#✦ ╱ behavior. — ❛ business in the front，knife in the back.

[onlyforwoosan]

Wicked, Wild, and Yours— ℧

Pairing: Choi San (Outlaw Hunter!AU) × Female Outlaw Reader (Enemies to Obsession)

Wordcount: 4.8k

Synopsis: You’re a wanted outlaw. He’s the bounty hunter sent to catch you — but San doesn’t want the reward. He wants you. One chase, one fight, and one night where he makes sure you never run again.

Genre: Smut, Dark Western Romance, Enemies to Lust to Something Else, Outlaw Hunter!AU

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Rough sex, Dominant behavior, Gun violence, Knife use, Blood, Hair pulling, Dirty talk (degrading & possessive), Overstimulation, Handcuffs, Emotionally charged tension, Light gore (during fight scenes), Power play (consensual)

The night was quiet—too quiet for your liking.

The bar was mostly dead, except for the usual drunks and card players who were too broke to leave. Oil lamps flickered across creaky floorboards, casting a soft golden light over the worn mahogany bar. You wiped down the same glass for the fifth time, listening to the low hum of murmured conversation and the occasional thump of boots on wood.

Then you heard him.

The sharp clack of spurs hitting the porch. The heavy sound of a man who walked like he owned the dirt beneath his feet. You turned your head just in time to see him tie up his horse, one hand adjusting the brim of his dark hat, the other resting near the holster on his hip like it belonged there.

And then he walked in.

Choi San.

You froze.

Your breath caught, fingers locking around the glass as he strolled through the doorway. The man was sin carved in leather and bone, his coat swaying behind him like the wings of death itself. He waved to a few folks who recognized him—either too stupid or too scared to avoid his gaze. A hunter. The kind of man people whispered about in other outlaw camps. The kind who didn't take prisoners.

You'd seen posters of him before. "Bounty hunter. Ruthless. Gets the job done."  You thought he looked dangerous in the sketches.

But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Your heart pounded harder than it should’ve. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or... something worse.

He didn’t glance at anyone else. Just walked right up to the bar and sat down directly in front of you. When he finally looked up, straight into your eyes—it was like he was already aiming.

"Evenin'," he said smoothly.

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Evenin’.”  He tipped his head slightly, giving you a once-over that was anything but subtle. “You new in town?”

You kept your tone neutral, your face still. “Been around.”

“Hm.” His eyes flickered with interest. “You don’t sound local.”

You shrugged. “A lotta folks ain’t.” 

He smiled then—slow, deliberate, and just shy of cocky. “Fair enough. Whiskey. Neat.”

You turned your back to pour the drink, your hands moving automatically. But your mind was racing. What the fuck is he doing here?

Choi San didn’t just wander into towns like this. He hunted—tracked people down, flushed them out. The kind of man who didn’t ask questions unless he already knew the answers.

And you... were most definitely on someone's list.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it felt like your lungs were trying to crawl up your throat. He couldn’t possibly know who you were, right? You’d changed your hair. Wore different clothes. You were careful, goddammit.

But not careful enough.

You’d been caught once. Only once. That was all it took to get your face on a poster. And San? He didn’t miss.

You brought the drink over and set it down in front of him. “Here.” He took a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“Y’know,” he said slowly, “I’ve seen a lotta faces. Yours… looks mighty familiar.”

Your throat dried up. “Do it?” you managed. He nodded, eyes sharp now. “Mm. Got one of those looks. Dangerous. Pretty.”

You flushed—goddammit, get a grip—and quickly glanced away, pretending to busy yourself with the bar rag.

“Where’d you say you were from again?” he added, voice light but laced with meaning.

“I didn’t.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Feisty.”

You forced a polite smile, muttered something about checking stock, and excused yourself to the back.

The saloon’s back room was hazy with smoke and dust. You slipped in, shutting the door behind you, your chest rising and falling fast. “Haechan!” you hissed.

Your partner in crime—both literally and figuratively—was leaned against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips and a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing you. “What crawled up your—”

“San’s here.”

That made him freeze… He took the cigarette out of his mouth slowly. “The bounty hunter?”

You nodded. “He’s at the bar. He looked right at me. I think he knows.”

Haechan cursed under his breath. “You said he was on the other side of the territory. How the hell did he find us this fast?”

“I don’t know! Maybe someone ratted, maybe I slipped up.” You grabbed your head. “God, Haechan—he’s gonna kill me. You’ve heard what he does.”

He studied you for a second, serious now. “Then don’t give him the chance. Get out. Go out the back, take the alley, and run.”

You hesitated. “We said no splitting up.”

“We also said don’t get caught,” he shot back. “You’re the one they have posters of. You got made. I didn’t. I’ll cover for you if I can, but you’ve gotta move.”

You peeked through the crack in the door. San was still at the bar. Still watching. Like he knew. He lifted his glass and took a slow sip—then winked at you.

Your stomach dropped. Haechan stepped closer. “Go. Now.” You turned, breath shaky, every instinct screaming to bolt. But something held you there. Fear? Curiosity? Or the heat that still lingered in your skin from the way his eyes had trailed over you?

No. You had to focus. You straightened your spine, took one last look at Haechan, and pushed back through the door.

Back at the bar, San looked completely at ease, fingers tapping against the rim of his glass. You swallowed hard and approached. “Sorry about that. Had to check something.”

“All good,” he replied smoothly. “We were just getting to the fun part anyway.”

You arched a brow. “Fun part?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “The part where you tell me your name. The real one.”

Your blood turned cold.

You stared at him, trying to find something casual to say, some smart remark, but your mouth wouldn’t move.. He smirked and reached into his coat. That was all it took… You bolted.

You didn’t wait to see what he was reaching for—gun, badge, poster—you weren’t about to find out. You shoved through the back door, hit the alley running, heart pounding, boots skidding across the dirt. You vaulted over a crate, ducked under a fence, and disappeared into the night.

Behind you, you heard the door slam open and a voice shout, “Shit—!”

You didn’t look back.

By the time San got to the alley, the only thing left was the echo of your boots and the swirling dust in the wind.

He stood there for a moment, glaring into the dark.

Then he smiled.

“She’s fast,” he muttered, already mounting his horse. “But not fast enough.”

Three days had passed since you vanished into the night, slipping through San’s fingers like smoke.

Three fucking days.

He wasn’t used to people getting away—especially not pretty little things who blushed under his stare and ran before he could even finish his sentence.

Now, the hunter was the one being haunted.

San rode through the outskirts of the dusty town under the silver sheen of moonlight. His horse’s hooves beat a steady rhythm against the dirt trail, a low wind stirring the brush. He had one hand on the reins, the other holding a small, battered communicator—cheap tech smuggled in from an old mining town. Outlaws didn’t trust satellites, but he and Woo had their ways.

“You still on her trail?” Wooyoung’s voice crackled through the speaker.

San sighed. “Yeah. She’s hiding good.”

“No shit. You let her run, remember?” San scowled at his best friend's comment. “She was fast.”

“She was hot,” Woo corrected, laughing.

San didn’t say anything. “Oh my god,” Wooyoung continued, smug as hell. “You do think she’s hot.”

“I said she was fast.”

“You said she was cute first. Then fast.”

There was a pause. San sighed again. “She was cute,” he admitted under his breath, just loud enough for Wooyoung to hear.

“Bro.” Wooyoung practically screamed. “Are you catching feelings for a felon?”

“She’s not just a felon,” San said. “She’s... wanted. Like—seriously wanted.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

San rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “I’m just saying... she’s interesting. I usually don’t remember faces. I can’t stop remembering hers.”

Woo whistled. “You gonna kill her?”

“...I don’t know yet.”

San hung up before Woo could answer. And then he heard it.

Voices—angry. Shouts. The sharp echo of a gunshot.

He clicked his tongue and pulled the reins, guiding his horse toward the source. A moment later, he spotted movement ahead.

A fight. No—a brawl.

Three figures. You, some guy beside you—firing back-to-back—and a third, dressed in outlaw hunter gear. The third was large, bleeding from the shoulder, but still charging.

You.

San’s stomach flipped. His hand went to the revolver at his side.

You had a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. Your lip was bleeding, dirt on your skin, your shirt torn at the shoulder. You looked fucking feral—cornered, animal-like, panting as you turned and stabbed the hunter in the side. He grunted and backhanded you hard enough to knock you against the rocks.

San didn’t think.

He jumped off the horse mid-gallop, landing hard and rolling once before rising with his gun already drawn.

Haechan noticed him first.

San caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes before the kid bolted, disappearing behind a cluster of crumbling mining shacks.

You—bloodied, dazed—shoved yourself up from the ground and screamed after him, “You fucking coward!”

And then you turned—and froze.

San stood there, silhouetted in moonlight, revolver drawn and pointed—not at you, but at the hunter who had just recovered and was turning back around.

The man squinted at San. “This ain’t your business, bounty—”

Bang.

San shot him in the thigh. Then again, in the shoulder. The man dropped, screaming.

You stood in stunned silence, barely able to breathe. Your ears were ringing, your head pounding. Blood dripped from your chin. You watched San approach you slowly, holstering his gun like nothing had happened.

You stumbled backward. “What the hell—”

He grabbed you by the wrist before you could bolt.

“Nope. Learned that trick last time.”

With a swift motion, he yanked a pair of worn steel cuffs from his belt and clink—latched one around your wrist. The other he clipped to a leather strap on his horse’s saddle nearby.

“What the fuck, San?!” you spat, struggling.

“You ran once. Not again.” His voice was low, sharp, like a blade gliding against skin.

You tried to pull away, but the chain only rattled. “You just killed him!”

“He was gonna kill you.”

“I had it under control—!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. pissed.

“Your face says otherwise,” San growled, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

His thumb brushed your split lip, slow, deliberate.

You winced—but didn’t pull away.

The tension between you thickened instantly, charged and volatile. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was firm. Commanding. The way he looked at you wasn’t like a hunter and prey—it was something darker. Needier.

“You alright?” he asked, quieter now. He was a little guilty from snarling at you.

You stared at him, stunned. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” His eyes flicked down to your mouth. “Just don’t want damaged goods.”

“Wow. Charming.”

He smirked and released your chin. He turned toward the hunter, who was now crawling away, blood trailing behind him. San didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his second pistol and walked right up behind the man.

“Please—” the hunter gasped.

Bang.

You flinched. The sound echoed through the hills, and then silence.

San returned to you calmly, like he’d just taken out the trash. You sat in stunned silence, chained to his fucking horse, blood on your lip, your stomach twisted.

He kneeled in front of you again, this time slower, his movements careful.

“Next time,” he murmured, “don’t get caught in the dark.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were outnumbered.”

“I had Haechan—”

“Your boyfriend, who ran?” San snorted. “Yeah. Real dependable.” 

You look disgusted. Haechan was most definitely not your boyfriend. He would never be. “Ew! He's my best friend!” You snapped back at him. He looked a little surprised but was kind of happy. Maybe he had a chance..

“My bad, Y/N…”

You glared at him, cheeks flushed with rage. How dare he even use your name? “You think you’re so much better than everyone else because you’ve got guns and a goddamn horse?”

He leaned in close. “No. I think I’m better because I don’t leave people behind.”

You stopped talking. The words hit something raw in you. Something unspoken. Maybe something you’d tried not to feel for years.

San rose, tugging gently on the chain that led to your wrist. “Let’s go.”

You scowled. “What, now?”

“Unless you’d rather sleep next to a corpse.”

You rolled your eyes but stood, dragging your feet. He helped you onto his horse roughly, but not painfully. One hand on your hip, another guiding your thigh up. You yelped when the saddle caught your bruised leg, and he smirked.

“Sensitive, huh?”

“Go to hell.”

“You first, sweetheart.”

He climbed up behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand firmly holding the reins, the other lightly resting on your waist.

“You don’t need to hold me like that,” you muttered.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Just don’t want you falling.”

And with that, he clicked the horse into motion.

The ride was brutal at first—every gallop jostled your aching body. You bit your lip to avoid making a sound, even as you bounced against him, your back slamming into his chest.

When he sped up suddenly, you let out a sharp gasp.

“Easy,” he chuckled. “Didn’t take you for the jumpy type.”

“I’m bleeding, you dick.”

“You’re alive,” he replied smoothly.

The wind picked up, cold and sharp, stinging the open cut on your lip. You winced, and he must’ve felt it.

“You sure you okay?” he asked.

“Why are you being nice?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. Just a bounty to you, huh?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, softer than before: “Not just.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glimpse him over your shoulder. His face was unreadable in the moonlight, but there was something in his eyes—something unsettling. Like, even he wasn’t sure what he meant.

You faced forward again, heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears The rest of the ride was silent. But you could feel him—every breath, every muscle shift, every time his gloved fingers brushed your waist or gripped the reins just a little tighter when you leaned back too far.

And worst of all?

You didn’t hate it.

The ride to San’s hideout was long, but the tension made it feel shorter.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t talk. And San didn’t offer explanations.

The horse slowed just before dawn, stopping at a secluded ranch tucked behind a dead patch of forest. Weather-worn fencing framed the property, and the barn looked half-collapsed. But the house—it was quiet, sturdy, and unsettlingly normal. Too normal for a man who just shot someone in the skull two hours ago.

San dismounted first, then helped you down—not with kindness, but with control.

His fingers didn’t linger, but his eyes did.

He pulled the chain on your cuff taut and led you up the porch. The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dim interior filled with dust, warm light, and weapons. Guns lined the walls in neat rows. A single table sat under a bare bulb, with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

No Wooyoung.

You noticed.

San locked the door behind you. “He’s gone,” he muttered. “Bar hopping. Or fucking someone. Or both.”

You didn’t say anything, but you did blush a little.. Fuck– you blushed a lot.

You just kept scanning the space, taking note of the exits. Of the heavy boots by the door. Of the butcher knife, half-cleaned in the sink.

San watched your eyes track everything. “Smart girl,” he said. “But don’t bother. You run, I’ll just find you again.”

You glared. “You cuffed me to a horse.”

He smirked. “You looked cute like that.”

You scowled, but before you could respond, he grabbed your arm and dragged you further inside, pushing you down into a wooden chair near the table. He crouched in front of you, eyes locked on yours, fingers gripping your chin again.

“Let’s try this again.”

You didn’t resist—but you didn’t look at him, either.

“I wanna know who you were working with. Names. Routes. Safehouses.”

You scoffed. “Like I’d give you shit.”

He tilted his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

He grinned slowly. “You’re not leaving here unless I say so.”

You bristled. But something in your stomach flipped again—something sharp and dangerous and unwanted. He’s insane, you thought. But then he said—

“You thirsty?”

You blinked.

“What?”

San stood and reached for a nearby jug of water. He poured some into a clean glass and set it down in front of you.

You stared at it, confused.

“What the fuck? You were just being an ass.”

He chuckled. “I was always being an ass. Doesn’t mean I won’t give you water.”

You didn’t trust it, but you were parched. You grabbed it and drank. The metal of your cuffs clicked as you shifted. San sat down across from you, one ankle propped over his knee. He watched you sip, then spoke casually.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. I should kill you. Would make my job easier.”

You tensed.

“But…” He leaned forward, eyes dragging over your body. “There’s another option.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What. A deal?” 

He smiled darkly. “No. A punishment.”

Your heart jumped. “The fuck is that supposed to mean—”

His voice dropped low, sultry and razor-sharp. “Punishment like fucking that sweet pussy of yours until you forget your name.”

Heat exploded in your face. “You’re insane.”

“You’re wet.”

“Fuck you—”

“Exactly.”

He stood and crossed the room. You didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Your body was frozen—but not from fear. From want.

He returned with a small key and crouched beside you again. “I’ll unlock the cuffs. But if you run, I’ll catch you. And next time, I won’t be gentle.”

He unlocked the chain.

You didn’t run.

You didn’t want to.

He stood again and offered his hand. “Your choice,” he said, voice low and rough. “Out that door… or to my bed.”

You stared at him, then glanced at the door. You didn’t move. “Thought so.”

He took your wrist, pulled you up, and led you down a hallway. His room was worse than you expected. Dark wood walls. An unmade bed. Guns everywhere. Antlers mounted above the headboard. Shelves lined with bullets, whiskey bottles, and half-ripped wanted posters.

You paused—because three of those posters were yours. One was pinned near the bed. And it was stained.You didn’t ask what the white smear was.

San noticed you looking.

He smirked, leaned in behind you, and whispered, “Got real familiar with you before I met you.”

You swallowed hard.

His hand slid around your waist. The other gripped your shoulder.

He bent you over the edge of the bed, body flush to yours, breath hot on your ear.

“No more talking.”

Then the rip.

He grabbed the back of your shirt and tore it straight down the spine, fabric splitting like paper. Your bra snapped loose seconds later. You gasped, but his palm was already on your back, keeping you bent.

He dropped to his knees behind you, fingers roughly yanking your pants down to your thighs. He didn’t prep. Didn’t pause. You felt him move behind you, heard the telltale crack of a condom being torn open.

Then—

One hard thrust.

You screamed—half in shock, half in need.

“Shhh.. i’ve got you..” he growled, voice hot at your shoulder. “You can take it.”

“F- fuck!” You moaned as he slammed into you again, then again, his hips snapping rough against yours, one hand buried in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he owned you. You couldnt lie, you loved it. Him treating you like this.

“Fuckin’ tight little outlaw cunt,” he grunted. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

You moaned through gritted teeth, body on fire, legs trembling. “S–sannie..”

“You like being bent over like a prize?” he snarled. “Like a bounty?”

You didn’t answer—so he spanked you. Hard. You cried out, biting the sheets.

“Answer me, baby..”

“Yes,” you hissed. “Yes—fuck—yes.”

He fucked you harder.

No mercy. No pause.

He filled you like he was trying to ruin you from the inside out, rough and fast and filthy. He whispered the nastiest shit in your ear—how good your pussy felt, how pretty you sounded begging, how much he was going to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

Your voice cracked as you tried to breathe his name, hips trembling under the weight of his body.

“S–Sannie…”

It came out broken, high and desperate. You weren’t even sure if you were begging him to stop or begging for more. The sound of it made him still for just a second — just long enough for him to lower his chest against your back, wrapping one strong arm around your waist to hold you close.

His breath was warm at your ear, the edge in his voice softening.

“There she is…” he murmured, lips grazing your temple. “My sweet girl.”

You whimpered again, tears clinging to your lashes. “I–I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re takin’ me so well. So perfect… you were made for this. Made for me.”

His thrusts slowed — deep and steady now — more like he was savoring you, not just claiming you. His fingers tangled with yours over the sheets, his other hand rubbing soothing circles over your ribs as you tried to catch your breath.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “All messed up for me. Cryin’ for me.”

You nodded shakily, voice trembling, “S–Sannie… it’s too much.. G–gonna cum.”

He kissed your shoulder, moving gently now — hips rolling slow and thick inside you, coaxing every gasp and moan from your throat.

“I know, baby,” he said. “But I’ve got you. You don’t gotta run anymore. You’re safe now… right here with me.”

And with the way his arms wrapped around you, the way his voice dipped into something raw and real, you almost believed him.

Your legs almost gave out—but he held you up, cock driving into you over and over until you were trembling, moaning his name in broken gasps.

When your body clenched and you came hard around him, he cursed, pulled out, and flipped you over.

“On my lap.”

You barely had time to breathe before he pulled you into his lap, straddling him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

He was already hard again. Already rolling another condom on.

You whimpered.

He grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him.

You gasped—eyes wide, back arching.

He leaned forward, grabbed his cowboy hat, and placed it on your head.

“There,” he smirked. “Now you look real pretty.”

You couldn’t speak.

You just rode him—driven by some fever you couldn’t explain, some need that had been burning for days. He held your waist and fucked up into you, your bodies slamming together, the hat slipping down your forehead.

He groaned every time you clenched, every time you whispered his name, every time you lost rhythm and whimpered into his neck.

“Naughty fuckin’ little outlaw,” he breathed. “Could’ve been mine this whole time.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered.

“And you’re soaked.”

You shuddered.

He let you ride him until your thighs burned and your legs collapsed. Your forehead stayed pressed to his as your hips moved faster, his hands gripping you tighter like he was trying to anchor both of you. San's breath was ragged, warm puffs against your mouth as he looked at you — not just your body, but you.

“I’m close,” you whispered, voice barely holding together, “Sannie, I—”

His hands slid up your back, one curling into your hair, tugging gently to tilt your face to his. “I know, baby. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Your fingers dug into his chest as you ground down on him harder, chasing that high that sat right on the edge of every nerve in your body. His mouth brushed yours — not quite a kiss, just breath and warmth and the tremble of restraint in him.

“That’s it,” he whispered again, voice thick. “Ride it out for me. Take everything I give you.”

You cried out his name — sharp and breathless — as your body finally broke, pleasure rolling through you like a wave that knocked the air from your lungs. You clung to him, gasping, the world spinning around you as your muscles tensed and fluttered with each pulse of release.

San groaned deep in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he bucked up into you once, twice, chasing his own edge. “You’re perfect,” he choked out. “So fucking perfect.”

Then he pulled you fully against his chest, burying his face in your neck as he followed you over the edge — body shuddering, breath caught between a curse and your name.

Then he laid you down.

The bed creaked as he hovered over you, finally slow, finally controlled.

He kissed your neck once—just once.

Then he slid into you again, slow and deep.

You gasped, already sensitive.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let me feel you.”

This time, he didn’t pound you.

He rolled his hips with care, like he was learning your body. His hand found yours and pinned it over your head, his other hand gripping your jaw as he looked into your eyes.

“You were always gonna be mine,” he murmured.

Your lips parted.

You believed him.

And when you came again—shaking and breathless—he followed you, burying his face in your neck as his body tensed and trembled against yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetie..” He murmured in your ear.. You held onto his biceps.. Your eyes starting to close…

The bed was cold.

San’s hand dragged across the sheets as his eyes blinked open, muscles sore and head fuzzy from a sleep that felt far too short. The room was quiet—too quiet. No footsteps. No smartass remarks. No soft, sleepy breaths beside him.

He sat up quickly, heart already racing.

You were gone.

The cuffs were off. The door hadn’t slammed. You’d slipped out quietly, like smoke through a crack in the wall.

He cursed under his breath and scanned the room. That’s when he saw it:

A folded note, sitting crooked on the nightstand, weighted down by one of your spent bullets—small, but unmistakably yours.

He stared at it for a moment, jaw tight.

Then picked it up.

The paper smelled faintly like you—leather, dirt, and something sweeter underneath. He unfolded it carefully, like if he opened it too fast you might vanish for good.

Your handwriting spilled across the page, messy but confident.

“Morning, cowboy. Didn’t mean to disappear without a kiss. You were snoring too loud.”

“Don’t get your ego all twisted. Last night wasn’t a surrender—it was a draw. A damn good one, though.”

“I liked the way you touched me like you owned me. Even if I don’t belong to anyone… not really.”

“You’re dangerous. All coiled muscle and rough hands and a mouth that makes it impossible to think straight. Guess that’s why I didn’t shoot you when I had the chance.”

“But I’m not good at staying. Never was. Never tried to be. There’s always a bounty, always someone chasing me, always another dusty town to disappear into.”

“Still… you felt different. Even if I won’t say it out loud.”

“And maybe I’m stupid for leaving. Maybe I’m scared. Maybe both.”

“But if you find me again—really find me—”

“I’ll stay.”

“Because for all my running, I think I’ve been yours since the second you walked into that bar.”

—Yours. Always.”  

“p.s .. I love you.”

San didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The note trembled slightly in his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, marked up with scratches and bites you’d left behind. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes locked on the paper like it might say more if he just stared long enough.

She’s gone, he thought.

But she’s not lost.

He folded the note gently and tucked it inside his coat—right next to his heart. Then he grabbed his belt, holstered his revolver, and headed for the door.

There was only one thought in his mind now.

He wasn’t mad. Not even close.

Because now?

He had a reason to hunt you again...

[queen-of-the-avengers]

An Enigma

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: angst, blood, threat of violence, unwanted touching, harassment

Summary: You and Bucky are in an arranged marriage set up by both your parents. It’s a way to keep the peace between your two families. You thought Bucky didn’t care for you, but when someone from your past comes back into your life, Bucky makes it known that all he ever thinks about is you.

Square Filled: au: no powers (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You step into the kitchen but keep to the wall in intimidation. Your husband is standing there with his back to you. He’s shirtless with only a pair of slacks on. You’re not sure what is more hot. Him being shirtless or dressed in a three-piece suit. He has his phone to his ear so you don’t dare interrupt him, scared of what he might do or say to you. It’s not that you’re scared he’ll beat you, it’s just that he’s always so stoic and rarely shows his emotions.

There’s something you want to ask him but you’re scared of what he’ll do when you ask it. He’s your husband for god sake. Just go up to him and ask him! Your inner personality isn’t as scared of him as you are. You wouldn’t be this way if you had married him out of love. No, this marriage was arranged by yours and his parents. You were forced to be his wife, so you’re not even sure he loves you much less likes you.

Still, your marriage meant a truce between your family and his, but that doesn’t mean he stopped hating your family.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and say something?”

You snap out of your own thoughts and look at Bucky who is now facing you. His shirtless back is almost as delicious as his shirtless front, but you’re too nervous to appreciate the sight in front of you.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

Bucky looks you up and down, studying your behavior and body language. You’re jumpy, your hands are sweaty and shaky, and you can barely meet his eyes for more than five seconds.

“Why do you look so scared?” He smirks. “I won’t bite.”

“My dad called.” His smirk is lost. “He’s having a family dinner next week. He wants both of us there.”

“I see.”

“I’d be really happy if you came. He won’t try anything, I promise. They’ll be on their best behavior.”

“Okay,” Bucky says after a moment.

“Wait, really?”

“You’re my wife. If my father-in-law is asking for dinner, then so be it.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you. It’s next Friday.” You take out your phone. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

You turn to leave but Bucky’s voice stops you. “One move.”

“What?”

“If he tries one move, my knife will be lodged in his throat.”

Your eyes widen but you hear the threat loud and clear. You nod and scurry off before he can make any more conditions. Your father is part of one of the biggest crime families New York has ever seen. He has power in every single corner of his jurisdiction. No one can do anything without him knowing about it. Bucky’s family is the other family that has ties to mafia dealings, making them just as powerful as your family.

Both families split New York in half, but they’re constantly fighting over drugs, property, clubs, money, etc. If it can be used to manipulate and exert power over people, both your families are greedy for the taking, especially if those businesses live on the border of both jurisdictions.

One day, your father met with Bucky’s father about a truce, something they both will want to agree to. This was when your mother was pregnant with you, but he loves to tell the story so you feel like you were practically there. If you were to marry Bucky, then both families would be able to come to agreement on those petty fights.

A truce would be made. The cost? Your freedom. Any children that you may will bear will be part of the biggest crime family this country has ever seen.

When you were old enough, you met Bucky through a family dinner. He came off as stoic, cold, and calculating. He didn’t let anything get under his skin. Then, his nieces and nephews joined the party and he became a different person. His hard resolve started melting, giving you a show of who the real Bucky was. It’s different when he’s in front of business partners and your family, but you have a good idea of who the real Bucky is.

He’s a mystery, something you’re desperate to solve.

To prepare for the dinner, you decide to go to the gym and hopefully shed a few pounds. You’ve always loved doing cardio, so the treadmill became your best friend. You go so often that the front desk lady knows you by name.

“Welcome, Y/N. Have a good workout.”

“Thank you, Betty. I will.”

You walk over to the treadmill and start with a walk to get your blood pumping. You put your headphones in and listen to your favorite podcast. You listen to all sorts of things when you work out but lately, it’s been about the podcasts. You’re an hour into your workout when someone touches your shoulder. You take out your headphones and look back to see someone you never thought you’d see again.

“Vince. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a gym. I’m working out.”

You look him over and notice he’s not sweaty or red. If he’s been here as long as you have, he hasn’t been working out.

“Right. I’ll let you get back to it.”

You’re about to put your headphones back in when he steps onto the treadmill next to yours. He leans over and rests his elbows on your handlebars, and you immediately stop your machine. It’s a good time to call it a day.

“I came over here to say hi.”

“I should get going.”

You step off the treadmill and walk over to the cleaning station to grab some paper towels when you feel him standing behind you. You used to feel so safe with him but that all changed when your father discovered a hole in your wall that came from his room which was right next door. He was your bodyguard, supposed to protect you from creeps, and ended up being one. He was truly a pervert.

The only reason why your father didn’t kill him was because you didn’t want to deal with it. You convinced him to just fire him, so he did. Now he’s back but you’re not sure why. Your father made it very clear that if he tried to come near you again, he would do more than fire him. You turn and find him standing closer than he should be.

“What do you want, Vince?”

“Just to talk. I’ve become better. I’ve worked on myself. I’m ready to go back to work.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to be your bodyguard again.”

“Like hell, that’s going to happen. You shouldn’t even be here. This isn’t even your gym. Just go home.” You step around him to clean your machine but he grabs your upper hard harder than normal. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea what pain is. I’ll do more than hurt you if you don’t give me my job back. I’m a good bodyguard. I kept all the creeps away from you.”

“Yeah, except for you. Let me go.”

He does but he doesn’t move away from you. You have sensitive skin so you know you’ll have bruises on your arm from his grip.

“Don’t be so shocked if one day you find me inside your house. I know you don’t have a bodyguard now.”

You don’t need one. You have Bucky. He’s very possessive and protective over you. You’re not sure what he’s going to do when he finds out about this, but you can imagine it’s not going to be kind. Crew cleaning your machine. You drop your supplies and rush out of the gym in a panic. During the ride home, you think of ways to lie to Bucky. He’s going to take one look at your face and know something is wrong.

You’re a terrible liar, but you can’t think of anything because you’re too scared. Scared to the point of tears. Maybe if you sneak inside and run to your room, you’ll be able to calm yourself down enough to come up with a convincing lie.

You park in the garage and rush inside knowing Bucky has cameras and sensors for when someone enters the garage. You’re about to book it up the stairs when you run smack into Bucky’s chest.

“Where’s the fire?” He sees the panicked look in your eyes and immediately becomes on alert. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Just an intense workout. I’m going to take a shower.”

You go to leave but Bucky grabs your arm in the same place as Vince did. You wince and he lets you go immediately thinking he hurt you. His eyes narrow on the bruises Vince let, and the fire in his eyes tells you he’s not going to believe anything but the truth.

“What. Happened.”

You have no choice but to tell him the truth before you get in trouble for lying.

“Before you, I had a bodyguard. He was caught spying on me through a hole he created in my bedroom. He was fired and my father made it clear never to bother me again. Well, he was at the gym. He… threatened me… saying I shouldn’t be surprised if I find him in this house because I don’t have a bodyguard now. He… wants his job back.”

“Okay.”

Bucky moves around you to go to the garage but you jump in front of him and put your hands on his chest. He looks calm but you know he is fucking pissed. It’s taking all of your strength to keep him from entering the garage.

“Bucky, stop.”

“If you think I won’t pick you up and move you out of the way, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Bucky, please. I will bring this up to my father tomorrow at dinner. Please let my family handle this. He worked for my dad. He should deal with it.”

Bucky looks down and he sees the desperation in your eyes. It doesn't do shit to calm him down but he backs away knowing this is what you want.

“Fine.”

Bucky retreats to his office for the rest of the day. Before you know it, Friday has come and you’re walking up the steps to your father’s mansion. You’ve been dreading this moment since the gym but you know you have to tell your father about this. Bucky was supposed to ride with you but you hadn’t seen him all day.

“Oh, sweetheart! I’m glad you’re here!” your mother says when you walk into the house.

“Hi, mom.” She pulls you in for a crushing hug. “You just saw me last week.”

“I know, but it feels like a lifetime. Where is Bucky?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll be here. He said he would.” Your father walks in and you smile when you see him. “Daddy!”

“Princess,” he smiles.

You bounce over to him and hug him tightly. He’s a very tall and muscular man but he has always been gentle with you. You’re his princess. You’re his only daughter, so he takes your health and well-being very seriously. You have six brothers but he’s not the same with them as he’s with you. They’re just as scary as your father. You’re not sure why you ever needed a bodyguard when you had six living at home with you.

You join your family in the dining room and greet your brothers. The family butler brings out the food until there is a plate in front of everyone. You look beside you at the empty chair and wonder where Bucky is. He’s supposed to be here. He said he would. If he had to work, he would have told you.

“So, Y/N, when am I getting grandbabies?”

“Mom!”

“I’m not getting any younger over here.”

“You have grandbabies. Tony and Luke both have children. Gio has one on the way.”

“None from you, though.”

“Okay, well, when I get pregnant, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Where is Bucky?” Stefan asks, shoveling food into his mouth as he speaks.

“Stefan!” your mother scolds. “Don’t eat like an animal.”

“Sorry, mom,” he says with his mouth full.

“I don’t know. He said he’d be here. He’s probably caught up with work.”

Once your brothers are finished with their meals, they eagerly go for seconds. The dining room is filled with chatter about people’s plans, kids, and trips they have coming up. You never talk about work while you’re eating. That’s reserved for after dinner and always over a glass of top-shelf whiskey.

Suddenly, all chatter ceases when someone walks into the dining room. Bucky. Only he’s covered in blood. Blood stains his nice suit and spatters his smooth skin, but he acts as if he has nothing on him. His hands are clean though. He sits next to you and accepts the food the butler brings. He takes a bite of the meat and moans at how good it is.

“Is it taken care of?” your father asks.

“Yes, sir.”

Chatter returns as normal as if Bucky isn’t covered in fucking blood. Even your brothers don’t seem to care that blood is now on the table. Your mother doesn’t care that blood is getting on her nice white dining chair. You lean closer to him and grab your napkin. You grab his chin and start wiping the blood from his cheek.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Where were you? Why are you covered in blood? Whose is it?”

“Vince.”

Now everything makes sense. He must have called your father to tell him what you told him who then told your mother who then told your brothers.

“I told you I’d handle it.”

“He touched what’s mine.”

“Excuse me?”

“He touched my wife.”

You throw the napkin down knowing it’s useless. “Last I checked, Bucky, you don’t own me.”

“No, you but own me.” Your eyes widen in surprise. “I’d do it again and again to protect you.” He grabs your chin with his clean hand and kisses you. He pulls away from you and wipes away the drop of blood he got on your skin. “Eat.”

It takes you several seconds to wrap your brain around what just fucking happened. You grab your fork and take a bite slowly. Maybe there is some warmth to that cold heart.

x

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[valentina-writes]

The Distance He Keeps - Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and you have been best friends for centuries. But all of a sudden he won't talk to you anymore.

words: 1.5k | masterlist | part 2 | part 3

This is a 3 part series. The other parts will be released in the next days. I hope you enjoy xx

A/N: I honestly don't know if any of y'all are still here, but I'm kinda back! This was not requested, it's kind of a try at starting to write again. I can't promise that I'm going to be really active again and for now I'm not taking requests. We'll see how it goes :)

I was late for dinner, I realized as I hurried through the front door and foyer of Rhys's townhouse and into the dining room. The inner circle, my friends, my family, were gathered around the long wooden table. All of them were already here, eating, laughing and talking. Their words didn't quite reach me. The only empty seat was my usual one, next to Azriel, who had his wings neatly folded behind his back and was engaged in conversation with Rhys. I squared up my shoulders and excused my late arrival: "Hi everyone. Sorry I'm late, work was terrible". The latter was directed mainly at Rhys. I'd have to have a talk with him later. The rest of my friends greeted me, smiling. Only Azriel didn't. In fact, he did not even look my way. My heart froze in my chest. He had been ignoring me for weeks. My breath hitched as I waited for any sort of reaction, but he resumed his conversation as if I weren't there. My eyes started burning at his disregard and I fought to regain compusure. For a split second I contemplated winnowing away on the spot. But this was our first dinner like this in weeks and I could make this uncomfortable for him too.

With long strides I walked over to Cassian, who was seated next to Nesta. I stopped next to him and he happily said "Hi Y/N". Well, this was going to be awkward. My only response was "Move". The conversations around me came to a halt as Cassian's expression turned to amused confusion. "I… what?". My heart hammered in my chest and heat rose to my cheeks. I did not dare look up to see if Azriel was finally acknowledging me. "I said move", I repeated. And then, quieter, so only he could hear it "Please". He stood up without conplaining and from the look I saw in Nesta's eyes, I gathered she must have said something through the bond to make him comply. I slid into Cass's seat and started to fill my plate as conversation around the table resumed as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. For 300 years I'd had my spot at this table. I had never sat elsewhere. Until today. I mumbled a thanks to Nesta and started eating, when I felt Rhys at the edges of my consciousness, stroking softly against my mental shields to be let in. In response, I slammed a second wall down and shook my head at him slightly. He didn't try again.

Dinner was tense. I tried talking to Nesta, but I was so busy not to look the way of the tall shadowsinger that several times she had to ask her questions twice before I realized she was still talking to me. Nobody addressed my entrance. Inside me, my blood was boiling, my heart a pile of glass shards. I had tried to excuse Azriel's behavior during the past weeks. Most of the time I convinced myself that he was simply too busy with work to spend as much time with me as he used to. But this was different, we were at home for Cauldron's sake. He was supposed to be different here, he was supposed to welcome me with a warm hug and hand me seconds at dessert. How could he all of a sudden not care anymore at all?

I was so lost in thought that I barely registered Rhys standing up and proclaiming: "Excuse us, Y/N and I have to talk about her work". For a second, I merely stared at him, then I dropped my fork and knife on the table and stood up. It was comically obvious that this was not about my work. When we had just crossed the threshold into the foyer, I heard somebody whispering: "Azriel, what the fuck is going on?". His only response: "I need to go".

Rhys brought me into his study and shut the door. I sunk down into one of the armchairs and waited for him to take a seat. Instead, Rhys leaned against his ornate desk and rubbed his forehead as if in pain. "Y/N", he started after a while, "please, what is going on between him and you?". Pain flared through me at his mention. "Nothing".

Rhys's lips twitched into a smile and then he was laughing. "You have been part of my inner circle for more than 300 years. Azriel, I know even longer. He is like my brother. Don't think I wouldn't notice that there is something terribly wrong". Tears burned in my eyes again. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep this from Rhys. Maybe it was a good thing, being able to confide in someone, I beckoned myself. Things were horrible already. This would merely be the last nail in my already finished coffin the Mother had built me.

"The day after starfall I came into work", I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. Rhys came closer and knealt down in front of me. "And he just… wouldn't talk to me". A sob escaped my lips. Rhys took my hand in his and his face turned into a frown.

"At first - I - he…. I thought he was just busy, but it didn't get any better. It only… only got worse". Tears were now streaming down my face. I could barely see Rhys out of my teary swollen eyes. "We haven't talked in weeks. Months even. At work, he doesn't let me go on any missions and instead makes me do paperwork. We don't train together anymore. We don't spend time anymore. Worst of all, he won't even look at me and I just don't understand what I did wrong". The last sentences were almost inaudible over my sobs. Rhys gently pulled me up by my hands and drew me into a tight hug. My hands clasped around his back and I cried and cried until his shirt was wet and my eyes dry.

"Do you want me to talk to him about this?", he asked softly. But I shook my head no against him. "This is bad enough as is. I don't want Azriel to withdraw even more. I thought we were best friends. But I'm so… alone", I croaked. Best friends. We had been inseperable for so long, I almost didn't remember a time before Azriel. His bedroom was next to mine. We worked together, trained together, ate together, spent our free time together. And now that he was gone, the better part of my life was missing. Tears threatened to well up again, but I surpressed them.

Rhys hummed softly. "What do you think could have caused this?".

I rummaged through my memories, trying to take ahold of the root of all evil. And was catapulted back in time to starfall.

Azriel looked radiant in his dark blue suit, the same color as his siphons. Slow music was playing and we were entwined, dancing to it, as the first souls began their journey across the night sky. My cheeks were flushed from being so close to him and was grateful for the darkness surrounding us. Instances like this one were rare. He almost never let anyone touch him, not like this, at least. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?", I asked him, "But isn't it sad how all souls have to make this journey alone?".

He stopped our movements and looked away from me at the sky, as if for the first time that day. "It is. But I don't know if they are truly alone. Wherever they go, I think they will meet again". Thousands of comets rained from the sky. I smiled at his thought and hugged him a little tighter. I hoped he was right. No matter what came after this life, whatever existence the Cauldron had in store for us, without Azriel it would be meaningless.

"Do you think we will see us again?" Our eyes met. The golden specks in his were glowing in the starlight and my breath hitched at the softness of his gaze. There were a million questions in this simple one. Words that had been stuck in my throat for hundreds of years, that always went unsaid, that I had been choking on for eternity.

"I will find you, no matter where. I promise". My heart skipped a beat.

"I love you, I always have", I wanted to say, but it only came out:"And I will find you". His wings cocooned me in, blocking out the noise and light. When he unfoldet them again slightly, we were standing on a deserted terrace under the stars. "Azriel, I…" His face came closer, our lips almost touching - but there was somebody watching.

"Get. The fuck. Out. Of. My. Head. RHYSAND", I nearly screamed as I wound myself out of his embrace. "We are very good friends and I know you know almost every thought in my head. But this. This is fucking private". Now, I was seething. How could he? My innermost thoughts, my most guarded memories. I wanted to curse the Mother for putting me through this misery.

"I don't know if you noticed, but all of your walls were down. You were practically inviting me in", he reasoned, eyes glinting.

"Again, you can see anything you want. But not this", I repeated. My hands balled into fists at my sides. Thick iron walls fell down around my brain, shutting him out.

"Interesting", he mused, chuckling to himself. "I think you should talk to him. I don't think you need to worry at all".

I was already striding out, planning on fetching Cassian to channel my anger into sparring. "I love you, Rhys, you're like a brother to me. Please keep that in mind when I say go fuck yourself".

A hearty laugh sounded from behind me and a whisper in my mind said: "Soon you will understand"

[joachimz]

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: silly and overtly fluffy. flustered neteyam. reupload.

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

[rbfclassy]

STILL IN LOVE! #5 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

It’s been an entire month since your argument with Toji. Neither of you had said a word to each other, not even when he comes to pick up or drop off the kids. He keeps his distance, not bothering to wait by the door with them, instead he waits on the sidewalk and waved goodbye to them when you open the door. It seems like the kids haven’t took notice of the hostility between you and your ex husband and you wanted to keep it that way. You didn’t want them to witness anymore than they already have. Occasionally, Naya asks if she can go over Toji’s more often, growing an attachment to her father, but you always have to explain to her that he’s busy working during the week. It breaks your heart knowing that your children aren’t growing up with a fully family. You know deep down, they question why they have to go back and forth between houses just to see their father, or wondering why their mommy and daddy aren’t together like the other kids. But knowing how young they are, they wouldn’t understand a single thing. Hopefully when they’re older, they’ll learn from the mistakes you and Toji have made.

You and Nanami have been going strong recently, finding that he makes you forget about the hardships in your life. He hasn’t met the kids yet, which you don’t plan on letting happen anytime soon. He’s a nice guy, great intentions, but you want to take things slow before overstepping your own boundaries. He has took you out on two more dates ever since the first one, and each time he impresses you more and more. It feels like you can be open with him, comfortable without getting judged. He’s also a great listener, not saying a word and just letting you vent all of your feelings out until you feel better. He puts a smile on your face when he knows you’re feeling down or thinking about something that stresses you out. And most of all, he doesn’t mention what happened that morning when Toji showed up at your house. You know he heard most of everything and it was embarrassing to say the least. Toji embarrassed you.

“Mommy, can I go see daddy?” You daughter tapped your leg as you were cutting up her and megumi some fruit to snack on.

You looked down at her with a soft smile. “Tomorrow, baby. You’re gonna see him tomorrow.” You popped a raspberry in her mouth, her favorite fruit.

“Dad’s been drinking a lot.” Megumi walked into the kitchen, stealing a piece of pineapple off of the cutting board.

“What do you mean?” You immediately question, placing the knife down.

“Beer. He gets uncle Gojo to buy it for him and drinks a whole bunch,” he explained. Your lips pursed together, inhaling deeply before you let out a frustrated sigh. You shook your head in disappointment, trying not to show the anger flowing through you right now.

“So can we go see him? I’m worried!” You daughter batted her eyelashes at you, a small frown on her face. No wonder she’s been asking to see Toji so much, it all makes sense now.

“How about you guys call him to say goodnight, mommy isn’t driving right now. Plus, it’s late.” You picked up the knife, cutting more pineapple into smaller chunks.

“Please! Please! Please, mommy!” You daughter grabbed onto the hem of your shirt, nearly ripping it off of you with the way she was begging.

“Naya, cut it out! Mom said no!” Megumi slightly raised his voice, an annoyed look on his face.

“I wasn’t asking you, dummy!” Her brows furrowed in anger, her gaze now on her brothers.

“Shut up, idiot!” Megumi shouted back.

“Aye! Cut the shit!” You warned, sharing looks between both of them. Naya huffed, stomping her little feet over to the living room. “I don’t need you guys calling each other names, alright? Naya, I said no, and that means no. And Megs, stop being mean.”

“She called me it first!” He exclaimed.

“I don’t care who did it first! I don’t need y’all fighting. Naya, come here!” You shouted from the kitchen. “Eh, stay here.” You pointed at Megumi when he tried to walk away. He let out an annoyed sigh leaning against the counter. “Naya!” She turned the corner with a frown on her face, eyes watery as she looked up at you. “Baby, what’s wrong?” As soon as you asked her that question she burst into tears. Before you could even place the knife down, Megumi picked her up and held her in his arms while she cried.

“Ny-ny, what’s wrong? I’m sorry I called you an idiot, okay? I was mad, but I shouldn’t have said that,” he said softly, rubbing her back as she cried on his shoulder. The little girl hiccuped softly, wrapping her arms around her brothers neck tightly. “Do you wanna tell mommy what’s wrong?” He asked, looking at her. He brought his hand up to her face, wiping the tears.

“Da…daddy!” She sobbed, trying to catch her breath. “I wanna see…daddy!” Tears streamed down her chubby cheeks as she laid her head back on her brothers shoulder. Megumi turned to look at you, and you could see that he was also worried about his father, even if he wasn’t as vocal as it. “Mommy!” She cried.

You reached your hands out, picking her up from Megumi and holding her to your chest. “You really wanna see daddy?” You asked, wiping off her tears with your shirt. She nodded, still whimpering and sniffling. She rubbed her puffy eyes, little fists holding onto the fabric of your shirt. “Okay, we’ll go see daddy then. Megs, put your shoes on.”

You held Naya’s hand as you walked up the steps with them. She had a little smile on her face, excited to all hell to see her father. Megumi rang the doorbell, waiting patiently with you in the cold. “You excited, huh?” You chuckled, looking down at your daughter.

“Who is it?” Toji’s deep voice spoke from the other side of the door.

“Dad, it’s us!” Megumi answered. You were a little nervous to see him, knowing that this was going to be an unexpected surprise, but you had a very valid reason for showing up here. Toji unlocked the door, confusion written all over his face when he seen you and his two kids standing outside in the cold. He barely had time to register the situation before Naya ran over to him and hugged him.

“Daddy!” She yelled followed by a giggle.

“Hey, peanut!” He picked her up like she weighed nothing, sitting her on his hip and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “What’re doing here so early, huh?” He asked with a smile.

“She’s been asking about you all day…all week actually,” you spoke. “She started crying cause she missed you so much, so I brought her over here,” you explained.

Naya fiddled with her dads lip scar, as Toji stood there and stared at you for a few minutes. It’s like he almost forgot how you sounded, it’s been so long. “Well, uh, would you like to come in or are you just dropping them off?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I’ll come in.” The only reason you accepted was because you wanted to speak to him about his drinking problem that Megumi suddenly brought up.

“Hi, buddy.” Toji ruffled Megumi’s hair, giving him a kiss on top of his head. He closed the door behind you, your eyes immediately taking notice of the four beer cans that sat on his coffee table. A rush of disappointment came washing over you as you continued to stare at them. “Don’t mind the mess,” he awkwardly chuckled, quickly trying to clean up as he sat Naya down on the couch.

You stuffed your hands in your coat pocket, standing in the middle of the living room as he grabbed the cans and quickly took them into the kitchen. “I told you,” Megumi whispered. Toji walked back into the living room, looking at you.

“So, uh, she was crying you said?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “she…she was like full on sobbing for you. Scared me shitless at first if I’m being honest.”

“Ny-ny, you can’t be scaring mommy like that.” Toji walked over, pinching her cheeks until she giggled. You watched the scene in front of you, seeing the smile on your daughter’s face when she was with Toji made your heart swell. “If you want, I can take them early, and come pick up their stuff tomorrow. You look…tired.”

You shrugged. “Just a little. It’s been a long week.” Toji nodded in agreement, standing back up right as all you stood there in silence while the two kids watched whatever was on the tv. “Toji, can I speak with you?”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s up?” He asked.

“In private.” You stared at him.

“Um, yeah. Megs, Ny, stay here, okay? Watch whatever you wanna watch.” He smiled at them.

“Megs, can we watch The Incredibles again?” Naya clung to her brothers arm as he grabbed the remote.

You followed Toji down the hallway to his bedroom. “How have you been?” You asked, shutting the door behind you.

“Me? I’ve been fine. How are you?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your eyes were locked onto him as you stood there by the door. Toji had a confused expression on his face. “Something wrong?”

“How have you been, Toji?” This time you asked with more sternly, clenching your jaw.

“I don’t get…I don’t get it.” He looked around the room as if he was being pranked, awkwardly rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Megs told me about your drinking problem. You got Gojo going out and buying beer for you all the time? Getting drunk when the kids are here?! I can smell it on your breath!” You yelled in a whisper, folding your arms across your chest.

“I only drink enough to get tipsy, okay? I wouldn’t get drunk around the kids, y/n,” he sighed, holding his head in his hands.

You scoff, “like that makes it any better. Naya keeps asking about you because she’s worried, crying her eyes out because of it, because she misses you. Megumi doesn’t say a word about how he feels, but I can tell he’s scared, Toji. You had four beers on the fucking coffee table when I walked in!” You exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

“I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m dealing with shit, y/n.” He rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor.

“We are all dealing with shit, Toji, but you gotta be there for our kids! I’m not here to argue with you, okay? I just want to know what is going on. The kids want to know what’s going on.” You looked at him with concern as he avoided your gaze completely, head still hung low.

“I can’t say it.” Toji looked up, finally locking eyes with you.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because it won’t matter, y/n. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m dealing with them. That’s all there is to it.” He bit the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes.

Your expression softened. There was no need for Toji to explain what he was talking about because you already knew. He was talking about you guys, your relationship, your marriage, your family. “It wasn’t just you, Toji,” you spoke softly. “It was me too. We grew apart. It happens.”

He shook his head. “You were only acting that way because of how I was treating you. It’s not your fault so don’t say it was, please. I’m the one who fucked it up. Back then I fucked it up, and now I’m fucking it up. Every time I got something good going on I find a way to ruin it.”

“Toji…” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He stood up from his spot on the bed and walked towards you, his muscular and tall frame trapping you against the door. “I’m sorry. I miss you, I miss what we had, mama. You gotta understand me.” He cupped your face in his hands.

“No, no, don’t do that.” You shook your head, removing his hands from you.

“Do what, mama?” He asked softly.

“That, Toji.” You kept shaking your head at him. “I can’t. We can’t.”

“Why not? Hm?” He tried to catch your eye.

“I’m with someone else,” you bluntly said. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, almost deafening in your ears as you stood there against the door. There was nothing but silence from Toji. He took a step back from you.

“Is it him?” Toji asked. All you did was nod. He scoffed. “So y’all are really together?”

“Yeah, we are,” you answered. “He treats me good, makes me happy.”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” Toji questioned.

“I didn’t say that!” You looked at him in disbelief.

“That’s not what you said the last time we spoke to each other. What you said fucking hurt me. You hate me. You wish you never married me. Remember that?” Toji cocked his head to the side.

“I was upset, Toji.” You rolled your eyes.

“You just don’t say shit like that, y/n. Never once in our entire relationship together have I said some shit like that to you.” He stood there, waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say! I came here because Naya was worried about you and Megumi told me about your drinking problem. That’s all I came to talk about! I didn’t come to talk about what we had going on, okay? So just fucking drop it. I’m happier, I’m better. I’m getting treated the way I deserve to be treated for the first time in my life." You snapped.

“For the first time in your life? Are you hearing how you sound right now? I know I wasnt perfect, but I did everything I could to make you happy. Yes, there were some things I could’ve done better, but I loved you like you were supposed to be loved. Why else would I marry you?” Toji walked towards you again.

“Then you should’ve showed that love. Just know I’ll be better without you.” You opened the bedroom door, walking down the hallway.

“Y/n!” Toji shouted. He followed after you as you ignored him. “Y/n!” He shouted again.

“Stop following me, Toji! I’m leaving!” You screamed.

Megumi and Naya looked over at both of you, seeing you two yelling. “I’m not done talking to you!” Toji grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“Well, I am!” You snatched your arm back from him.

“Stop it!” Megumi yelled, covering his little sisters ears.

You and Toji looked over at the kids sitting on the couch, Naya’s eyes watery, lip wobbly as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Megumi shared looks between both of you, concern and fear written on his face. “Come on, let’s go back home. You’ll see daddy tomorrow.”

“I wanna stay!” Naya pouted.

“Naya, please, get in the car.” You sighed in frustration, grabbing her hand.

“No! No!” She started screaming, dropping to the floor and kicking around, throwing a tantrum.

“Get up, Naya! I’m not gonna ask you again!” You lifted her off of the floor, grabbing her hand again. She pulled away from you, running over to Toji, hugging his legs.

“Fine. Fine. Stay with your father. I’ll see both of you in a few days. I love you.” You grabbed your keys from your coat pocket, walking to the front door, slamming it shut behind you.

“Come here, baby girl.” Toji picked his daughter up.

“You two always fight! I hate it!” Megumi stormed out of the living room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, making Naya jump. Toji stood there in the living room with his daughter, a lump forming in his throat. He let out a choked sob, immediately hiding his face from his daughter.

“Daddy, don’t cry.” She wiped his tears away.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He sniffled. Your family was falling apart right in front of Toji’s eyes. Megumi is looking for a way out of this family at such a young age, indulging in video games and tv to drown out the real problems. Naya conflicted with her feelings, crying constantly because of the state both of you were in, affecting her. Nothing is like it was before. Toji hated this was happening. This is was last thing he ever wanted.

You sat in your car outside of his house, wiping your tears from how overwhelmed you were. You were at a loss on how to fix this. Each time you tried, it ended the same. You were fearful it was going to keep getting worse, worse until there was no way to reverse the damage done.

series masterlist

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[sturnmeovr]

"Babe?" Chris's voice echoes thru the apartment, followed by the front door closing behind him. Flipping the heavy comforter back, you pull yourself to your feet, stumbling out of his bedroom. The hardwood floors felt cold on the bottoms of your feet as you made your way to the kitchen, knowing that’s where he’d be. "Jiffy peanut butter, kosher dill pickles, Mcdonalds french fries, and a vanilla ice cream cone," he names off the list of food items you texted him on his way home. 

Chris got his license a few weeks ago, making it a lot easier for him to get the frequent cravings your baby urged upon you throughout the days. Before he’d always rely on Matt or he’d take your car and risk it, not wanting you to drive when you were vomiting every half hour. You let out a sigh of relief once he tells you he got everything you wanted, the ice cream and fries were the only thing your baby allowed you to eat, but recently you’d had a hankering for pickles and peanut butter. "Thank you. Beans been wanting these since last night," you hum, tiptoeing to press a kiss to his lips. Chris leans into the kiss before placing a hand on your belly, "whatever he wants. I know all you can keep down is fries and ice cream, so I got extra," he admits, digging a hand into the mcdonalds bag, and taking out a few fries to shove into his mouth. You make your way to the silverware drawer, pulling out two spoons and a butter knife, quickly making your way back to him to take a spot on one of the barstools at the island.

You watch as Chris pulls one item after the other out of the bag - a half pint of vanilla ice cream, kosher dill pickles, and jiffy peanut butter. Next, moving to the McDonald’s bags, he had clearly got extra for his brothers. Not being able to wait any longer, you fumble with the lid of the pickle jar, desperately trying to open it. Chris bites back a smile at your impatientness, "chill, kid. I’ll get it in a second, geez," he chuckles while his hands are still busy separating the orders. His response makes you huff and sit back in your seat, placing a hand over your belly as you realize Bean was doing somersaults at the smell of McDonald’s french fries, or maybe it was cause your baby’s dad was around. It was very evident that anytime Chris was near, your baby was very active. It didn’t matter if he was touching or talking to your belly, or if he was just simply next to you. His cologne always being a dead giveaway for baby bean to start the bullshit, flipping and kicking you relentlessly until you were uncomfortable. 

You were excited how fast paced your pregnancy was going. You were eighteen weeks in, nearly half way thru your second trimester and your pregnancy. Even though your morning sickness was just now letting up, the anticipation thickened in your gut by the day. The thought of having your baby in your arms was becoming more and more real. 

In the beginning, you had a hard time wrapping your head around the idea of you being someone’s mother. You and Chris’s relationship was progressing fast, and he seemed to be on his best behavior, knowing how he was in the past made you uneasy about how he’d do once the baby was here, but only time could tell. You were just grateful you weren’t going thru these difficult nine months alone. 

Nick walks around the corner, messy haired and sleepy eyed. You watch as he pulls open the fridge door, grabbing a drink, turning to you and Chris, "what is today?" he asks, gesturing towards the ingredients placed on the counter. You groan in annoyance, it irritated you that you didn’t have control over your own appetite, "I’m not sure yet. Either pickles and peanut butter or ice cream and French fries again," you hold out the pickle jar to him and he takes it willingly, popping it open with one easy twist of his wrist, and handing it back to you. "Thank you," you mouth before flipping the lid off to fish out a pickle. 

"Impatient ass," Chris teases, sucking his teeth playfully. "You were taking forever," you mumble as you open the peanut butter jar, tearing the paper seal off, and dipping your pickle into it. Chris and Nick watch you in disgust as you chop down on the pickle. You let a satisfied moan erupt from your lungs as the crunch of the pickles mix with the thick, sticky peanut butter, making baby bean thrash around as soon as the mixture hits your taste buds. "Yup," you cover your mouth as you talk, pointing at the peanut butter, "this is it," feeling accomplished you finally satisfied the pregnancy craving you had since last night. You felt relieved that you and the baby were finally agreeing with something other than fries and vanilla ice cream. 

"That’s foul. Your kid like pickles, it’s gonna be a fucking menace," Nick jokes as he scrunches his face. His comment earns a shit-eating grin from Chris, and you shrug your shoulders, not caring about your disgusting food concoction. There was no way you’d be eating this if there wasn’t a little being inside of you telling you that you needed it. You dip the pickle again, and Chris speaks up before you can take another bite, "let me try." 

You raise your eyebrows at him, surprised that he was even asking. He didn’t even like pickles. "Chris, if you try that I’m literally going to puke," Nick chimes in, slapping a hand over his mouth as he watches Chris take a peanut butter covered pickle from you, "I don’t know. She makes it look good, man," Chris says as he eyeballs the savory goodness nervously, looking at you for confirmation. You shrug, "you probably won’t like it if you don’t like pickles," telling him before taking a few french fries from the meal he placed in front of you moments earlier. 

You look over at Nick, he was already plotting on his next works, a smirk laid on thick across his lips, “no balls.” Chris furrows his brows at his brother, “I have balls. My girlfriends pregnant,” he shoots back, leaning towards you. "Not enough hair on to take a bite of that nasty ass -" Nick's words come to a halt as Chris chops down on the pickle, "oh my god. Chris, you’re disgusting!” You watch as Chris’s face contorts with repulsion, laughing with Nick as tosses it down on the counter, gagging while he runs to the trash can to spit it out, "think m’gonna be sick," he calls out before making his way back to the counter to take a drink of his Pepsi, "yea I’ll stick with the fries and ice cream."

"Yea, good plan," you tell him, patting his back before fishing out another pickle to dip. 

Wc - 1186

An - Back with another one, Baby Bean has only let sweetheart!Reader keep ice cream and mcdonalds french fries down (obvi cause its Chris's kids) but pickles dipped in peanut butter have recently been added to the menu 😭 Doing the gender reveal soon! <3

-Send me asks about sweetheart!Reader & babydaddy!Chris

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[billy-macher-stu-loomis]

like a deer — yandere! poly! stuilly x male! prescott! reader

length: 1.1k

requested by 🌀!!

the plot of this one one got away from me a little bit whoops

major tws: murder (duh), graphic depictions of violence, major character death (it’s not you or our pretty boys though <3), knifeplay? idk they get real fucking horny with it, dubcon!! serious dubcon with the knife stuff, billy also gets kinda slutty with blood too srry, a kind of graphic description of a roadkill deer, some of that nice 90s internalized homophobia, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, manipulation/coercion? sort of?, these little homosexual freaks are unhinged (you included)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The first to go was Casey Becker.

Your next door neighbor.

They’d found her hanging from a tree in her front yard, gutted like a deer.

You, of course, had been the first person questioned by the police. Shaken and disturbed, you’d quickly found solace in your best friends, Billy and Stu.

~~~

The glass of Stu’s bedroom window was cold against your knuckles as you rapped on it. You only had to wait a moment in the freezing cold before the window slid open, a sleepy Billy rubbing his eyes as he let you inside.

“You forgot to put the spare key back under the doormat, you asshole,” you grumble to Stu as you clamber into his massive rich-boy bed. The taller boy giggles, wrapping his arms around you.

The two of them had always been touchy with you. Always with a hand on your hip or your lower back, an arm slung over your shoulders, interlaced fingers…

(You had your own suspicions that Billy and Stu might be…together, but you’d never say it aloud.)

It was totally normal for guys to share a bed at a sleepover, right? Girls do it all the time.

Totally normal.

~~~

Next to go was your girlfriend, Heather.

You didn’t feel sad. You felt…numb. You felt nothing.

I’m just so sad that I can’t even feel anything, you reasoned with yourself, trying not to think too much about Billy’s hand wandering a little closer to your ass than usual as he wrapped you up in a sympathetic hug. That’s it. Of course. Boys always feel relieved when their girlfriends die. That’s totally normal. Everything’s fine.

~~~

One by one, your friend group was shrinking. People were being killed off left and right. You’d gotten the news about Janis right you and Billy left the movie theater. Sadie had been found in the pool by her big brother while you were busy beating Stu ass at Chutes and Ladders. When Wyatt turned up dead, you’d been taking a joyride with Billy in his dad’s Viper. When Teddy died, you’d been getting ice cream with Stu.

All four were found gutted.

Like deer.

Despite how much they’d been hanging out with you as of late, you’d declined Billy and Stu’s invitation to come hunting with them that weekend.

~~~

“You wanna come over after school? My dad’s outta town, so we can watch whatever the hell we want.”

“Can’t. I’ve got, uh, homework,” you lie, refusing to meet Billy’s eyes as you slammed your locker shut and hurried away.

~~~

“You’ve been avoiding us all week,” Billy accuses, stepping in front of the door to block your exit as you try to leave the cafeteria

“Did we do something wrong?” Stu asks anxiously, fluttering around by Billy’s side.

“No! No. Of course not.”

“Then why are you avoiding us?”

You bite your lip, nervous to tell them the truth.

“I’m afraid you two will be next.”

~~~

Absently, you wonder how Stu’s going to get all of that blood out of his nice beige sweater. You’d bought him that sweater last year for Christmas.

Stu kneels in front of you, resting his bloody hands on your hips as he looks up at you imploringly. “Please forgive us?”

How do you get blood out of clothes? Cold water? Or— is it warm water? Sidney would know. You ought to ask her.

“Baby?” Stu begs, his fingers curling in your shirt as he grips you tightly.

Oh. Right. You can’t ask Sidney.

She’s dead.

Billy is skillfully using his body to block your view of the carnage on the floor, doing his best to keep you from freaking out.

His hands are on you, running through your hair, lightly touching your cheek. He’s sticky, with your sister’s blood, your father’s blood, Stu’s blood, his own blood, and fucking corn syrup.

“Sweetheart?” Stu questions, hooking a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugging on it lightly. “See? We love you.”

You’re horrified. They murdered thirteen people to show their love.

(You would’ve been fine with just a box of chocolates and some flowers, but y’know. Billy refuses to half-ass things.)

“Do you need us to prove it to you?”

Stu’s got a crazed look in his eye that makes you shrink back. But Billy’s grip on you is tight enough that you can barely move at all, forced to watch as Stu yanks off his ruined sweater, unabashedly moaning like a slut when the fabric catches on his fresh stab wounds, ripping back open the flesh that was so desperately trying to knit itself back together.

Billy hands Stu his buck knife, watching with rapt attention as the man holds it over his chest. Stu doesn’t even flinch, watching in a trance as the tip of the blade sinks into his flesh, droplets of red already welling to the surface. He drags the blade along his skin, carving your initials into his chest, right above his heart.

When he’s finished, he hands the knife back to Billy, who reverently takes it, studying the fresh red sheen on the metal before pressing his tongue flat against the side of the blade and licking off Stu’s blood.

You look away, disgusted and somehow turned on at the same time.

(You can’t help but sneak a look when the two boys share a messy, blood- and spit-soaked kiss. Fuck.)

Billy yanks off his corn syrup-stained white shirt, tossing it carelessly on the floor, where it hits your dead father in the face. He steadies the knife, holding it over his chest and doing the same thing as Stu just did.

You choke out a sob, unable to rectify this image of your boys as psychotic murderers with the image of them just last night, cuddling up with you in bed and leeching off of your warmth and rambling about horror movies.

“Sweetheart?” Billy murmurs, cupping your face in his hand. “Look. Look, see? We love you. We love you.”

They love you. They love you.

You keep mentally repeating that mantra to yourself. Even as you are forced to scrunch your eyes through the pain of the knife carving two sets of initials into your chest. Even as you look at the bodies of your sister and father one last time. Even as Billy scoops you up to carry you to Stu’s van in a way that’s supposed to be playful but just comes across as a final doomed death sentence, the clang! of a prison door slamming shut. You repeat your mantra even as you pass by the bodies of Randy and Dewey; even the mutilated body of that obnoxious bitch from Top Story makes you have to look away.

They love you. They love you.

Stu drives, on the lamb. Billy lays in the back with you, curled up with you on the bed in Stu’s stupid “shaggin’ wagon”.

Your eyes are glued to the smiley-face shaped air freshener dangling from Stu’s rear view mirror. You can’t look at Billy right now.

They love you. They love you.

You can almost trick yourself into believing it, at least for a little while.

But the sight of the dead deer on the side of the road, visible through the front windshield, its chest smashed and broken like a piñata, sends you spiraling.

When you look back at the stupid air freshener hanging from the mirror, its bright yellow face smiling at you only feels mocking and cruel. All you can see is Casey’s body hanging from that damned tree.

They love you. They love you.

[nhmkhnh]

caitvi x idol!fem!reader

preface: they were in love, until you walked on stage and made them both wonder what it meant to want something they couldn’t share.

author's note: listening to angel by massive attack while writing this!! goddess-like reader is always my thing, heheh. chat bot on janitor is here!

wrn: lowercase, obsessive behaviors (?)

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

♫ angel - massive attack [slowed].

opening night fever

they didn’t even speak as the curtain rose.

caitlyn’s hand was already resting delicately on vi’s thigh, a quiet gesture of closeness they’d shared a thousand times before. but this time, vi didn’t lean into it. her entire body had gone still. the spotlight had cut through the haze of the theater, and you stepped into it—draped in velvet, all glittering eyes and impossible curves, moving like a promise no one could ever keep.

caitlyn didn’t breathe. her fingers tightened on vi without thinking.

“she’s…” caitlyn started, then stopped.

vi didn’t look at her. “i know.”

and they watched you—watched the way you sang without fear, the way the lights wrapped around your skin like they knew exactly how to worship you. the way the audience leaned forward, spellbound. but neither vi nor caitlyn heard the music anymore. they were too busy falling.

the autograph line

the show had ended an hour ago, and yet caitlyn remained, lingering near the back of the crowd with a practiced smile and her hands clasped in front of her like a debutante.

you sat behind a black velvet-draped table, pen in hand, laughing softly with each fan who came forward. there was a smudge of glitter still clinging to your jawline. caitlyn watched the curve of your smile like it was a secret map, like if she studied it long enough she might unlock whatever spell you’d cast that night.

when you looked up—just a flicker, maybe even at random—caitlyn’s heart stuttered.

you didn’t see her, she was sure. but she stepped forward anyway, rehearsing a dozen false names in her mind. she had no intention of speaking. she just wanted to be closer. to see the way you held a pen, how your lashes looked up close.

just to witness you, for one more second.

caught in the wings

vi wasn’t supposed to be there. again.

she’d bribed a stagehand with two bottles of shimmered whiskey and a promise not to start a fight. that got her close enough to slip into the narrow darkened wing just as the second act ended.

you were laughing.

the sound floated from your dressing room, soft and easy, and vi felt it in her knees. she pressed her back to the wall, holding her breath as she listened. you were talking to someone—maybe another performer, maybe a stage tech—but all vi could focus on was the cadence of your voice, the way it dipped low when amused, the way it warmed like honey over soft laughter.

she imagined that laugh directed at her. imagined your smile curling just for her.

and then someone brushed past her shoulder. she turned quickly—heart hammering—only to see a blur of caitlyn’s profile disappear into the corridor.

vi clenched her fists. fuck.

she wasn’t the only one sneaking around tonight.

shared obsession

it started with silence. it ended in tension thick enough to choke on.

“you’ve been distant,” caitlyn said one night, her voice casual but sharp as a knife.

vi shrugged. “you’ve been quiet, too.”

they sat on opposite ends of the couch, a bottle of unopened wine between them. neither reached for it.

there was no mention of you. but both were thinking about the same moment: your last performance, the breathless way you’d descended the stairs, the way your lips had parted as if singing to them and them alone.

caitlyn finally broke. “she’s… talented.”

vi let out a sharp breath. “yeah. that’s one word for it.”

they didn’t speak the rest of the night.

anonymous gifts

you started receiving roses—always white, always wrapped in thick blue ribbon. no card.

then came the hand-crafted chocolates, imported from piltover’s oldest shop. again, unsigned.

vi paced her apartment, furious. “what the fuck do you mean, she’s already gotten something?”

she’d gone to deliver a vintage vinyl she’d hunted down just for you—only to find the concierge telling her someone else had beaten her to it.

that someone was caitlyn.

meanwhile, caitlyn studied the stage program on her lap, eyes narrowing when she saw a tiny pen smudge on your name. like someone had traced their finger over the ink too many times.

she didn't know what vi was giving you.

she only knew she had to give more.

a gala appearance

you were never supposed to be there.

it was a piltover elite-only affair—diplomats, military, high society. vi and caitlyn arrived arm-in-arm, perfectly poised, heads held high.

then you stepped into the ballroom like the climax of a fantasy.

wearing red silk.

vi forgot how to breathe. caitlyn’s nails dug into vi’s arm.

they didn’t move. just watched as people flocked to you—politicians, actors, women in gowns worth entire salaries. you smiled, gracious, aloof, as if you hadn’t just walked into their world and split it in half.

later that night, neither of them mentioned you.

but they both stared at the same spot in bed: the empty middle space between their pillows.

the magazine spread

it wasn’t just a magazine. it was the magazine.

your face on the cover. your voice quoted in gold. a six-page spread inside, filled with photos neither caitlyn nor vi had ever seen—your smile wide, your shoulders bare, your mouth caught mid-laugh.

vi read it three times, then threw it across the room. her hands trembled. the interviewer had asked you if you were seeing anyone.

you’d smiled and said, “i like to keep my admirers guessing.”

caitlyn tore out the centerfold and folded it delicately into a book of poetry. she told herself she was saving it for posterity.

she kept the book beside her bed.

too close

it was a rooftop party, full of lights and champagne and faces vi couldn’t stand.

you were there—laughing, dancing in heels, your dress slit up to your hip.

then some man leaned too close. whispered something in your ear.

vi didn’t move, didn’t speak. but her jaw clenched so hard she thought she might crack a tooth.

across the party, caitlyn had gone still, her smile frozen. her hand clenched around the stem of her glass until it snapped.

they didn’t speak to each other that night. but both of them left the party early. and both of them dreamed about you.

backstage “coincidence”

the velvet curtain had just fallen. the roar of the audience was still echoing in the rafters, muffled behind thick walls, and the scent of sweat, perfume, and warm stage light still clung to the air. backstage was alive with frenzied crew, bouquets being shuffled into dressing rooms, and people congratulating themselves for being close to greatness.

vi wasn’t supposed to be there. she knew it. she’d told caitlyn she had business in zaun, something about a favor owed, a name dropped—whatever excuse she could mumble while slipping out before caitlyn could ask for details. her boots thudded softly on the wood flooring as she walked with her head low, her hand clenched around a box of chocolates she’d picked up on the way—nothing too fancy, but it looked nice. casual. thoughtful. like she hadn’t stood outside the shop for twenty minutes debating which one you’d like most.

and then she turned the corner—and stopped.

caitlyn was already there.

she stood near the far end of the hallway, in front of your dressing room door, clutching a single white peony wrapped in parchment, looking almost too elegant for the cramped chaos of backstage. her hair was pinned with precision. her spine straight. her expression unreadable—until she saw vi.

for one perfect, excruciating second, they just stared at each other.

neither spoke.

the silence was thick and slow. caitlyn’s eyes flicked to the box in vi’s hand. vi, lips tightening, looked down at the flower.

"didn’t think you’d be here," vi said, voice low, casual in a way that was anything but.

"nor did i expect you," caitlyn replied, tone clipped, jaw ticking with restraint. "business in zaun, was it?"

vi gave a half-smile. "yeah. wrapped it up fast."

caitlyn didn’t move. she looked at the door behind her—the one that led to you. "i thought i’d stop by. just to… extend my compliments."

"funny," vi said, her grin widening without warmth. "that’s exactly what i was doing."

another beat of silence. a crewmember passed awkwardly between them. neither woman moved. caitlyn’s grip on the flower tightened. vi’s knuckles whitened around the candy box.

"we should go," caitlyn said after a moment. "she’ll be busy. celebrating."

"right," vi muttered, but made no effort to leave.

they stood there another second too long—like two guns drawn, waiting for the other to blink. then caitlyn turned gracefully on her heel, tucking the flower back into her coat like it hadn’t almost betrayed her. she walked past vi without another word. vi lingered just a moment longer. she looked at your door. then sighed, muttered a curse under her breath, and shoved the box onto a table nearby before following caitlyn into the night.

neither of them knew the other had also slipped their name onto the vip guest list for your next show.

and neither dared to ask.

silent confessions

vi sat on the balcony, smoking.

caitlyn was asleep in their bed.

the city glowed below, and in her lap was one of your signed posters—taken from a stagehand’s office weeks ago. vi traced your name with her thumb. smiled.

“you’ve got no idea,” she whispered. “what you’re doing to me.”

she didn’t know if she meant it like a threat or a prayer.

dreams they don’t admit

caitlyn woke with a gasp, hand reaching out—grasping for something soft, something warm. something not vi.

she sat up, chest heaving, her pulse racing.

she’d dreamed of you.

of your fingers in her hair. of your lips on her collarbone.

of you whispering, “you want me too, don’t you?”

she buried her face in her hands.

gods, yes.

breaking point

it was late.

they were drunk—on wine, exhaustion, something deeper.

“she’s in your head too, isn’t she?” vi said, her voice raw.

caitlyn froze. “don’t.”

vi turned to her. “say it.”

caitlyn’s mouth trembled. “she was never supposed to mean anything.”

but the truth was there—in the way they looked at each other. in the ache between them.

neither of them could say it aloud.

but they both knew.

you had already broken something sacred.

and neither of them wanted to fix it.

[ninus9607]

❝𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬❞

𝟣𝟢. 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝓅𝓉𝟤

Pairing(s): Marvel Characters x Female! reader

Word count: 2K

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DARK/POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, DEATH, AND BLOOD

tags l content: fluff, jealousy, blood, death

AN: I hope you like it.... please forgive me for every mistake!! English is not my first language!

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow

You were in the training room, sweat pouring on your forehead, hair knotted messily back, and you were laughing, genuinely laughing, at something Sam had just said. You had been sparring for the past hour, exchanging punches and mocking words. 

Sam was a great companion; What you didn't notice was the quiet click of the door opening. Or the way Natasha had stopped in the doorway, silently watching you. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes unreadable, but her jaw was tense. Too tense.calm, witty, and quick on his feet.

She watched the way your hand lingered on Sam's shoulder when you congratulated him on landing a hit. The way you smiled up at him, flushed and glowing from exertion. And it made something bitter rise in her chest. Something possessive. Something she hated feeling—but couldn't ignore.

"Having fun?" Her voice cut through the air like a knife.

You turned, startled. "Nat? My love!"

Sam glanced between the two of you, caught the tension, and gave a quick, polite exit. "I'll, uh... hit the showers. Good one, Y/N."

You watched him go, then turned back to Natasha. She hadn't moved.

"Didn't know you were coming down," you said gently, waiting for her response. 

"Clearly," she replied, her tone clipped. "You looked busy."

You crossed the mat toward her. "Are you mad?"

She did not respond right away. Her attention moved to your neck, where a faint bruise had formed from a missed block. "You let him get that close?" "It was training."

"It didn't look like training."

You stopped in front of her. "Are you jealous?" A big smirk appeared on my face.

"I don't get jealous," she snapped, then caught herself. Her voice lowered. "I just don't like seeing hands on you that aren't mine."

You stepped in closer, brushing your fingers lightly over her arm. "You could've come down sooner. Joined us. You know how I love training with you."

Her eyes finally softened, just a little. "I didn't want to share."

Then she leaned in, her mouth close to your ear, voice a breath of silk and steel: "Next time you want to work up a sweat, you come to me, detka. Got it?"

Your breath caught. You nodded.

"Good," she murmured, and with that, she tugged you toward the locker room, with very different plans for how your next training would end.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

The tower was strangely silent. There are no meetings. There are no briefs. Simply a rare, delightful day off. As you sat at the counter, sipping tea and admiring your girlfriend's beautiful movements, the sun flooded through the kitchen windows. 

Wanda hummed gently to herself as she prepared dinner for everyone, dressed in a loose red sweater that dropped off one shoulder and a simple pair of leggings that somehow made her appear like she had walked out of a dream.

She glanced over her shoulder at you, smiling with a softness that made your heart melt. "You're staring again, Detka."

"You're so beautiful," you replied without hesitation.

Just then, the door opened, revealing a blonde, Agent Carter, also known as Steve's lover or flirt? Nobody really knows. Strolled into the room.

"Oh, Sharon, what brought you here?"

"Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting," she replied, smiling.

Wanda looked up from her pot, her nose wrinkling slightly. "Not at all," she said with a pleasant grin and a little tense tone.

"I thought I'd drop by before heading out. Heard there's no work today."

Wanda looked up, her jaw tightening for a half second before smoothing over. You welcomed Sharon cheerfully, scooting off the counter to show her something on your phone- something concerning your powers, which she had inquired about weeks before out of innocent curiosity.

Sharon came in closer than necessary, her arm brushing against yours as she chuckled at something you said.

Wanda's spoon clattered on the sideboard. She did not pick it up. Her eyes glisten with red.

Sharon was asking questions about the missions, gesticulating with her hands and touching yourself a few times, but you didn't notice since you knew Sharon was a contact person and meant it nicely, but Wanda had a different perspective. She remained quiet the entire time, withdrawn and observing the scenario.

The moment Sharon touched your waist to show something, Wanda ran out of patience...

"Y/n, my darling, could you come here? I want you to taste it." Her voice was smooth and calm - too calm.

You excused yourself with a lovely smile and walked in behind her, only for her to place her hand low on your back as you tasted the sauce she had cooked. She leaned forward, lips brushing across your ear. "I don't like how she's so close to you."

Before you could react, her hands grabbed your waist and lifted you onto the counter beside the stove. Her glance darted quickly to Sharon before landing on yours, the passion behind them. Wanda slipped between your legs, her fingers warm on your thighs. "I believe you need a little reminder of who you belong to," she murmured softly and teasingly.

Sharon chuckled uncomfortably from across the room. "Right... I'll probably find Steve..." Wanda didn't even look up. "That would be best."

Wanda didn't even wait for Sharon to leave the room before attacking your neck with her kisses, leaving an impressive love bite behind. Her hands were all over your body, and the food she was preparing was totally forgotten.

"Wan-da," kiss, kiss, "My love"

"Yes?"

"We need to stop, we-" She kissed you again, and you didn't have a chance to speak again until, with a flick of her magic, she shut off the meal she was preparing and held you in her arms.

"Be my good girl and stay quiet..."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Agatha Harkness

As rain tapped gently on the windows, the record player in the corner rang quietly, spinning an old jazz tune. You were standing in the kitchen, sleeves pulled up, stirring a cup of warm blood tea, a combination Agatha had created specifically for you. The home smelled of lavender, cloves, and iron.

You did not hear the front door open until Agatha's old "friend," A witch, elegant, with the sort of smile Agatha hated on others, asked you some questions. You didn't even know how she got into the house, but she was likely looking for Agatha, and your front door was open.

Agatha stopped in the kitchen doorway just after you spoke, laughing at something, unaware that anybody had entered.

She said nothing at first. She saw the two of you, your sweet smiles, how your eyes lit up when you told her how Agatha takes care of you, and how the other woman leaned a little too near to the counter.

You didn't see how Agatha's jaw clenched. But you sensed her presence. You could hear her heartbeat and breathing.

Suddenly, she was behind you, hands on your waist. "Darling," she murmured, her lips brushing across your ear.

"Jane, what brought you here?" She replied with a fake smile. You turned, surprised by her tone. The other woman took a small, polite step back.

Agatha's hands remained firmly on your waist during the conversation about witchcraft, which you never understood. And they didn't move one millimeter.

Agatha smiled with sharp teeth and sweet poison. "Thanks for stopping by, Jane. But I think my wife and I have dinner plans."

You always knew how Agatha didn't like anyone but you, and their friendship was more like forced cooperation, because Agatha knew she couldn't kill her because of her potion-making powers.

When the door shut, you turned to Agatha with an arched brow. "Dinner plans?"

She leaned in, pressing you back against the wall, one hand trailing up your side. "You looked too lovely not to be claimed," she whispered, eyes dark and possessive. "Didn't like her looking at you like she had the right."

You grinned. "So territorial."

She kissed your neck, slowly. "Of course I am. You're mine."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Rio Vidal / Death

The alleys of the village market were alive with activity, the sounds of sellers yelling their products blending with the aroma of freshly baked bread and juicy fruits. You moved through it all, navigating through the crowd with a basket in hand, a calm smile on your face as you surveyed the many items on show. The sun was sinking, throwing a warm golden glow across the entire panorama.

But something seemed odd. You could feel someone's heavy, persistent stare on the back of your neck. You turned quickly to look over the crowd around you, but found nothing strange.

Then you overheard him. A low, mocking voice behind you murmurs, "You look so beautiful. Why is such a gorgeous girl here alone? Where is your husband? I can soon become your husband if you don't already have one."

You didn't turn around or flinch, but you sensed his presence. His words strike a dirty tone. The way he thought he could own you. You took a calm breath, ignoring him, and tried to move faster. But he refused to back down. "I am not interested." "Don't ignore me, darling," the voice said again, this time heavily closer, his hand pressing against your arm as he wanted to grip your wrist.

Your heart quickened, and before you could react, someone stepped from the shadow of a neighboring building. Rio. The guy, drunk with confidence, turned to approach her, a sneer lingering on his lips. "Who do you think you are, woman?" he hissed, his arrogance mixed with the vodka in his breath. "Move along, or I'll make sure your pretty little face looks worse than that."

Rio's smile was colder than any wind you'd ever seen, her voice soft and terrifying, a dark song in the nighttime air. "You have made a mistake, stranger." You can't touch her. Ever."

Before he could respond, she moved. It happened so quickly that you nearly missed it, one moment she was standing there, and the next the man was gasping for air with her fingers around his throat. His feet hung inches off the ground.

"Rio..." you muttered, your heart pumping.

The man's face flushed scarlet, and his fists clawed at her wrist, but he couldn't get free. The energy surrounding you shifted, becoming heavy with the tension that only Rio could generate. The air tasted like blood. Like death.

Rio lowered him to his knees, and before he could say another word, she broke his neck with a painful crunch. His corpse lay crushed on the ground, stationary.

The hush that ensued was deafening. The world around you seemed to stop as you stood there, watching Rio's icy gaze soften as she turned to face you.

You did not yell. You did not back away. Instead, you took a step closer, your pulse hammering and your gaze fixed on hers with unusual intensity. You had a burning desire. Perhaps it was the danger you had just observed, or it might have been something different. You didn't quite know. 

Rio curved her lips into a seductive, almost predatory smile as she noticed the expression in your eyes. She approached you, her moves graceful and deliberate, her eyes scorching into your soul.

You knew you should have been terrified and rushed away screaming, but nothing happened. Rio's actions simply served to increase your desire for her.

Without saying anything, her palm grabbed the side of your face, luring you into a violent, hungry kiss that took your breath away. She kissed you as if she had been waiting for this moment, as if she couldn't bear the thought of anybody else gazing at you. Her kiss was hot and demanding, and her lips bruised yours as her free hand went to the small of your back, bringing you close to her.

You gasped into her mouth, grasping the front of her coat, unable to resist the kiss. Her flavor was intoxicating like fire, with the promise of something dark and wicked.

Her lips left yours for a brief moment, but she didn't let you go. Instead, she pushed you back against the trunk of a nearby tree, her body pressing against yours....

"You're mine," she growled softly against your lips, each word searing into your skin. "Mine to protect. Mine to claim."

AN:  I AM AT A LOSS FOR WORDS FOR WHAT I HAVE JUST WRITTEN

xx

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

Guns N’ Roses Fic: Joyride

Summary: You and Axl take a long car ride together, along the winding country roads, hoping it'll cool down his grouchy mood. When that doesn't work, you decide to cuddle with him. This exacerbates the whole situation, causing Axl to take his frustrations out on you, to the point where you use your safe word. Requested by anon.

Characters: Axl Rose and (female) reader.

Pairing(s): Axl Rose/female reader, Axl Rose/ reader.

Rating: Explicit, 21+

Word Count: 3,186

Warnings: Cussing, physical altercation, childhood trauma, fingering, anal penetration, humiliation, degradation, oral sex, water sports, and cutting.

A/N: This is considered dark fiction. Please, DO NOT read if a physically rough Axl isn't your cup of tea. If it is, I hope you enjoy!

It was a cold October day. The wind rustled through the trees, forcing red, orange, and yellow leaves to fall on the ground like snow.

You sat in the passengers seat of Axl’s car, watching the scenery unfold in front of your peripheral vision. Then your eyes wandered over to Axl where he kept his focus on the road, not daring to look at you, while gripping the steering wheel tightly and clenching his jaw. He was vexed. You did notice a slight shift of tension fuming in the air this morning, but weren’t able to pinpoint what caused his irritation.

Unlike Axl’s usual days, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, in a fowl mood, not bothering to say “good morning,” or greet you with a sweet, tender kiss. During breakfast, he ignored your presence by pretending to be lost in thought as he idly picked at his scrambled eggs with a fork like a picky child. When you asked what was bothering him he let the silence fill your ears of his vacant troubles. It stumped you. He was never this quiet. He always ranted and cursed on and on about what made him furious. Was he angry at one of his bandmates? Did you do something wrong? Did he have a bad dream? Were you the one who induced a nightmare on his behalf? So many questions swarmed your head, yet, none of them were answered.

You didn’t notice any behavioral changes last night. He came home from the studio, ate dinner with you, chatted, shared a bottle of wine, and went to bed. Maybe he drank too much and was experiencing a mild hangover? Or maybe he stored away his problems to be dealt with the next day? You couldn’t be for certain.

“Babe,” your voice cut through the quietness like a knife. “Talk to me.”

A few seconds passed before Axl muttered a reply. “‘Bout what?”

You shrugged. “About you. What’s got you so upset?”

You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of a response, or perhaps a lie. “Nothing. Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s none of your damn business anyway,” he grumbled.

“I want to make it my business.” You insisted playfully, showing your pearly white teeth in hopes it would lighten his mood.

Unfortunately, Axl never broke eye contact from the road. He exhaled a huff through his nostrils and repositioned his hands on the wheel.

“You’re not mad at me, are you…?” It felt like you were treading on thin ice. You didn’t want to annoy Axl by bombarding him with questions, but you also wanted to know who, or what, pissed him off, and help him cope. It tore you apart whenever you saw him fighting his own demons alone. You wanted to remind him that he didn’t have to battle any of his hardships by himself. You were there by his side and were willing to help, no matter the circumstances. Even if it meant getting scorched by the flames.

“Just drop it,” he cautioned.

You were beginning to feel the ice crack below your feet. One more word and you could plunge into the deep, cold, dark abyss. Leaning back in the seat, you watched the green hills and cattle roll past. If he was shut off from words, maybe physical affection might help warm his heart, you thought.

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his body stiffen at the contact. “Shh, shh.” Your delicate, slim fingers traced over his Celtic cross tattoo, rubbing small circles on the skull version of himself. You loved cuddling him and feeling the heat radiate off his body into yours. It felt comforting.

Axl grunted and shoved you away from his shoulder with such force that your head thumped into the window. “Ow! What the fuck?!” You yelled, covering your head where it throbbed.

“Don’t fuckin’ try me!” He warned.

You were shocked your head didn’t break through the glass, or at least crack the pane. You stared at him and saw no lines of remorse etched into his features. If he wanted to be rough and take it out on you, fine. But you weren’t gonna allow his temper to bring you down to his level. Two opposite attractions could play at this game. Your only hope was to win over his gentle side.

Unbuckling your seat belt, you launched yourself at Axl by wrapping your arms around the side of his neck, and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Within an instant, you felt his jaw unclench, causing your lips to sink further into his smooth skin. Your eyes widened in surprise and were convinced you solved his problems. All he needed was a simple kiss to make his issues disappear!

However, within another beat of a second, Axl slammed on the breaks, swerving across the road, as the car shrieked to a halt. You clung onto him for dear life as you tried not to get catapulted out the windshield. Once he put the car in park, he peeled your arms away, grabbed you by the shoulders, and threw you over the backseat of the car. Landing on your back, the air was knocked from your lungs, and the next thing you saw was Axl climbing over the seats, pinning you down with his body.

“Wanna fuck with me, huh? You stupid bitch!” He taunted, slapping you across the face. “Fine. Then get fucked by me.” Forcing your body over, he hoisted your ass in the air, stripping your waist of your skirt and panties. You could feel his hardened erection, through the seam of his jeans, press into your butt.

Knowing he would ram into you without providing any saliva as lube, you tried scurrying away. But Axl used his hands to hold your hips in place. You weren’t prepared to experience this type of punishment. “Axl, wait-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He undid his leather belt, unzipped his pants, and freed his cock. Axl hovered over your backside, using both his thumb and index finger to pinch your clit. You jolted at the intense sensation.

“This is what you get for not listening to me,” he growled into your ear.

“I-I’m sorry-“

“Yeah? You should be.” Letting go of your clit and repositioning his hips against your ass, he sheathed his cock into your cunt, making you wince at the rawness. Axl held your upper body down, pushing your face into the leather seat, as he sucked on his middle finger to slide it up your ass.

You scrunched your face together and whined against the seat, muffling your cries. You hated anal penetration.

When you were a child, your parents gave you enemas to soften your stool, but that backfired, and resulted in you screaming at the top of your lungs while thrashing on the floor until it was over. From that day forward you always questioned how others found anal sex pleasurable. It made you cringe every time one of your friends talked about their own experiences.

But here you were, as an adult, laying face down, but instead of an enema, it was Axl’s finger. Luckily, his finger was slim so it didn’t hurt as much. However, if it was his cock, then it’d be crossing the line.

Axl slowly pumped his finger in and out of your hole, feeling the way your pussy clenched around his cock like a glove every time his finger slipped in and out. He managed to fill you up on both sides and remind you who was in charge.

Axl noted how quiet you became, minus the subtle whimpering, and tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “You gonna be a good girl?”

You nodded, not wanting your ass to feel invaded like this ever again.

“Are you lying?”

You immediately shook your head. “N-no!”

“You sure?” He licked his lips and pulled both his finger and cock out, making you feel empty.

“If you’re lying, babygirl…” Axl teased the tip of his cock near the rim of your butthole, pushing it in a little.

“No, stop!” Before he could continue and slide his dick in, you remembered your safe word - the one you used for bedroom activities. “Nightrain! Nightrain! Nightrain!”

Axl stopped, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What?”

“Nightrain. Please, Axl…don’t do this.” You were worried the safe word wouldn’t apply to punishments like this, but he was also overstepping your boundary, and you needed him to stop before it escalated any further. “I’ll be a good girl for you, okay? I promise.” You begged your heart out, hoping he could be convinced. “I’ll drop it and pretend nothing happened.”

Upon hearing those words, he leaned his face closer to yours while his warm breath tickled your ear, making you quiver. “Damn right nothing happened. If you don’t want my dick up your ass then do me a favor.”

You sniffled. “Anything.”

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You hesitated at the request but complied. You took off your blouse and unclasped your bra.

A small smirk formed across Axl’s lips. “Good girl. Now, step outside.”

Your heart began beating rapidly in your chest. You peered through the window and found no other cars occupying the road. You exhaled a sigh of relief and stepped out onto the asphalt, covering both breasts with your hands. The outside bore a sharp breeze, making your entire body shiver, and form goosebumps. If any passerby’s saw you, you were sure it would make your temperature rise.

Axl got out of the car, opened the trunk, and motioned you to come closer. You gulped and did so at your own pace, dragging our feet to postpone the forbidding dread that sank into your stomach.

“Get in,” he ordered.

“…Axl-“

He snapped his fingers. “Get in. Or do you want my cock up your ass?”

“Neither!”

He stepped forward, his face a few inches from yours. “You don’t have much of a choice. If I were you, I’d do it this way,” he advised.

You pouted. This wasn’t fair, it was embarrassing. Why couldn’t he just bend you over his knee, tan your ass with a spanking, and drive home like all his other punishments? Why was he trying something new? The bastard…

“How come?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s part of your punishment, baby.” He sensed your unease which made him feel a little guilty. He never meant to take things too far, but whenever he did, it seemed impossible to retrace his steps and start over from square one again. “Look, I know you’re scared, but don’t be. I ain’t gonna hurt you, or crash the car, or plunge it into a river.”

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. That made you feel a tiny bit better but you still held your doubts. You lied down in the trunk, curling into a ball to stave off the coldness.

Axl went into the car, retrieved his leather jacket from the front seat, and came back to drape it over your nude figure. “Better?”

“Yeah…”

“Count some sheep, honey. You’ll be out of there before you know it.” He closed the trunk and drove off.

You huddled yourself underneath his jacket while imagining a cloud of sheep jumping over your head. “One…two…three…” Not only did it help keep your mind occupied, but it also made you feel less claustrophobic.

The rattling of the car acted as white noise. Your body gently swayed left and right whenever Axl took a turn. He was careful not to turn the car too sharply because he knew your body could accidentally get bruised. He figured he crossed a line with you and regretted it. It was difficult to control his actions whenever his anger overpowered him. It’s like his body was on autopilot and he’s forced to watch, through a red lens, all the horrific things he’s doing to you until his rage dissipated. He wanted to make it up to you, and he knew the perfect way to do it while keeping you fooled that it was still a punishment.

Once you counted 200 sheep you felt the car come to a halt, hearing the front door open. Rock music was playing in the background while you heard distant chatter. Were you at a dive bar? In a parking lot somewhere? You couldn’t tell. Suddenly, you felt Axl - or at least you hoped it was him - get back in the car, shut the door, and drive away from whatever place you two stopped at. Another question rang through your mind…and it wouldn’t stop nagging at your conscious. What did Axl buy?

Minutes later, Axl opened up the trunk, revealing your figure before his lust-hungry eyes. You squinted, allowing your eyes to adjust to the natural glow of the sunset while noticing you weren’t at the house, parked in the driveway. Instead…you were at a vacant park. No parents or their children were around the playground area. It was empty. It almost looked abandoned. From a faint distance, you could see rust on the metal monkey bars. The place was definitely worn down by weather and everybody who touched it.

You looked at Axl as he sat down next to you, pulling away his leather jacket from your body. “It’s cold-“

“I know it’s cold, baby. Your punishment is almost over,” he reassured.

Rubbing you hands over your arms to create friction, you asked, “What else do I have to do?”

“Nothing. Just lay there and close your eyes.”

This made you suspicious. “You’re not gonna do anything, are you…?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he repeated. “I think you might enjoy it. Lay back and close your eyes for me.”

Since when were punishments supposed to be enjoyable? You decided not to waste anymore time, mostly because it was cold and you didn’t want to get frostbites, you laid down and closed your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praised.

You heard the rustling of plastic. Axl was taking something out of a plastic bag. Wherever he stopped the car at, he bought something to use on you, or against you. You hoped the latter wasn’t the case. Was it a vibrator? A whip? A paddle? A gag? You weren’t sure. But you were gonna find out.

Suddenly, without warning, you felt a cold trickle of liquid cascade across your chest, flowing over your breasts, and down your pubic bone. “What the-“ You opened your eyes and saw Axl pouring a bottle of champagne over you. “Axe! What are you doing?!”

“Keep your eyes closed!”

“I’m freezing!” You protested, closing your eyes again. This certainly wasn’t the type of punishment you had in mind.

“Aww, is the little girl cold?” Axl sneered, setting the bottle of champagne down on the grass. “Here. Let daddy help warm you up.”

You felt Axl hover above you, the same way he did in the car earlier, and latched his lips onto the mound of your breast, licking away the champagne. Upon feeling his heated breath on you, your eyes widened, causing your lips to release a surprised gasp.

He pulled away and placed his mouth on your other breast, cleaning away the alcoholic nectar. “Mmm~”

“Augh, Axe…” You moaned.

After releasing your other boob, he used his tongue to lick a trail down your body, tasting the sweet, bubbly champagne on your skin. He kept traveling down until he reached your pubic mound. Reaching for the champagne again, he tilted the bottle downward, allowing the liquid to hit your clit, similar to how a showerhead would.

Your breathing increased as you bucked your hips against the champagne stream, stimulating your clit. Axl noticed your eagerness and tilted the bottle upward, taking a quick swig for himself, before throwing the bottle on the grassy knoll. “This pussy’s gonna taste fantastic.”

“Mmff…it’s all yours, cowboy.”

“Damn right it’s all mine.” Setting your legs onto his shoulders, Axl inched closer to your cunt until you felt his hot breath waft over your swollen clit. He dove in, licking up and down your slit at a gradual pace, causing your eyes to roll back into your head.

“Fuuuuck…”

The sweetness of the champagne combined with your own slick juices created a perfect flavor that Axl couldn’t deny. He could drink it forever and get wasted on it. He suctioned his lips around your clit, sucking on the perked bud, making you squirm and squeal beneath him as his eyes bore into your twisted facial features.

Axl flicked his tongue over your clit, adding pressure on the sensitive gem to heighten your buildup while swirling his tongue clockwise, then counter clockwise, around it.

"Oh my god!" You shrieked, bucking your hips against his mouth which caused his nose to make contact with your clit. "I'm close, so close...."

Axl used his final seconds to remove his mouth from your clit and replace it with his thumb, stroking the nub effortlessly until you came undone.

You arched your back, screaming his name, and scraping your nails on the bed of the trunk while your toes curled from the orgasmic bliss.

Axl repositioned himself again to collect the stream of hot nectar that flowed from your cunt onto his sharp tongue, gulping away your cream.

Your body fell limp. A dark shade of crimson colored the palette of your flushed cheeks. You haven't came that hard in a long time. You sort of forgot it was even possible to experience such an orgasm...until Axl reminded you tonight.

Looking up at the sky, you saw stars, not from being dazed, but from space, as the small specks of white light shined down on the two of you. You were so entranced by the beauty of it, you forgot Axl was even sucking away your cum like a leech. You didn't feel him remove himself or anything. But you did hear a bottle break in the distance, and then you felt a glass shard cut into your inner thigh, breaking your focus from the night sky. "Ah! Fuck!"

After Axl saw the blood oozing out of the mark, he cleaned your fresh wound with his tongue, causing you to flinch at the sudden pain.

"What the hell was that for?!"

He grinned. "It's a reminder for you not to misbehave again."

You were baffled by his words. "Trust me. I won't misbehave ever again."

"In case you do, look into the mirror and remember this cut. Though, if it does slip your mind, I won't show you any mercy next time, capisce?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, daddy. But I'm confused. Was this my punishment...?"

Axl sighed, cupping the side of your face with the palm of his hand, and stroking your cheek, the same cheek he had slapped. "It was a reward for surviving your punishment in my trunk."

It dawned on you. Your punishment was either the trunk or having him ram his dick inside your ass unforgivingly. He allowed you to have a choice - unlike the previous punishments - and it appeared you made the right decision with this one. "Oh, charming."

He smiled and kissed your bruised cheek. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “C’mon. Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.” He carried you, bridal-style, to the passengers side and drove off into the night.

The safe word saved you. Hopefully it could save you again on another night?

Taglist:

Side-note: if anybody wants to be added on my taglist for certain eras/characters, let me know!

[undercvrfan444]

PROLOGUE

Warnings! stalking, AFAB, creep satoru behavior, knifes, drugging, kidnapping kinda, manipulation, 18+ mentioned, violence, Stockholm Syndrome, if there’s any more idk so go wild

An! This is kinda sloppy because I’m not sure how I want this to play out yet. I really hope you enjoy it though AND SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME!!

Based on this Drabble here !!!

“Thank you! Come again!” You smile sweetly as a mother and her daughter exit your bakery. The day had turned out to be utterly dreary with clouds covering any sunshine that would normally shine light through the large windows at the front of your store.

It was nearing the end of the day. The expansive displays of sweet treats and savory dishes were wiped clean from continuous orders. Normally you’d be ecstatic about the success of your small business, however, it was a bittersweet feeling seeing as you would have to stay late and prepare a big order for the next day.

Your feet hurt and were a little swollen from being on them all day. Despite you wanting to go home and lay down you knew a trip to the grocery store was needed before you could start baking tonight. It only took a few minutes for you to slip your raincoat on and grab an umbrella so you could leave.

The whole trip there and shopping was a blur. You had a mission and list so luckily it didn’t take long in the store for you to check out. The bad thing about the grocery store is they only offer brown paper bags! You had no idea how you’d carry the groceries blocks away to your store but maybe you could find a taxi to help you haul them?

Grabbing your bags, you tuck them under your arm and open your umbrella again. Rain patters lightly on the plastic material above you, the sound taking over your mind and letting reality slip away. In the midst of you being lost in imagination something catches your foot, knocking you off balance.

There’s nothing graceful about the way you fall, all elbows and hip straight into the concrete. A pained groan leaves your lips as you open your eyes, feeling something poking you in your side.

“M-Mr. Gojo!” A loud commotion behind you catches your attention. You jerk your head up and see the cause of your fall.

“Are you alright?”

The velvety smooth voice send shivers down your spine. His face is undoubtedly the most soothing sight you’ve ever seen, all muscle and clean masculinity. He had hair that was cut short in the back with beautifully cut white hair in the front, oh and his eyes. His eyes froze you in place with how snow-like they were. Everything about him screamed elegance and money, you weren’t poor but beside this man anyone would look humble.

He speaks again above you, brows furrowed and his hand coming to smooth over your head to check for damage. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

You suck in a breath when he prods at a particularly sensitive part of your forehead. “Ooow!! I’m so sorry sir! I didn’t see you..” You sit up after remembering you were in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Two big burly men stop beside the man and reach down to help him up but instead he waves them off.

His thumb swipes over your skin and he grimaces when looking down at the red color staining his skin. Not much but enough to make you queasy. “Oh now that isn’t good.” The man stands finally after feeling you move off his leg and extends a hand down towards you. In your shocked state it takes a second for you to register the large hand pulling you up.

Both your elbows burn from where they had met with the pavement and gotten scraped. Small rocks stuck to your sticky skin making you reach down to brush them away. The pain in your hip hasn’t registered quite yet but you know there’s going to be a nasty bruise lingering for a few weeks, it’s a wonder nothings broken.

“Don’t move too much, your head is bleeding sweetheart. You need to let a doctor look at it,” There was a slight pause between his sentences. “Would you mind if I had a private physician look at you? That way i’d at least know you’re taken care of and you won’t have to wait hours at some emergency clinic.” The man holds your jaw lightly in his fingers to get a better look at the wound.

“What’s your name baby?” He was incredibly gentle with you, more so than you had ever experienced from a man before and it caught you off guard for a moment.

You swallow thickly and attempt to regain your composure. “It’s, uhm Y/n. B-But there’s no need for the Ms. part. What’s your name?” The sight of your discarded groceries everywhere has you whimpering sadly at the wasted money and knowing you’d have to close shop tomorrow. “My groceries! I needed those for tonight, I…I need to go back in the store.”

A small laugh comes from beside you. “Y/n, unfortunately you’re hurt and i’m the one that’s responsible. I feel obligated to take you to a health professional, I’ll repay you whatever money you lost for the groceries but please allow me to see to your health. If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can call me Satoru. Now we aren’t strangers are we?”

You try to stand straight without leaning on Satoru and fail. Still hazy and confused from hitting your head it’s hard to think logically. “I guess we a-aren’t. Im very grateful for your kindness Satoru. I’m so sorry for running into you, I swear I’m normally not this clumsy.”

Satoru quietly calls for his bodyguards to clean up the side walk as he wraps an arm around your waist. Every step you take it’s like your leg is on fire from the bruise on your hip. It’s a whirlwind with how quick you’re swept into this strangers car and taken to a “private doctor.” Any other normal human being would have screamed at you and told you that this is how every true crime documentary starts! However, you just can’t get over the way this man seems to hypnotize you into following his words.

Satoru held a certain aura around him. He was like the quiet moments before a horrific storm, something boiled under the surface of his heaven-sent features. His shoulders always looked tight as if he was holding the weight of the world on them. From the material of the clothes he wore to the surely expensive and heady cologne he wore you weren’t entirely sure it was a good idea to go with him.

Upon Satoru opening your door for you it’s evident by the interior of his car he isn’t some ordinary business man. Come to think of it his car had windows so dark you’re not sure how anyone would see out of them. The beautiful leather seats wrap around your smaller body and warm you from where the rain soaked your clothes. Satoru slid in beside you and said something quietly to the driver up front. It felt like everything he did was very hushed in an attempt to keep you at ease.

“Uhm, S-Satoru? I’m sorry to ask this but…you’re not like a bad guy or anything are you? I’d like to know i’m not going to be kidnapped and sold off to some auction.” You smile weakly up at him and listen to his laugh fill the vehicle.

He looks out the window for a second before looking back at you. “I guess it just depends on your definition of bad.” A sudden wave of nausea hits you at his words. There’s a silent shift in the air that has goosebumps raising on the back of your neck. What did you get yourself into? Surely if he’s offering to take you to a doctor then he wouldn’t do anything bad to you right? Right?

The rest of the car ride is quiet until you pull up to a lavishly large house tucked away in a remote wooded area.

Satoru watched you from the side of his eye the entirety of the ride. He couldn’t help but think about what you’d look like if he stole you away from your civilian life and swept you into his. Blue would suit your features perfectly. Your lips moved along absentmindedly to whatever music was playing on the radio and it took everything in his body not to envision them wrapped around his cock.

Not until you stepped inside the house did you realize it sat overlooking the city. A cliff sitting nicely at the back part of the house that adds a certain grandness to the overall view. You get lost in the overwhelming change in scenery that you don’t hear Satoru behind you until he’s leaning down to put his head beside yours.

“What are you looking at sweetheart?” You jump at the sudden whisper and cringe, your head throbbing worse than before.

“The view is so beautiful. I love seeing the city from this view. It shows just how small we all are in the bigger picture.” Your response was sweet. Simple like a line from some sappy movie. Satoru ate it up. He loved how naive you were; so pure to the world’s nasty ways. How has no one corrupted that pretty little head of yours yet?

Just wait until Satoru got his hands on you. He would never let his sweet dove be exposed to the unjust nature of his enemies. And yet…That doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into his own world of sin along the way.

[chosaraki]

The Disaster.

—————————————————————————

Gitae kim x R.femele. ( Naive )

—————————————————————————

Afternoon it was quiet in Gitae Kim's house, an imposing mansion surrounded by well-kept gardens. Inside, the atmosphere was silent, but there was a touch of lightness in the air, something that contrasted with the intensity of Gitae's personality. He was sitting on a sofa, immersed in some important documents, while his wife, a charming woman with a naive personality, was in front of him trying to do something simple: prepare dinner.

She, with a mischievous smile on her face, was trying to cut some vegetables for a recipe she found on the internet. However, what should be something simple ended up becoming a small disaster. The knife slipped from his hand and the carrot pieces flew all over the kitchen.

- Oh no! - She exclaimed, her eyes wide in surprise as she tried to catch the pieces that were falling.

Gitae, with an eye on the situation, couldn't help but let out a contained sigh. He watched as she tried, with her typical innocence, to solve the small disaster. His gaze was impassive, but something soft in his expression showed that he was not really angry. He knew his wife well, he knew she was clumsy, but his naive charm made everything seem... adorable.

She, with her hands busy trying to gather the carrot pieces from the floor, didn't realize that a piece of the onion was about to fall on the floor too. Gitae got up slowly, his posture calm, and before the piece fell, he used his skill to catch it in the air with an almost imperceptible movement.

- Maybe we should order food today. - He said, with a soft tone, but with that enigmatic smile.

She looked up, surprised and a little embarrassed.

- I can do it, Gitae, I know I can! - She replied, trying to show confidence, although the nerves were already starting to take over her.

Gitae couldn't help but laugh softly, the softness in her tone breaking the stiffness of her normally ruthless personality.

- I know you can, but... - He took a step forward, placing a hand gently on yours, who still held the knife, - I think you're trying too hard today. Let's do something simpler.

She looked at him with her big, bright eyes, trying to understand where he wanted to go. His behavior, no more innocent, always had a calming effect on Gitae. He knew that his wife, despite being clumsy and often naive, brought a light energy to his life in ways he didn't know he needed.

- I promise that, next time, I'll do everything right. - She smiled shyly, almost waiting for an approval.

He watched her for a moment, the intensity of her eyes softening. He could not deny the feeling of calm that she brought to her world, a perfect contrast to her more severe nature.

- I'm not complaining. - He replied in a soft tone, running his hand through her hair affectionately. - I just don't want you to hurt yourself trying to please.

She belushed with his words, feeling comfortable and protected by the way he took care of her. For Gitae, it didn't matter how awkward she was; he loved her in the most genuine way possible, even if her actions didn't always follow the rules of perfection.

With a shy smile, she got up and hugged him tightly, making Gitae smile discreetly, but sincerely.

- I'll get better, I promise! - She said, in a cheerful tone, already forgetting the little disaster in the kitchen.

Gitae, with her calmer and controlling nature, ran her hand down her back and looked at her with a gently affectionate look.

- Don't worry, you're perfect the way you are. And if you make a mess again, I'll teach you how to do it right. But, until then... - He gave a subtle smile, - let's order food and enjoy the night together.

She smiled and nodded, feeling relieved. The day had been more than just culinary disasters - it had been a reminder of how much, even being naive and disturbed, she brought balance and softness to Gitae's life.

And so, with a smile and a new commitment to "improve", she nestled next to him on the couch, ready to relax and enjoy the night with the man who always loved her, no matter what happened.

—————————————————————————

Gitae, with a gentle smile, reassures her, showing that, despite her ruthless personality, he loves her and values her the way she is. The scenario reveals the most affectionate and protective side of Gitae, balanced with the charm and innocence of his wife.

—————————————————————————

[semiweirdshipper]

Hello! 💖

For the Wesker ask, how do you think he would reaction to a situation similar to 'When a Survivor Bullies'? Perhaps at first he sees little things happening during trials or simply overhears survivors talking about said things, and then he sees them happen firsthand during a trial with Reader.

This was a beautiful ask, my lovely @jossambird. Thank you ❤️

I've actually daydreamed about this scenario, Wesker meeting 'When a Survivor Bullies' reader.

Alright. *Politely asks Herman to step aside. Grabs Albert by the face* Let's go, prince blondy, you're up.

Warnings: Blood and Violence.

...

Wesker hasn't been in the Entity's realm very long, but that doesn't stop him from picking up on things. There are other killers here as well, though he has no interest in contact with them. Friendship wasn't his style, and he didn't care for sensitive relationships. However, he does pick up on recurring conversations the other killers have- something about a new survivor facing traumatic bullying during trials.

At first, Wesker had no interest in the matter. Yeah, he was curious about why and how you were being bullied, but it really wasn't his business. Besides, the killer leaders already seemed to be wrecking their brains with ideas to try and help you. There was nothing Wesker needed to do.

Around a week passed.

During a trial, Wesker finally got to witness the horrific display of the other survivors grotesque behavior towards you.

He had been patrolling the area, wondering where all the survivors were when he heard a scream from the other side of the realm. Instantly, he had a sinking feeling in his gut. His mind sprang with guesses and theories about what could be happening, and he followed the sounds of wails, whimpers and screams.

Wesker soon came across a scene that had his mind turning to overdrive.

You were impaled by shrapnel that penetrated in through your back and out of your lower stomach. Stuck laying against a metal junk pile, you struggle to breathe and keep conscious. Blood oozed from your sealed wound, covering your entire front side.

You could barely look at him, your arms attempting pathetically to push you off the shrapnel, but you were stuck. You couldn't breathe very well, much less talk or whimper. The pain was indescribable. You were scared and hurt and you didn't know what to do. The killer was here now.

So, this is what the survivors did to you during trials? Why? What did they have against you? Why purposely lose manpower and increase the chances of dying during a trial? Why go through such great lengths to hurt you? You were practically brand new. You needed education, not... This.

Wesker never stopped walking towards you during his mental analysis, his glowing eyes hidden by his sunglasses. You were wearing a scarf around your neck, the bottom of your face covered in old, deep scars. He wondered what your story was. As he took out his knife, he began to speed up his pace.

Abnormal wounds don't heal during trials. Even if he managed to pull you off the shrapnel, it wouldn't do you any good- only cause more pain and a slow death. He might as well have mercy for both your sakes.

Coming to a stop in front of you, Wesker kneeled down, peering into your squinted eyes.

You winced, your mouth uttering a weak whine before resuming it's awful struggle for air. You were shaking slightly, blood dripping down your chin as you clutched the shrapnel bulging through your stomach. When you saw his knife, you squinted your eyes all the way shut, bowed your head and looked away.

Your reaction was all the information Wesker needed to make a decision.

Grabbing you, Wesker quickly shoved his knife into a spot in your body that would kill you immediately. He wasn't that cruel. He wouldn't make you suffer. You went limp in his arms, your breathing stopped and your limbs still. He stepped away from you, his knife covered in your blood as he stared at you for a minute.

He had a lot of work to do this trial.

The decision Wesker made was to find a way to stop the bullying once and for all. One, it wasn't necessary for trials and caused an imbalance of power. Two, it was unnecessary in general; typical human cruelty. And everyone wonders why he wants to save the world... And three, he was getting tired of seeing the other killers struggle with getting your attention. Honestly, did he have to do everything around here?

After obtaining information from the others, Wesker did not hesitate to make his way to the survivor camp grounds. There, he located each of your primary bullies and used uroboros to threaten each one of them. If they didn't stop bullying you, then there would be extreme consequences, and he would never cease to make them suffer endless torture. He would not have any of their bullshit. He was done.

If they touched you again, they were all dead.

Some odd amount of days passed. It seemed like the bullying had stopped if the ever relaxed Evan and Herman wasn't enough to go by. Everyone seemed relatively calmer and the stories about your bullying had eventually stopped being discussed. Everything was fine.

While he was isolated within his own realm, a series of gentle knocks on the gate lured him away from the library.

Wesker walked to the gate, ready to threaten whoever dared bother him until he saw your frightened, timid figure standing there. Oh. "Miss (y/n)," He stated, baring his teeth in a display of impatience.

You stood your ground though, your body trembling lightly. "I... I saw- I mean, I-I came here because I saw what you- what you did for me, and," You struggled to find proper words, "And I wanted to thank you."

"It was a mere convenience that someone intervene," Wesker explained, brushing it off, "I was simply doing what would benefit us both. That is all."

You were silent for a moment. Wesker almost thought about closing the gate until he saw you lower down onto your knees. Tears visibly glistened against your pale cheeks. You were shaking, your voice a grateful murmur.

"Still... Thank you. Thank you so much. You-huh... You don't know how much you helped me, I... I don't know how I-just... You saved my life. Thank you."

Wesker isn't used to human gratitude. In fact, he hadn't been expecting to hear from you at all, but it was kind of nice to see that you were capable of showing gratitude and appreciation. He really should just leave it at that, part ways with you and never speak to you again, but for some reason he found himself hesitating.

In the Entity's realm, Wesker had no way to fulfill his goals. He was constantly stuck in his own realm, alone and isolated, no one to talk to. Every day was the same story. Was it really so bad to desire some form of communication every once and a while?

Wesker was also ignoring the fact that he only felt this way towards you. Anyone else here could burn for all he cared, but you were different. He didn't want to use logic to try and explain himself right now. He just wanted to let his mouth do it's own thing, ask it's own questions.

"Are they treating you well?" He asked.

On the ground, you hesitated, one hand wiping at your messy face, "Better now, yes. Thank you."

Wesker had a hunch that you were lying, but he decided it was best not to probe too fast right now. "Do I stand correct when I say that you won't miss them if I were to invite you in for a while?" He asked, gesturing to the innards of the police station.

Gasping a bit, you looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. Timid, uncertain and scared, you slowly shake your head, "Yes."

"Good," Wesker said, "Come inside."

And that is how the relationship started.

...

Of course there's so much more plot I could write, but this is the general gist. I think using the Bully reader was a great idea. I might make a part two where he gives the reader more in depth emotional support, and broaden their relationship. All in all, it was pretty enjoyable!

Thank you so much for the ask!

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 89.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

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[written chapter]

the sound of the intercom came on and serim, who was in the kitchen preparing her dinner, turned her head to look at the screen to see who was downstairs. she found the image of karina, distracted, not even looking at the camera, just waiting for it to open. she walked over, hung up the phone so the noise would stop and then pressed the button that unlocked the door. she paid no more attention to it and went back to what she was preparing at the bar.

the door opened, letting in a jimin who looked lost, dazed. she closed it behind her, pushing it shut with her body, her back resting against the wood. her gaze wandered around the room, bland, with nothing in those eyes. she stood there in silence while the owner of the place checked her out of the corner of her eye, disoriented, and then went back to her task.

"did something happen?" asked serim after realizing she wouldn't move from there, without taking her attention away from the meal she was making.

"yes." the word came out almost in a whisper, on the verge of being inaudible, the tone almost as somber as her entire act.

jang raised her head quickly, alerted by the response, she kept her calm without moving, but now she was interested in understanding where the newcomer's behavior was coming from. she frowned wordlessly, waiting for further development. jimin turned her head, fixing her eyes on serim who returned the contact, perturbed. as soon as they met, the younger girl's expression changed to one of helplessness, sadness.

"jongin cheated on me." she admitted, the volume of her voice as low as the one she had used before.

the elder could hear the sentence clearly, processed the words and thought of something to say, but could only find adequate a dry chuckle. "i told you so." she returned her gaze to the vegetables she was chopping.

"really?" she detached her head away from the material she was leaning against, turning her face to pure disbelief. "that's all you'll say?" she raised her voice, vexed.

"i have nothing more to say." she denied. "i told you so." she shrugged. "didn't i?"

"yes, you did." she assured. "but is that really all that matters to you now?" she broke away from the door and walked over to where the woman stood.

"it's not the only thing that matters to me." she held up the board with vegetables. "i just don't have anything else to say." with the help of the knife she pushed what she had just cut causing it to fall into the pot that was not yet lit.

"i came here expecting you to comfort me." she put her body in front of serim as she was returning to the place where she was cooking, blocking her way.

"forgive me if it doesn't bloom in me to comfort you when you've been toying with my emotions for almost two weeks." she set the board and knife down on the table, then faced her.

"i explained to you why i'm doing it." the wistful hint returned to her. "you know i don't want to, but i can't do anything else."

"then i can't do anything else for you now either." she returned, looking straight into her brown orbs, so close to each other that there was almost no space in between. "you should have gone with ryujin." she opined.

jimin dropped her head, now her gaze on the ground, she didn't know how to continue that conversation, maybe serim was right and she had been wrong to go there. the latter took her slumped position as a sign that there was nothing more to discuss and intended to go around her to continue what she was doing before she arrived, but as soon as she wanted to take a step, yu's hand rested on the side of her body, stopping her, bringing her back to where she was.

"can you at least hug me?" she asked, vulnerable, defeated, her voice fighting to get out of her throat.

serim was angry with her, of course she was, she knew she didn't deserve how she had been being treated by the girl, but not even all the turmoil of thoughts she had been having during those weeks when the contrary had been avoiding her could cease the longing and despair that seeing her in that state generated within. no matter how much she wanted to or tried, she couldn't allow herself to know she was suffering and not help to stop it.

so she raised her arms and taking advantage of the closeness between them, she easily wrapped her between these, one encircling her torso, with her open hand resting flat on her lower back and the other on the back of her head, running her fingers through her hair as a sign that she was there for her. jimin's arms were trapped between their bodies so she took serim's shirt between her fingers, making sure she was holding her close in some way.

"please, take care of me." the blackhaired requested with fragility exposing in the way she spoke.

hearing her plea, the oldest moved back her head which was resting against the opposite's, creating space for her to catch a glimpse of jimin's face, noticing the tears in her eyes. she brought her touch from the back of her neck to her cheek, running her thumb over karina's porcelain skin, caressing it, then sliding it to where the teardrops were and wiping them away carefully. as soon as serim removed her hand and let it drop to the side of her waist, they both looked at each other without saying a word.

there was a lot to say, but that wasn't what mattered at the moment, it wasn't what summoned them there.

karina leaned in quickly, without serim noticing her movements, and left a peck on her lips, a brush, nothing more than that, to wait after for how the girl would react. she hadn't been able to hold it back, she no longer knew how to keep control around the woman and had completely forgotten how she did it before. she only wanted serim's affection, especially when emotions got the better of her.

serim sighed, taking a moment to decide if she should pull away, looking at karina's lips, then into her eyes, her fingers still on her back playing with the shirt she was wearing, a product of anxiety. but she couldn't deny to herself what the girl made her feel either, so she threw her body over the other, kissing her restlessly, turbulently. tasting her mouth hungrily as if she'd never done it before.

when karina spoke of comfort, this was exactly the comfort she was referring to.

jang exerted pressure on the youngest's body, guiding her through the kitchen, eventually leaning her against the counter where she was cooking before. without interrupting the session, she stretched out her arm and tried to move things that might be a nuisance on the counter, then put both hands on the younger's waist, grabbing her securely and lifting her to help her sit on the marble, then positioned herself between her legs.

[lanaroff]

Unwanted- Part 4

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/N is an enhanced SHIELD agent who is forced to work with the Avengers. What happens when they discover that she’s not alone?

A/N: Two in a row! Enjoy.- Lana

After a long conversation with Natasha, you came to terms with the fact that sooner or later you would end up having to talk to the team. You didn't trust them, and they didn't trust you either. And as long as you wanted to bring Hydra down, you needed to play by the rules. Even If it meant telling the team personal information about yourself.

However that was not the only thing in your mind. Another redhead was keeping your mind busy. You hadn't seen Wanda since you left her in the medical area. You had no idea of her status or if she even wanted to see you. But you decided that you should find it out for yourself.

And so you did. While waking the compound halls you thought of the reason behind your actions. Why did you suddenly cared for someone's health? If it came to Natasha, would you check on her? But before you could turn back you were standing next to Wanda's bedroom door. You knocked tree times, cursing yourself for doing so, but waiting for Wanda to open the door.

"Come in" You heard from inside the room, and immediately pushed the door and walked inside.

"Uhm... I wanted to check on you. How is your leg?" You nervously said. Truth was that you had spend so much time hating any kind of human interaction, that you had become unable to talk about anything that did not included killing someone.

"Y/N! Hi." Wanda quickly replied as she sat properly on her bed. "The leg is fine, thanks for asking. It doesn't hurt that much."

"Great... That's good, I guess." You said. It was clear to Wanda that the girl in front of her was struggling to keep te conversation floating. It was hilarious and a little bit adorable, she thought to herself.

To Wanda, all that you were doing was trying to pretend that you were tough by being cold and distant. When in reality you were another lost soul who had no one and was scared to be vulnerable. And Wanda felt a sense of familiarity in your behavior.

"I should probably get going, it's late and you need to rest. Good night Wanda." You continued.

"Yeah... Good night Y/N." The redhead replied and watched as you abandoned the room.

After leaving the girl's room, you walked through the compound's floors. You had no destination, but you enjoyed the walk anyways. The compound was empty, the avengers either were sleeping or in their own rooms. No one was there to ask questions or to annoy you in any way. Being all day inside your room was not healthy, and you definitely needed a change of scenery.

It wasn't until you found yourself in the kitchen, that you realized that you hadn't eaten in all day. And the alien was well aware of that, so you opened the fridge looking for something to cook. While taking some vegetables to put them in the countertop, you heard a deep voice. Immediately your body was submerged under the creatures skin.

"Easy Y/N. I'm not a threat." You heard a male voice. Steve came out of the shadows and showed himself to you. After calming yourself and taking a deep breath, you returned to your normal self. You were definitely not usted to living with others.

"I could've killed you, old man." You said as you took a knife to star chopping the items you had placed earlier.

"Can't sleep?" Steve asked, before taking a sit next to the countertop.

"Never can. And you? What is keeping American's hero awake?"

Steve took a deep breath before talking. His mind was thinking about many things, and he couldn't shake it off. "You know, the usual, missions and training."

"Speaking of, uhm we have an upcoming mission in a couple of days." Steve continued.

You looked at him and nodded. You hated small talks, that's why you always tried to avoid talking to anyone, unless is was extremely necessary. "Great"

"You know, you should talk to Tony. He may be a little bit arrogant, but he can be a great friend."

"And why would I do that Rogers?" You replied.

"Because If you don't then I can't send you on missions. You need to learn how to work as a team. I'm not asking you to be friends with them, just talk to Tony and the team." Steve finished. And before you could say anything he was already excusing himself.

As the captain of the team, Steve thought that you needed to let people in. Otherwise all the 'not trusting one another' would end up having someone killed by a simple mistake. And tho your intentions were good, your methods were no the most suitable.

When you finished eating the meal that you had prepared for yourself, you went upstairs to rest. However, your mind was running a million miles away, and you could stop thinking about your conversation with Steve. After hours of walking from the bed to your desk, you came to the conclusion that you didn't had to be open about your feelings or any shit like that, you just need to be "friendly". And god, you already hated yourself for having to do such thing.

You woke up and, unlike the other mornings, you actually went to have breakfast with the team. Once you put foot on the kitchen all the eyes were turned to you.

"Good morning, nice for you to join us" Steve greet you with a pat on your shoulder.

"Yeah..." You said, unsure that you had made the right decision. After your small interaction with Steve, you walked to the countertop, took a plate and put some waffles on it. After that, you sat next to Natasha. At least having her closed brought you a little bit of comfort.

While you were finishing breakfast as quick as you could, you heard Wanda enter the room greeting everyone. However, she wasn't entering alone, and a kid that didn't looked older than 16, was walking side by side with her.

Wanda went into the kitchen a pour herself a cup of tea before she sat herself across from you and Natasha. Wanda found shocking the fact that you were actually having breakfast on the common area. However, your moment of peace and quiet was interrupted by a really chatty kid that was more than eager to talk to you. But before anyone could stop him, he was already with his mouth open.

"Are you the new member? The one that has an alien inside of her?" He asked. Tony and Steve looked at each other fearing for the kid's life. Everyone looked at you waiting for you to say something.

The kid's question took you by surprise. You were not expecting someone as eager to talk as him to interact with you. Less to be asked about the creature that lived inside of your body. However, before you could reply you felt Venom's willingness to make itself present.

"We are Venom" Said the creature as it slowly started to appeared behind you.

"Cool..." Was everything that came from the kid's mouth. You could actually see that he was curious about his encounter with the alien. "My name is Peter Parker, but everyone calls me Spider-Man"

"No. Nobody calls you that" Sam said entering the room. Leaving a very frustrated Peter

Wanda's eyes were worryingly looking at you, she didn't feared that you would hurt him, but she didn't want you to feel overwhelmed by Peter's questions. However before you could respond you were cut by Steve.

"Wanda... How are you feeling? How's the leg?" He asked. And immediately your eyes were glued on her face, actually wanting to know how she was doing.

"Fine, it hurts a little bit. But Bruce told me that I can walk. So that's better." She replied, and noticed how a small smile of relief escaped your lips.

The room fell into small conversations between the different Avengers, each of them talking about different topics with one another. And before they even noticed, you were already walking to the kitchen, placing you plate into the sink, and reaching the hallway.

However, before you could leave the room, you were stoped by someone calling for you.

"Y/N wait up!"

Hearing Steve's voice, you turned around to find the blond man reaching the kitchen door. You raised your eyebrows indicating him ti star talking.

"Hill mentioned that you have intel about Hydra ex members and their possibles locations." Said the captain. Upon hearing 

Steve's tone you knew exactly where the conversation was going.

"What about that?" You asked frowning your eyes.

"Why don't you bring them here so we can have a look at those files?" He finally asked. Even though you maintained your best poker face, your eyes betrayed you. To Steve it was cleared that you were having an internal fight. You could work with them using the only peace of information that you had, but you didn't trust them, at least not yet. "As a team."

Your eyes darted from Steve to Wanda, who was still sitting on the kitchen table. Her giggle echoing the thin walls as she laughed about Peter being teased by Bucky and Sam. Maybe Natasha was right and you had to trust them, maybe trusting them meant that you could bring Hydra down quickly. Maybe, just maybe, they were not that bad as you thought. Maybe there it was your second chance.

"They are at my apartment, I guess I can bring them to the compound" You replied reviving a smile from Steve. 

"Thank you" Said the blond. Replaying with a nod you begin to walk back to your room. However you were stopped by the captain's voice again. "Oh before you go, could you give Peter a lift, he's late for school"

"Absolutely not" You said without looking back.

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, kidnapping/abduction, obsessive behaviors, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: The 141 team’s fear hardens into fierce determination. The team splits up, scouring the city with relentless focus, driven by a shared promise to bring you back. The hunt is on, and this time, they’re not leaving without you.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9 Read Part 10

Part 5: The Rescue Mission

The atmosphere in the 141’s HQ had shifted—what had started as worry had now solidified into something colder, sharper. Determination hummed in the air, electrifying the space where minutes earlier, dread had pooled in the silence. Ghost stood at the center of it, his masked face tilted down toward the sketches spread out on the table in front of him. The faint glow of the overhead light caught the edges of the rough lines, casting shadows across the grainy paper.

The sketches were crude, but they didn’t need to be perfect. They were enough. Enough to set Ghost’s mind racing back to the bar, to that night—those fleeting glimpses of a figure slipping in and out of the crowd like a phantom. He remembered the man now. The way he lurked on the fringes, his eyes always flickering in your direction, as if waiting for the right moment to strike. And Ghost had dismissed it, chalking it up to the usual riffraff that crowded the place. But now, seeing those sketches, the face twisted in his memory like a knife.

“This is him,” Ghost said, his voice low, gravelly with the weight of what they’d discovered. He jabbed a finger down at the sketch, his eyes narrowing. “I remember seeing him at the bar. He was always there when they were. Watching.”

The room tensed further as the others leaned in. Soap, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped, eyes flicking from the sketch to Ghost. “That bastard’s got to be on the streets somewhere. We can’t sit here, letting him slip through our fingers.”

Ghost nodded. The urgency was palpable. You were out there somewhere, alone, in the hands of a man whose face had been nothing more than a shadow in the background until now. He wouldn’t let that mistake happen again. “We need to hit the streets. We can’t ignore this. Not anymore.”

Soap didn’t need to be told twice. “Right then, let’s move.” His usual humor was absent, replaced by a hardened focus. This wasn’t just a mission—it was personal now. You were one of their own, civilian or not, and every second wasted was a second too long.

Gaz was already slipping on his jacket, his movements quick, efficient. His eyes met Ghost’s with an unspoken agreement: they weren’t coming back empty-handed. Price, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a small nod, already coordinating their moves in his head. He wasn’t the type to rush into action blindly, but there was a steel in his gaze that said he was ready to burn the city down if it meant getting you back.

“Soap, you and Gaz take the east side. I’ll cover the west,” Price said, pushing off the wall. “We’ll meet back here in four hours with whatever we’ve got. Ghost, you keep your eyes on the comms. Anything pops up, we need to know immediately.”

Ghost didn’t argue. Someone needed to keep the operation under control, and there was no one better suited than him. His eyes scanned the maps pinned to the walls, marking potential hotspots where the abductor might hide, places where people went unnoticed. “I’ll stay in touch with the local contacts. We’re not leaving any stone unturned.”

As the team filed out, the weight of the mission pressed down on them. The night outside was heavy with fog, the city lights blurring in the distance. Soap and Gaz moved swiftly, their boots barely making a sound as they hit the streets. Every corner, every alley, every face in the crowd became a potential lead. Gaz’s sharp eyes swept the surroundings, taking in the smallest details, while Soap’s mind churned with thoughts of you, alone and in danger.

Their world, once filled with drinks and shared laughs, now felt eerily quiet. The streets that had once been familiar now felt hostile, as if the city itself was conspiring to keep you hidden. Soap's knuckles tightened around the grip of his weapon, his jaw clenched. “We’ll find ‘em,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “We’ve got to.”

Meanwhile, Price moved with calculated precision through his section of the city. His years of experience sharpened his instincts as he navigated the urban sprawl. He kept his focus on the task, but in the back of his mind, reality gnawed at him: time was running out. You could be anywhere, and the man who took you—this Devon—wasn’t going to make it easy.

Back at HQ, Ghost sat alone, the hum of the comms the only sound in the room. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the table as he monitored the team's progress, his eyes never straying from the maps or the live updates from local informants. Every piece of intel mattered now, no matter how small. He couldn’t shake the image of your captor’s face from his mind, couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d seen him before and done nothing.

But guilt wouldn’t help now. Only action would.

The search was relentless. Soap and Gaz questioned everyone they came across—bartenders, street vendors, anyone who might’ve seen something. Their descriptions were vague, but the sketch of the man with sunken eyes and a dark coat was enough to turn heads. People remembered a guy like that, especially the way he moved in and out of the crowd like a predator.

Hours passed in a blur of frustration and dead ends, but none of them wavered. The team was driven by something far deeper than duty now—an unspoken promise that they wouldn’t leave you behind. Not this time.

And as Ghost sat in the dimly lit HQ, staring down at the map in front of him, a message flickered across the screen. A contact from a nearby neighborhood. A sighting. A lead. His hand moved fast, fingers tapping out commands to alert the team.

The hunt was on. And this time, they were getting you back.

Read Part 6

Coming soon in Part 6, the team stalks through the shadows, closing in on a man whose twisted obsession had gone too far. This was no ordinary rescue. The hunter would become the hunted, and justice would be delivered, swift and unforgiving.

We're halfway through the adventure! Will the team find you in time?

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