

Merikh has an evil look in his eye. He's pushes her to ground, starts kicking her and slashing at her wings, at her face, anything he could.

Elara remains conscious the entire time, but is completely frozen.

Finally, mercifully he places one final kick to her face and leaves. As soon as he's out the door, Elara feels a fizzle in her fingertips. Her magic returning.

She can barely move, barely think and can barely breathe.

With her last ounce of energy and consciousness she screams into Rhysand's mind.

#acotar #azriel #cassian #innercircle #rhysand #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #acotar x reader #x reader angst #Azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst