#Another Man Who was Wounded in Hatred

[ganondoodle]

i have grown kinda tired of all the studio ghibli and totk comparisons bc i love most of miyazakis movies and its so annoyingly obvious that if totk actually took inspiration from them its all just the surface level aesthetic and none of the good story telling

[roanofarcc]

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing. scott miller (twisters) x fem!reader

summary. what happened between you and scott was supposed to be strictly casual, but when you feelings got too involved, you decided to call it quits. But storms and close calls have a way to bringing out true feelings. 

warnings. allusions to smut but no actual smut, suggestive language, a curse or two, injuries, reader gets hurt, medical descriptions. scott is a little bit of an asshole & a sweetheart (he’s complicated, okay?). idk how I feel about this but I’ve been writing it for what felt like forever & I needed to post it so it stops haunting me.

word count. 3.9k || masterlist

Feelings were messy; they always got in the way of things. You weren’t sure when yours changed or why, but they surely were leading you quickly toward disaster. It was supposed to be a casual thing, a no-strings-attached kind of thing. ‘Sleeping with the enemy’ wasn’t supposed to be anything more than meaningless sex in shitty motels after both of your storm-chasing teams went to sleep. And maybe that was a bit dramatic, but the Wranglers had a flare for dramatics and a hatred for Storm Par. You were caught in the mess you made, unsure of what to do. 

Scott was not the kind of man who wanted a serious relationship. He had a bad attitude and was one-track-minded. But he was just as lonely as you were, and that had quickly become a recipe for a delicious disaster. You two found yourself entangled in a strictly sex-only relationship, unknown to your two teams, enjoyed in the sanctity of midwestern motels. And for a while, the thrill of something so casual with no real stakes was exciting. 

You’d only ever had real relationships, partners you took home to meet your parents, and who bought you dinner. Scott was new territory. He was an asshole, but there was a certain charm that kept you coming back when he called you beautiful while fumbling for the zipper of your jeans or pressing soft kisses to your neck. 

Things between you two were good, but at some point, you couldn’t separate sex from feelings. It started to mean something to you. You tried to ignore it, burying it down deep in your gut, but that only worked for so long. 

Scott never stayed long; he didn’t want anyone to catch him sneaking out of your room. But you hardly ever got the chance to catch your breath before he was searching for his clothes strewn across the floor. You rolled your lips into your mouth, chest still rising and falling heavily, and grabbed your t-shirt from where it had been tossed onto the nightstand. 

“Are you guys following the storms up to Arkansas tomorrow?” he asked, falling back into himself the same way he always did. It was like the moment he stood from the bed, he snapped back into himself, stiff and work focused. 

He was a hard man to understand. You supposed you weren’t really supposed to understand him, that was the nature of your relationship. The less you knew about someone, the easier it was to not care. But you cared too much about everything and everyone. 

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, toying the itchy motel blanket between your fingers. Anxiety twisted in your gut like a storm, bringing unruly waves that flooded your chest and made it tight. “Scott?” 

He hummed in response, tugging on his shoes, not looking at you. It was a band-aid you needed to rip off, but you knew the nasty wound underneath it. You were scoffing it; you couldn’t keep it up. 

“I, um, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” You held your breath after the words fell from your lips. You didn’t want to say it; you didn’t want to mean it, but if you spent another evening with Scott you’d be done for. Feelings for him ached inside your chest, but you had to snuff them out before they grew any more intense and left you heartbroken in the wake. Being heartbroken for someone who didn’t care much for you beyond sleeping together sounded like a nightmare. You wanted to get ahead of it; no hard feelings. 

He paused, standing up right as he put on his second shoe and furrowed his brows. “Do what?” he said, confused. 

You winced. “This,” you said, pointing between the two of you. “Us.” 

“Why?” Scott lingered by the door, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t a man of many words, curt and to the point you had learned. 

You sighed, casting your gaze onto your lap. You felt small and a little embarrassed that you couldn’t separate sex from feelings. Scott seemed to do it so easily, but they were too intertwined for you. “What we have is good,” you started. “But I think I need something more…real, I guess.” 

“This isn’t real enough for you?” he asked with a raise of his brows. 

“You don’t want a relationship, right?” 

“Right,” he answered, quickly. 

“But I do.” 

Scott was quiet for a moment, his face swarming with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint before they vanished and fell back into his usual, stoic expression. “With me?” 

You smiled sadly, shaking your head even though it felt wrong, even though you were lying, a little. You knew the idea of you and Scott in a real relationship was purely fictional, completely intangible. You were probably the last person on Earth he’d want to date if he ever found himself able to look past his work. But you were soft-hearted and couldn’t help but think about it, even if it was ridiculous. 

“If we keep this up, maybe,” you tried to joke but it fell flat. “But no, I just meant in general. I don’t think I’m really cut out for this.” 

He pursed his lips, looking for a moment like he wanted to say something but decided against it and, instead, nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.” Scott turned and grabbed the door handle, hesitating before he opened it. You tried to say goodbye, but he slipped out quickly, leaving the words lost in the quietness of your motel room. 

You sighed, falling back against your pillow and bringing your hands up to your face in frustration. You knew you had done the right thing, and it would have hurt even worse if you waited, but it still sucked. You weren’t cut out for casual. 

“Why are you so mopey?” Kate asked, sliding onto the bar stool beside you at the little dinner. You volunteered to grab everyone dinner while they worked on the truck before tomorrow’s storms. Kate followed you, picking up on the sulky attitude you had been trying to hide all day. 

You sighed, tapping the countertop and avoiding her eyes. “It’s nothin’,” you said, trying to add a hint of cheeriness to your tone but it fell flat. 

“If I tell you something, you promise not to get mad at me?” Confused, you glanced over at her. Kate was too sweet for anyone to be mad at her, you were sure of that. Besides, if anyone got mad at Kate, you were sure Tyler would wreak havoc. “Last night, I left my room to grab my phone charger from the truck and I kind of saw…” she looked over her shoulder at the diner’s company before lowering her voice into a whisper. “Scott leaving your room. That’s not why you’re mopey, is it?” 

Your groan answered her. “No one was supposed to find out.” 

She frowned. “I won’t tell, promise.” 

“It doesn’t really matter anymore, I guess.” You shouldn’t have been sad; you were the one who called it off, but it left a little crater in your chest, a stupid feeling. Scott wasn’t someone you brought home to your parents or who would buy you flowers out of the blue. He was a one-night stand kind of guy; he made snarky comments and called you and your team hillbillies. You should have felt good about your decision, but you just couldn’t. 

“We’re not seeing each other anymore,” you said. 

“Why? Did he do something stupid? Because I’ll kick his ass.” 

You smiled at her offer, tempted to take her up on it for your own sake, but it was unreasonable. “I called it off.” 

“Oh,” she said, patting you gently on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t know why I’m upset about it.” You wished you could just cross it out of your head, said and done, and wipe your hands clean of it. He was just a guy, but he was stuck on you. “We were just sleeping together; that was it. But…but I’m pathetic.” 

Kate shook her head. “You’re not pathetic; don’t talk like that. Do you…like him?” She nearly winced when she said it, like it was a painful idea even for her to swallow. Scott wasn’t some supervillain, but he was a sore spot for her best friend, Javi. The two had started Storm Par together until their butting heads finally cracked. Javi left Storm Par and joined the Wranglers along with Kate, and Scott had to pivot to fill the gap Javi left. 

“I was starting too, that’s why I called it off.” 

Kate hummed in understanding just as the waitress placed your bags of food on the counter. She helped you gather the takeout with a smile and said, “Well, we’ll just have to find you someone new. Tyler wanted to take everyone out to this bar he and team always stop at during the season. Between all of us, we’ll find you someone even better than Mr. Storm Par.” 

That didn’t sound so bad. 

Oh, but it was. You’re not sure what happened, but it seemed like every decent, single person was taken or nowhere near Arkansas. Instead, the bar was filled with couples, oddballs, and creeps. You sipped on your drink and sank down in the booth, feeling defeated. 

Kate joined you with a huff. “Sorry this turned out to be a total failure,” she said. “I don’t know what happened to all of the hot, decent, single people.” From across the booth, Tyler made a noise as he swallowed his beer and put his hands out in an ‘excuse me?’ manner. Kate smiled and shook her head. “For her,” she said, pointing to you. 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “Ah, I didn’t know you were looking.” 

You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, a new endeavor.” Because you’d been so preoccupied with sleeping with Scott for the last couple of months, you hadn’t even thought about seeking someone else out, a real relationship. To your friends, you were simply content in your singleness, but that wasn’t the truth whatsoever. 

“Well, I don’t think you’re gonna find anyone here,” Boone said, scanning the bar. The front door opened and in poured more people. His face twisted. “Unless you wanna shack up with one of Storm Par,” he laughed and his friends around the table echoed it, aside from Kate and yourself. Instead, your eyes widened as you turned your head to follow Boone’s gaze. Into the bar walked Storm Par, still dressed in their uniforms and looking out of place. Your staring caught Scott’s eye. He held your gaze for a moment, same stoic expression until he blinked and turned his attention onto the bar as they approached it. 

On the other side of Kate, Javi hummed. “Hey, maybe they’re loosening up a bit. I don’t remember the last time Scott willing walked into a bar,” he said. 

You laughed fakely along with your friends while Kate comfortingly squeezed your hand under the table. 

You sat and drank with the Wranglers for a while, sneaking subtle glances at Scott every now and then, only to find his attention glued to the shelves of liquor behind the bar or one of his teammates. It wasn’t until the smell of smoke and the taste of beer became a little overwhelming did you slide out of the booth and excused yourself to grab some air outside. 

The nighttime air filled your lungs the second you stepped outside. You leaned against the brick exterior of the bar, gazing out into the quiet street. People passed in and out of the bar, some laughing alongside their friends, others grumbling under their whiskey-tainted breath. You hardly paid them mind, until you felt someone’s eyes on you. For a moment, a slight worry plagued you, until you turned your head and found a familiar face approaching you. 

“Hey,” you greeted Scott with a tight-lipped smile. 

He looked a little uncomfortable, his hair disheveled and uniform wrinkled from the rowdy company of the bar. He let out a breath before he said, “Hi," and joined you against the building. He left a wide gap like you were a little more than strangers but less than anything else. 

“I’m surprised to see you guys here.” 

Scott sighed, somewhere between disgruntled and mocking amusement. “Wasn’t my idea. It’s ruining my reputation as a stick in the mud.” 

You laughed despite yourself, and he met your gaze. “Oh, somebody’s got jokes now?” 

He half smiled, fixing his gaze out on the street. “I’m full of surprises.” A quiet moment passed between you two. In the fresh spring air, there was still a tension that tugged on you. It felt odd, being so close to him without either hurling jabs back and forth in the company of your teammates or kissing him while your hands roamed.

Scott cleared his throat. “You’re sure about, uh, you know, ending this?” The way he asked sounded casual like you weren’t sharing something intimate. 

You nodded until you realized he wasn’t looking at you. “Yeah,” you answered. 

He peeled himself off of the brick wall and turned toward you. A rock settled in your gut; that was why he came outside, to make sure you didn’t have a change of heart. You didn’t know why, exactly, that irritated you. Maybe a stupidly hopeful part of you thought maybe he had changed his mind and was looking for something less casual and more real. But he wasn’t. 

Then he just left, heading back inside and leaving you to blow air from your cheeks. 

The storm had blown in with a vengeance. The town was supposed to be a pit stop on your team’s and other storm chasers' way toward bigger storms developing further east, but it became the hub of a sneaky but violent front. You stumbled out of the truck and into the powerful winds that nearly knocked you up against the door you struggled to shut. 

The Wranglers looked for cover, helping some unprepared stragglers along into the nearby buildings. You made a move to follow them, but you hesitated when you saw one of Storm Par’s trucks parked alongside a sidewalk a little way down the road. One of the newest members rushed in your direction, towards the shelter, but the other person beside the truck didn’t. Scott stood there with his phone at his ear, struggling against the wind to be heard. 

You sucked in a breath before turning around, bee-lining for the building you saw the rest of the Wrangler rush into. But once you reached the doors, pulling them open for a group of people to run inside, you felt the storm grow stronger, the rain running sideways in the wind that was determined to blow over everything in its path. You weren’t sure what exactly compelled you to spare another look over your shoulder at Scott’s truck, but there was a tug on your gut that you couldn’t ignore. And when you did, your heart dropped violently. 

Scott was on the ground, pressed between the sidewalk and a mess of debris. Though it was difficult to see clearly through the rain, you were close enough to notice him struggle as the tornado loomed closer. 

It was out of instinct that you abandoned the safety of the shelter and hurried across the road. Storm chasing had created a bad habit of putting others first in dangerous weather, a need to be helpful in the wake of a disaster. 

You dodged flying debris as you crossed the distance and arrived to find Scott trying to shove a large metal ladder that must’ve come flying off the top of someone’s van. He looked a little dazed, rain in his eyes and hands cut up from where he probably tried to block the blow that came in too quickly. 

You quickly grabbed a rung and started to pull before he groaned in pain. “Shit!” he hissed, blinking away the water from his eyes to clear up his vision enough to notice you. “W-What are you doing?” he yelled above the howl of the wind. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you said quickly, pulling harder despite your slippery hands. The ladder was heavy, and the conditions only made it ten times harder to get it to budge, but between the two of you, you managed to shove it off of Scott. He rolled onto his side, face contorted in pain as he placed a hand on his ribs where the ladder had been pressed against. “Come on, we’ve gotta go!” You pulled him up by the arm, ignoring his groans of protest. 

The second he was standing upright, he stared at you with wide eyes and chest heaving. Your attention fell onto the sky and storm. Not thinking about much other than getting the hell out of the storm’s way, you grabbed Scott by the hand and pulled him toward the building. You moved quickly, despite whatever injuries he possessed, and were almost there when something hurled through the air. Before you could react, duck out of the way, or even attempt to avoid it, the object sliced across your forehead. 

Pain bloomed across your skin, stopping you in your tracks. You brought your hand up to your forehead. For a moment, you thought it was just rain that coated your skin, but when you pulled your hand back, it was red-coated. 

Scott tugged on your hand, his face twisted in a mix of emotions you were too dazed to read. He pulled you the rest of the way to the building. The world was a blur, a mix of colors that blood seeped into, staining your vision and making panic stretch uncomfortably inside your chest. People were gathered near the back wall, far from the windows. Scott pulled you down, his hand pressed firmly against your forehead. 

Glass exploded as the windows shattered. Everyone gasped and pressed themselves impossibly close to the back wall. The pain in your head battled your increasing panic, making it hard to breathe. 

Scott noticed, using his free hand to grip your shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said, voice unsteady. “You’re all right.” But you did feel like it. The world grew blurrier by the minute. You felt your eyes flutter against your will. The cut across your head must’ve been deep. Little black dots spotted your vision, despite your attempt to fight it. Your head dropped, falling into Scott. He kept his hand pressed against your cut and used his other to wrap around you, his own breath panicked as you fell unconscious. 

The lights were too bright when you woke up, groggy and disoriented. With a disgruntled hum, you lulled your head side to side as your eyes fluttered open. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” a voice filled your ears, light and relived. You blinked and Kate stood hovering over you with a small smile on her lips. 

“You gave us a heart attack,” Tyler said. 

“Sorry,” you managed to say, despite the dryness in your throat. “Everyone okay?” 

Kate nodded, patting the top of your hand. “The team’s all right; you were the only one who took a hit.” You wanted to ask about Scott, but Kate must’ve read your mind because she added, “Storm Par was all right too.” 

“Yeah, I think you short-circuited Mr. Robot. I’ve never seen Scott so bend out of shape after you passed out,” Tyler said, making your gut twist oddly. “He said you saved his ass.” 

You tried to sit up, but pain rippled throughout your head, causing you to wince and sink back down. Kate shot Tyler a look as if to say ‘stop talking’ and he listened. “You got a couple of stitches and a concussion. But the doctor said you should be back to feeling like yourself in a week or so.” 

With a sigh, you replied, “Great.” 

A soft knock sounded from the door. Tyler opened it and looked surprised as it swung open to reveal Scott. He looked surprised himself like he wasn’t sure he should be there. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and offered Tyler a look that was different than his usual scowl. 

“What’d you want?” Tyler asked, but Kate quickly rushed to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him to stand down. 

“Ty, we should go find the doctor.” She turned her head back to you for confirmation that you were okay with Scott visiting, and you nodded. 

Tyler looked confused. “What-” Kate started to drag him out of the room, side-stepping Scott before she gently nudged him inside. She and Tyler disappeared into the hall, leaving you with Scott. He pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal a small bouquet of flowers. 

“Hi,” you greeted, offering him a small smile. 

He returned it and moved to your bedside. “Hi,” he said. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been hit in the head,” you answered honestly. There was a light throbbing behind your eyes, dulled by the medication the doctor must’ve given you while you were out. “But it’s not too bad. How are you?” 

“Besides a couple bruises, not in too bad of shape.” Scott pressed his lips together in a thin line, hesitating for a moment. “Mostly just been worried…about you.” 

A warmness filled your chest, and you were too groggy to fight it off. He was worried about you, which you should have brushed off; you had passed out on him, so it wasn’t a crazy idea. But it felt big. 

“I’m okay.” You didn’t know what else you were supposed to say. 

He placed the bouquet of flowers on the little table beside the bed. “These are for you.” 

“They’re pretty. Thank you.” 

For a moment, there was a still tension that pulled between you, like it was waiting for someone to make a tug. You felt your better judgment slip, replaced by the urge to say something you’d probably regret, but Scott beat you to it. 

“Uh, I-I know this is bad timing but if I don’t say something now, I probably won’t,” he started, much to your surprise and confusion. “I know you said you wanted to call this thing,” he pointed between the two of you. “Off. But I don’t.” 

You sighed, “But-” 

“I know,” he cut you off. “You want something real. A relationship. And I don’t. Or…I thought I didn’t. But the more I’ve been thinking about it, I like being with you. I don’t want to…not be with you. I want to be with you more, actually, not just us sleeping together. If you still want something real, then so do I.” 

You blinked, stunned by his sudden confession. The heat spread from your chest, up your neck, and to your face. “Really?” 

“Really,” he said, his lips quirking upwards in a smile that made the fluorescent lights look dim. “If I hadn’t screwed it up too much already.” 

With a quick shake of your head, you returned his grin, and his body shifted in relief. “I like being with you too.” 

“When you’re feeling better, let me take you on a real date, somewhere a hell of a lot nicer than those motels.” His hand ghosted over yours and you quickly intertwined your fingers with his before you pulled him down to your level. 

“You are full of surprises, huh?” you joked, your cheeks hurting from smiling. 

He shrugged. “I told ‘ya.” 

[acid-ixx]

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

partly inspired by @l0vergirls and @on-leatheredwings.

i like to think that jason todd as your yandere would be very subservient in a sense that he's willing to drown deeper into the depths of corruption and bury all of which hurts you. he's already killed hundreds, no thousands— you eventually lose track of your kill streak the moment blood touches your fingertips— what more can a couple of your foes or even harassers do? you don't even need to acknowledge his existence to guarantee that by the time the clock strikes the dawn of another evening, another life or even lives would be taken justly (in jason's eyes) to ensure you would walk the streets without the need to periodically check your back for any thieves or to feel adrenaline rush through your veins whenever you hear something out of the picture. no, you wouldn't, not when your savior, red hood, would be quicker than all to eliminate any dirt on the street.

sure, jason's moral code was to never murder low-life criminals but hell be damned if any filthy hands lay on your body. he would rather be shot with his very own collection of guns, than let your eyes glint with fear, with trauma he was so accustomed and hardened to. whereas bruce would be known to prioritize missions, jason would immediately abort his the moment he was given a signal that your safety was compromised. jason todd is a child of gotham, and he knows she wouldn't be merciful enough to spare a breathtaking soul such as yours; a life he promises to cherish with the second life he was blessed with. he knows, for sure, that you are the one to hold the very privilege to take his life. but while he's alive, he would take every opportunity to make sure your life was every bit as comfortable.

jason todd is never gentle with his identity as red hood, but as robin, as your jason; he is a man whose actions speak a thousand words. with him as your protector, he has taken to a habit of making sure you know he isn't there to hurt you, but rather keep you safe. and you know it in yourself to not see him as a threat. you would be greeted with your favorite copies of books, either limited or collector's edition. oftentimes, your table would be filled with warm food the moment you step inside your apartment after a night shift. sometimes, you would feel his presence in your room, just right after you enter would you know that he was in there minutes ago, leaving small trinkets or gifts that reminds him of you. they may be jewelry, or music boxes, or keychains. pieces that remind you that under that thick wall of hatred, there is a heart filled with a love for creativity.

he may be known as violent, but with you? you are his everything. your knuckles would be kissed by his bloodied, busted lips, softly, patiently with every reverence in the world. every kisses you sear him with are kisses to his wounds; bruises from which he knew he took for you. your waist or hip would be protectively caged in his scar-filled arm, the other ready to point a gun at another who perturbs his peace. his chest is your safe haven, you can lay on it at any moment and sleep to your satisfaction. his hold on you may be tight, but it would never be as tight as the fingers that would crush the throats of the people who would dare to even make you cry.

jason todd is your right hand man— never beneath you, never above you, but he will kneel for you as he would offer the land of the damned if you would ever accept his sinful sacrifices. all you have to do is say the word, and your very own lover would be glad to shed more blood for your namesake.

[lookingformoondrop]

Hiiii! Thanks for writing for tcoal! If you have time can I get a yandere Andrew x reader? Thanks :)

Sure thing~ Once again, it seems highly unlikely that Ashley would let this obsession slide, so for the sake of the story, she's been bliped. Happy (late) Halloween! <3

Yandere! Andrew GravesxReader

TW: Yandere themes, possession, obsession, murder, implied kidnapping, intimidation, stalking, Andrew has a foul mouth (Y/N too), not proofread

♡1,438 WORDS♡

Andrew Graves has a mask.

It's a very well crafted mask that's used to blend in with his peers, his friends, his girlfriends, his parents, and even himself.

It covers the dark parts of Andrew that even himself is too terrified to look at.

For if you look into the abyss, it looks back at you.

But when he met you, swinging back and forth at the playground swing, he could've sworn he heard something crack.

You were beautiful.

As he watched you, with the breeze blowing at your cute overalls and baggy shirt, god, so pretty.

Your smile could open the gates of the heavens. Your laugh could make rainbows last, your tears would be prettier than diamonds, and you in his cage would bring him closer to your hell.

He couldn't help but imagine you as some sort of art. Something valuable that wasn't ever to be touched by another person. Only seen by him, just him.

His mask cracked the more he looked at you.

That day started a life-long obsession.

He would venture to that park a few more times after that, until eventually introducing himself to you. Naive you, who believed him to be a kind and stoic person.

You weren't wrong, but it was your fault for thinking that's all it was.

Even if Andrew never admitted it to himself, the thought of you being his and ONLY his made his heart flutter.

How when you breathed, when you walked, when you spoke, when you laughed, it would all belong to him.

Those thoughts kept him awake at night, even if a light blush would always dust his cheeks.

As time went on, he learned that his dakmfk thoughts that he pushed to the back of his mind would only resurface when a man talked to you. Even a father-figure was enough to put him in a foul mood.

Andrew didn't say anything, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his blood boil.

"Andy? Are you okay? You've been glaring at the ground even since we walked past Mr. Mancho."

"Why do you even like him? He's so...weird," Mr. Mancho was an innocent looking math teacher, one that always smiled at the students. And yet, Andrew hated the fact he smiled at Y/N...he didn't like that very much.

"Weird? He's been pretty nice to me...," You scratched your chin in deep thought, "do you not like Mr. Mancho?"

Andrew looked up at your doe eyes and heard something crack again,

"...he keeps looking at my things."

Andrew justified his growing hatred.

Even as you shrugged away his weird moods whenever you talked to cousins, friends, and teachers, Andrew never lacked as your friend.

Through every obstacle, he'd be there to help you jump over them. Although he'd complain about jumping in the first place, he'd never leave you.

He'd care about your issues, he'd care for your wounds, and he'd listen to your problems.

Especially when you were bullied.

The keyword here is 'were'.

While in school, a boy had groped you. When confronting him about what happened, his friend group laughed at you, claiming that you were just making shit up for attention.

This had made you cry when you got home.

Something that Andrew instantly knew about...somehow.

"Jesus Y/N, what happened?"

"S- Some boy touched me, and- h-he then said I was just making it up for attention! My friends all believed him a-and I," you broke down in sobs as your day was retold to your best friend.

As you continued to share your day with Andrew, he remained completely silent.

Several times throughout the call, you'd check if he was even still on. Still, when you called out for him, he'd answer with praise for trying to stand up for yourself, no matter what they had said to you.

You didn't know it then, but Andrew was squeezing his pack of cigarettes so hard that by the time he had gotten off the phone with you, they were all broken.

The next week, when you came to school, authorities were there questioning all the students. When they came to you, it was explained that the boy who groped you was killed and stuffed into his parent's basement freezer. Along with his friends, who all mysterious died in the forest, with some sort of satanic pentagon painted beneath their bodies.

You told the police you knew nothing, and all your friends who had doubted you came to you in an instant with apologies.

When you had told Andrew everything that happened he had only said,

"How strange."

As the years went on and you grew older, your friendship with Andrew always stayed strong.

Andrew would never say it, but when he kissed your cheek or patted your head, he was screaming,'I love you.'

But his dark thoughts, the ones he kept far back in his mind, would only double.

"Andy! Guess what happened today?"

"Hah?" Andrew turned his head from his spot on the couch.

"This cute boy at my job said he would love to take me out to dinner sometime!" You smiled brightly at the sly possibility that your bad streak with love would finally be over.

Every guy that ever walked into your life promptly bolted for the door the moment you opened it.

Andrew always told you that those guys just didn't appreciate you enough and that someone who bolted just like that was a quitter. Ashley?

But even then, you never gave up. Despite the long list of guys who ghosted you randomly.

"Oh...you said no, right? "

"What?" You walked over to Andrew from the door of the apartment. "Why would I say no...?"

Andrew looked at you with a dark shadow over his face, "Y/N, there are millions of creeps and perverts that are going to ask you out. They're only leering at you for your body."

You frowned at this notion,

"When you go to your next shift, tell him you don't want to anymore." Andrew thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

Andrew looked at your confused eyes.

"Just realized I have to get up early tomorrow to take out the trash."

When you went back to work the next day, he had quit just as suddenly.

Sad and upset over the millionth guy that ghosted and dumped you, you'd sulk to Andrew. Who would always make you warm cup of tea.

"Dumbass, you just keep picking quitters. It's not because of you."

"But Andy, I haven't had a boyfriend in years! At this point I'll die alone, probably with you right there to bury me with my hundreds of cats."

Andrew laughed at that and reached his arm around your shoulder.

"Just wait a little longer Y/N, I'm sure there's some jackass out there waiting for you."

"Yeah, right." You smiled at Andrew, "You're the only jackass I know, though. "

You leaned your head on Andrew's shoulder and began to fall to sleep rather quickly.

"The only...jackass...in my life... Andy, I'm sleepy."

Andrew took a sip of his tea and placed the cup far away from your drink.

"Rest Y/N. When you wake up, you'll have me right there besides you."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you're my best friend."

Andrew patted your hair as you drifted off to a drug-induced slumber.

"Yes, I'm your best friend," Andrew stared off to the distance as he thought about it.

"Soon, your only friend," He nodded at that statement, "Yes, the only friend you'll ever need."

His mask, although long forgotten, had finally cracked open.

You were his. Like a forbidden piece of art, it belonged to him. He was your painter, and as the painter, he declared you to be covered up. Only his retinas were allowed to peer at you.

It's your fault he went through all this effort to keep you safe. He's obligated as the painter to keep his art safe from dirty influences.

He's mildly disappointed in you whenever you speak to another man, but it's okay. It's his job after all to stalk the said man and hack his tongue off for even going to speak to you.

No matter how many guys he has to threaten, no matter how many people he's had to hack at, no matter how many people he's had to kidnap, it wasn't his fault.

It's yours.

All the blame is on his sweet, naive, poor, Y/N.

Still as innocent the day he found you at the playground.

"Still mine..." He mumbled as he stared at your sleeping face.

"Only mine."

Thanks for the ask!<3

[neonmoonster]

“Of course I didn’t want you!”

Anakin recoiled like he had been slapped.

The anger he had felt only moments before towards the man in front of him dissipated and reformed into the keenest hurt he had ever experienced.

He had known this, of course—had known it forever, and he had prepared himself for the day the truth finally came out, building walls around his heart and forcing distance between himself and Obi-Wan for this very inevitability—but actually hearing it, actually hearing Obi-Wan say those words aloud? 

Nothing could have prepared Anakin for this moment.

I didn’t want you. 

Obi-Wan was still talking, ranting, but his words seemed far away, distant, like he was standing at the end of a tunnel, miles away from Anakin, who felt lightheaded, unsteady on his feet.

“—ster had just died, the Sith were back, and here was this boy,” Obi-Wan’s voice, tight and forceful, floated in and out of the air, “This boy for whom my master discarded me without a second thought, this boy, who was now my responsibility to raise and train.”

Anakin couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see the resentment in the set of his mouth, the long-buried hatred in the furrow of his brow. 

“My responsibility—me, a barely knighted Jedi, practically a padawan myself.”

Obi-Wan let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, a sharp edge to it that sliced Anakin to his core.

“I could barely take care of myself in the days after Qui-Gon died, let alone another human being. And now I had the duty to fulfill my master’s dying wish to train this boy on the off-chance that he would save the galaxy.” 

Do not cry.

Anakin willed himself to keep looking down, to stay impassive, to not raise Obi-Wan’s ire higher than it already was. If he betrayed how much these words cut him, how deep a wound they inflicted on his heart, then the magnitude of his attachment would be revealed, and that would only make Obi-Wan hate him more. 

And Anakin didn’t think he could take any more of Obi-Wan’s hate.

Do not cry.

He heard Obi-Wan take a steadying breath, audibly reigning himself in. When he spoke next, his voice was softer, yet reverberated through Anakin's mind as if he had screamed them.

“So, no. I did not want you.” 

He sensed Obi-Wan, his accursed, beloved former master, take a step towards him. Anakin stilled, a horrible thought overtaking him.

Would he strike him? Obi-Wan had never—would never—but he had also never said anything like this out loud to Anakin before. He had finally crossed the line.

Done the un-take-back-able.

Anakin had always walked a thin line with Obi-Wan, pushing and prodding, bringing out Obi-Wan’s frustration, his rolled eyes, dry jabs, and sometimes disappointed frown, but he had somehow avoided tipping the scales all the way over—at least, not until now.

Now, when he had finally pushed too far. 

Fuck. 

Do not cry. Do not cry—

A hand fell on his shoulder. It took everything in Anakin not to flinch.

“But don’t you ever think,” Obi-Wan said, the fierce passion back in his voice and Anakin’s stomach sank, sank sank. “Not even for one second, that you were not the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

Anakin’s head snapped up in shock. The very thing he had wanted to avoid doing at all costs, but surely he had misheard, surely Obi-Wan had not just said what he just said—

“You are the best friend I have ever had,” Obi-Wan said, and there was still that hard edge to his words, but now that Anakin was looking at him, he saw that his master's eyes were not filled with anger-hate-bitterness like he had feared, but simple determination.

A serious expression, but one that was interlaced with a gentleness that Anakin could only describe as fond.

“It has been… the honor and delight of my life to teach you,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin couldn’t move because the truth of it was ringing in the Force, unmistakable and passionate and firm. “And now to fight and live beside you as equals.”

Was Anakin dreaming?

A flicker of a smile crossed Obi-Wan’s face, like he was lost in remembrance and, oh, Anakin’s heart couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle this emotional whiplash, his greatest fear and most secret hope come to life over the course of a single conversation.

“It only took you about a day and a half to win me over. I was petrified every day that I would mess you up, leave you worse than I found you, let you down, Qui-Gon down, the galaxy down—but not once did I regret you. Not once would I have traded you away from anything.”

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin shuddered, letting out a choked whimper that he immediately wished he could take back, but Obi-Wan’s eyes softened, and through their bond Anakin could only feel kindness, affection, maybe even—

Obi-Wan's expression shifted once more, for the first time his steadiness in the force wavering, and he swallowed, appearing nervous, if Anakin didn't know any better.

"I do not always find it easy to express myself with words, like this. It is... difficult for me. But it appears that it is necessary today."

Anakin stared at him helplessly.

“I am unbearably sorry that I have ever made you believe otherwise. That you could ever think that you are not my favorite person in the world.”

Anakin could not stop the tear from falling down his cheek. And Obi-Wan Kenobi, high general of the Republic Army, one of the strongest, most respected masters in the Jedi Order, and Anakin's former teacher, gently caught it with the pad of his thumb and wiped it away.

"You are," Obi-Wan's voice came out rough and tinged with something that made Anakin's breath catch in his throat. But then just as quickly, Obi-Wan gave him a small smile, his voice clear once more, even dry and teasing.

“I hope that's alright with you.”

Anakin's answering smile was watery, but it could have lit up the entire galaxy anyhow.

[https-furina]

✎ i wasn’t ready to say goodbye [various men - part two] ft. lyney, zhongli, childe, ayato, alhaitham, cyno & tighnari x fem!reader content: angst, heavy trigger warnings for death, blood, injuries, gore & murder, fontaine archon quest spoilers (lyney), hurt no comfort, suggestive for a moment (zhongli), sumeru archon quest spoilers (alhaitham), ooc ayato (i'm not confident with him, sorry) not proofread.

detective's notes. this is the second part to the 'i wasn't ready to say goodbye' series i've started following aly's request, which is part one and you can find it here.

lyney put a lot of trust and faith into you the moment you'd uttered precious sweet nothings to him and promises you swore you'd keep. the magician was hopeful that for once potentially things were going right, he was landing on his feet if it wasn't for the heavy, nagging feeling working for the fatui left on his shoulders. it suffocated him, no matter how many loving smiles you'd send his way. he could drown every moment in your familiar scent - his home, his four walls but it would never rid him of his actions.

even when he so blindly puts that trust and faith into the auspicious blond traveler travelling teyvat and bringing nothing but destruction in their wake.

a shaking gloved hand reaches out for your silhouette against the backdrop of crackling fires, embers rising into the deep night sky like fireflies. dilated lilac eyes search your facial expressions but they keep trailing that to that blade piercing through your abdomen, soaked in the precious liquid you need so desperately. he doesn't understand - he didn't do anything wrong. he'd followed every rule in the book, he'd been a good man, he swears! yet that look of fear on your face and the hatred in the traveler's eyes... he's lost. the traveler yanks their arm back, withdrawing their sword without another word. no explanation, nothing that could ease lyney's mind as he rushes forward to catch you in his arms, falling to the floor with you when your vision darkens. the loss of the blade in your wound results in a heavier blood loss, nothing is there to stagger the waterfall that leaks through your attire and lyney is desperately pressing his hands to your wound but to no avail. "y/n?" he murmurs, panicked and breathless as he hyperventilates and his eyes burn from tears. your eyelashes are fluttering, lips parted as shallow breaths escape you but no words come out. you do not respond, prompting lyney to continue begging you, "please, hold on, i'm sorry - i'm so sorry y/n-" he doesn't care to know where the traveler disappeared to. the fires roar louder in his ears, competing with the rush of blood that's sending him crazy. he can hear his own pulse thudding, heavy as he watches the light drain from your eyes. words are flurrying from his lips, his voice cracking as he wonders whether begging to the hydro archon will get him anywhere. but it doesn't when your tense shoulders fall limp, your head rolling to the side as one last breath intakes into your lungs. he promised you his work would never affect you. he promised the traveler his eternal loyalty and the concept that he was a good guy. he never lied but when he's sobbing into the crook of your neck, hugging your body close, he can't help but think his entire being was built on a web of tightly knit lies created by the fatui.

zhongli vowed that falling in love with a mortal would be unwise, he knew from the very start when amber eyes as warm as cor lapis landed on you from across the room. it was like there was a pull, a tug in your direction and the benevolent man had no choice but to approach - just like that you had the archon wrapped around your finger, not that you knew. he couldn't tell you, no, that would be even more unwise and he'd already made one grave mistake swallowing pretty moans when his lips pressed to yours in the dead of the night.

but if it had protected you from those who wanted his blood, who wanted him to hurt and his heart to ache, would it have been wise? for then, he would not have to relive this stabbing grief once more.

sal terrae remained one of his favourite spots of his country, with dazzling waterfalls and memoirs of the god of salt - a memory long drifting away - he could spend days here, camped out under a tree and listening to the calm that nature brings. but this is not the sal terrae he remembers, no. not the blood splattered on the dirt ground beneath you or the way there's a small, delicate red river trickling out of the corner of the mouth he'd kissed so many times before. he should have known not to trust the fatui the way he had whilst they were in liyue - specifically that damn ginger harbinger and the bank. he scowls, brows knitting together as he hesitantly takes a step forward. he considers whether you'll yell at him, scream and cry out in anger for his mistakes. after all, perhaps you would have not been pierced in the chest so brutally had he protected you and even more so, if he hadn't lied about his identity. you don't. you gasp out for breath, choking on blood as you cough it up. it dribbles down your chin, an horrific scene. he'd seen many in his thousands of years walking teyvat, he'd seen so much mortal blood it felt like water by this point but seeing your specific blood clawed at his heart. he wishes he could forget the vision, forget the way there are tears glittering as they spill down your cheeks. zhongli feels an immense amount of guilt and he knows the heavy weight of it will drag on his ankles for the rest of his existence. "z-zhongli?" you croak out, your vision blurring as you make out the tall man from where he stands. you reach out, your hand covered in your own blood from where you were just holding your chest. blood seeps through your clothing, the reality is starting to hit zhongli more. he approaches quicker, hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wipe your tears. he isn't sure how to comfort you - perhaps he can't. the adrenaline is fading, you're feeling the burn of your wound every time you gasp for breath. your lungs hurt, your head feels light. zhongli wraps an arm around your waist quickly when your knees give in, lowering you to the ground softly. he kneels at your side, swallowing the lump in his throat. "i'm... i'm sorry, my love..." he whispers, unsure if that's the apology he wants to drop right now. you're fading in and out of consciousness, your bloodied hand clutching at his coat as if he's the one who is going to fade away at any moment now. zhongli grimaces, the unfamiliar sting of tears in his eyes as he watches the way your chest doesn't rise again.

childe cherishes you to the point of possession. you're the best thing that's ever happened to him, he'll remind you at least once daily. if it doesn't come out of his mouth verbally, he'll show it in the form of actions, gifts, anything he can consider a love language - you have to convince him that killing people who look in your direction is not a love language.

his wealth brings unnecessary trouble as well as his association with the northland bank. there are many souls in liyue who would crave for an ounce of it, at any means possible.

he doesn't remember ever giving you a reason to leave the front door wide open - not that you need a reason but it's the peak of winter in liyue and you always complain at the thought of heat escaping through cracks in the window. upon closer inspection, the harbinger sees that the door handle is busted, hanging on by a limb. there's a sudden pang of anxiety in his chest, his gloved hand pushing the door wide open. childe is met with the sights of shattered glass and broken pottery, porcelain decorating wooden floorboards. there's a lump in his throat now, making it hard to breathe as he calls your name out and begins to frantically search your shared house. he can hear your whimpers, your soft begs to not hurt you as he approaches the kitchen. there's a bloodied kitchen knife on the floor beside you but his eyes land sooner on the puddle of deep red liquid staining your clothes and the floorboards beneath you. the blood is seeping from your neck, your voice strangled and gurgled when you cough up more blood onto the floor. your fearful eyes meet his blue ones and you choke out a sob. "c-childe- ajax.." you cry out any name you can but it's barely a whisper when you finally realise there's no one else here to attack you. his eyes are cold, his blood running even colder when he grips at the bow in his hands, his knuckles turning white and he swears he'll kill whoever did this to you. he swears that they'll feel his wraith, he'll spill their blood and he'll taint teyvat's ocean with it until they remember his archons forsaken name. when he doesn't respond to his name, you sob once more and he snaps to reality, dropping his bow as he kneels at your side. he peels his gloves off, his hands still warm as he clears your neck to look at your wound clearer. you wince, whimpering and whining at any form of contact as you grow fainter, hands weakly grabbing at childe's clothing. "i'll kill them, i swear baby - i'll make them pay, they'll regret ever coming near you-" childe's tone is sharp, stabbing the solemn air as you struggle to breathe, gasping for your final breaths. you can't even form the words to argue back against him, to tell him that killing people doesn't solve everything. that silence kills him. it sends him insane as he watches you helplessly die in front of him. he hyperventilates, brows knit together in frustration. you were supposed to argue back, tell him he's wrong. why didn't you? he shakes your shoulders gently but you're limp, unresponsive.

ayato is not a man of many words nor actions, you should have seen it coming the moment you married a socialiate, let alone the head of his clan. the man has an image to maintain and that is not limited to the likes of his wife either. you do not mind, heavily avoiding the limelight of inazuma's tabloids. ayato can do many things to protect you from scenarios like that as the commissioner of the yashiro commission.

he could not have foreseen enemy clans using you, his devoted wife against him and he could have not particularly predicated this scenario.

"who did this?" his words cut the silence, it's tense and heavy. all that resonates in the courtyard is your desperate gasps for breath, your brows knitted together as you try to recall anything about your attackers but nothing comes of it. there's no one but the two of you around, ayato had long sent everyone on a wild goose chase to find who did this to you. red soaks the white of his sleeves, hanging in the pool of blood you lay in. ayato lets out a shaking breath, there's a tight feeling in his chest. did he feel guilt? potentially. he trusted himself enough to protect you, he swore he'd never fail you. it seems he'd failed himself in that regard too. "i-i... love you..." you whisper shakily, weak and barely audible above the winds of inazuma that blow through the kamisato estate's courtyard. ayato grimaces, a cool hand cupping the soft skin of your cheek. shadowed eyes belonging to that of your beloved husband drink in the sights of your blemishes, your insecurities - the things that he has forever found beautiful. "yes... yes, i know, dear," he reassures softly, his voice cracking ever-so-slightly as he gives you a broken smile, "i love you too." you're beginning to fade out of consciousness, the blood loss taking you in its toll when your chest becomes heavy and you're struggling to find the strength to breathe. ayato coaxes you to keep going, to keep trying for him. just hold on a little longer, he promises, clasping your bloodied hands in his. he does not care for the liquid staining his clothing, it is yours and anything of yours is precious to him. but his reassurances and promises begin to fall on deaf ears when he is the only person left breathing in the courtyard of his home, his sacred sanctuary he swore would be safe for you. it's always been safe for him but as he cries out into the night, exposing his vulnerability in the moment of being alone, he wonders why it could have not been for you, truly.

alhaitham claims he has no reasoning for falling in love. he's a busy man, especially when he's thrust into the role of the acting grand safe following his expeditions helping the traveler free lesser lord kusanali. but between stacks of paperwork and arguing with one particular blond in the house of daena, turquoise eyes find you, another ordinary scholar of the akademiya. he swears he had no intentions of knowing you further than polite words shared as you pass each other in the halls.

is that why months later when he doesn't hear from you while you're out researching in the desert, he decides to go searching for you in a worry he'd never voice aloud?

thick, red liquid is binding the sand together under you, dripping from your open wound across your side. your attire is ripped, the wind occasionally blowing sharp granules of sand onto your exposed wound and causing you to yell out in pain. alhaitham is pale, his eyes wide. he should have trusted his gut sooner when you stopped writing back to him, keeping him updated on your adventures out in the desert. better yet, perhaps he should have just came with you in the first place. there are no polite words shared in the heavy atmosphere as you pant for breath. alhaitham is no better, struggling to breathe at the sight of one of the only people he'd allowed this close bleeding out in front of him. his eyes don't leave your wound, you're way too far from the bimarstan for him to get you help. you fall to your knees and alhaitham follows, his hands fumbling as he struggles to remove his cloak and wrap it around your shoulders. you're in the middle of the desert and yet you're drenched in a cold sweat, hugging his cloak around you tighter. you breathe in his familiar scent, it's warm and hugs you back. it's comforting when the wound burns harsher on your side. alhaitham should have known better than to let you venture into the desert alone, the guilt biting at him aggressively when he pulls you into his chest, burying his face into your hair. he drinks you in, feeling your shallow breaths against the shell of his ear. he listens helplessly as the seconds between your breaths become longer and they become quieter to the point he no longer feels them anymore. he refuses to pull away from you, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as your skin turns cold beneath him. he's in denial, his breaths struggled when your arms fall from around him, limp. just a little longer... he'll wake up and you'll be in front of his desk once more, that wide smile almost rubbing off on him.

cyno warned you the moment you'd figured you had a chance at getting so close to the general mahamatra - he worked a dangerous job and not only that, he himself was a dangerous man. yet you were stubborn, initiating a conversation with him any chance you got. had he been on an expedition recently? did he have any criminal arrest stories to tell your curious mind? cyno could almost chuckle at how much his work did not seem to bother a citizen like you.

he should have held his breath as he ran from the akademiya to treasures street, having been told of a murder happening in broad daylight of sumeru's summer.

"what happened?" "oh archons.." "is she dead?" cyno scowls at all the voices, the questions, the intrusion of a victim's privacy as he pushes through the crowds of civilians. his brows are knit together, trying to comprehend the idea that someone would be brave enough to commit such a vile act in broad daylight like this. a matra tries to stop him, reassuring him the case is covered but cyno shakes his head, pushing further. ruby eyes fall to the body that lies on the ground, half covered by a white sheet. the pavement below is pooled in blood that seeps through the cracks and stains the cream colour of the tiles, soaking into the white sheet being used cover for privacy. he takes note of that familiar anklet around the victim's ankle and it feels as though his whole world just came crashing. "general mahamatra, sir?" the matra from before asks wearily, appearing beside him as cyno is yet to say anything. there's a lump in cyno's throat that won't budge even though he keeps swallowing, he tries to put it down to dehydration in the summer heat but he's never struggled before, "eremites, sir." cyno wanders to you slowly, catching sight of the way your familiar hair spills out from underneath the sheet. he was hoping that the anklet was just coincidence, it was a gift from him when he'd ventured to aaru village one day but that was most definitely your hair - it was definitely your hand that peeked from the cloth. he shakily reaches for it, attempting to keep his calm in front of so many eyes. the voices whisper, gasps and sorrowful when he kneels next to your body in a rigid silence, his knuckles white from his grip on your cold hand. he chews his tongue, hoping you'll wake up and scold him for having such a strong grip and not being more gentle but you don't budge. the sheet doesn't lift, the blood doesn't disappear as if it was a bad dream. he knew you'd be in danger at his side. he has enemies, many of them. ones he has never cared for before, never bothered to utter an ounce of consideration in their direction but the man was very much aware of their existence. you was a weak spot for him, a vulnerable moment with soft, shared kisses and gentle, lingering touches. he should have known. the guilt eats at him, it follows him to bed that night where the empty pillow beside him witnesses his pillow soak in salty tears.

tighnari was head over heels from the beginning. you'd finished your studies in the amurta darshan and had promptly beelined for the avidya forest to gandharva ville, much happier out in the nature than you had been cooped up in the house of daena. if anything, he also saw you as the most dedicated forest ranger in gandharva ville. he loved that particularly.

he related to your need to protect the avidya forest with your life, you was so passionate about it but he didn't expect you to physically use your life to protect it.

there was definitely something protruding from your chest, no amount of blinking was going to make it vanish now. tighnari's tail droops as he rushes to your side, sending one last arrow in the direction of a treasure hoarder, piercing him in the neck. you're alone now, left in a vulnerable state as tighnari eases you against the green grass you've valued more than your own life. "nari?" you ask softly, confused as to why those precious, fluffy ears were flattened against black hair the way that they were. tighnari assumed the adrenaline of battle hadn't fully worn off and you had caught a glimpse of the arrow buried into your heart, which was beginning to slow its pulse as it keeps your body going. blood oozes out of your ranger uniform, something you wore with the utmost pride. "i'm here, love," he chokes out, a sharp sensation stinging at emerald eyes as he pulls his gaze away from the arrow lodged in your chest to those eyes he treasured so much, "you know i love you - right? you'll always... be mine?" your brows knit together, eyes glancing over his face. why does he look so sad? the concept of him reminding you foxes mate for life was nothing new but he always seemed so joyous when he'd remind you - this was different. there's a stiff feeling in your chest and your eyes fall down to it, where tighnari's gloved hand is gently laid around an arrow pierced into your skin. he's not attempting to pull at it nor apply pressure, he is simply keeping his hand close to the thing that meant the most to him - your heart, specifically while it's still beating. "i love you too, nari." you finally realise what's happening, the corners of your vision going dark and hazy as you admire the fox male once more. he'll be the last thing you see, laying on the grass of your home, the avidya forest. he'll be your last comfort, the last thing you smell and touch. you know it was reckless to have put your life on the line in such a way but you would have done anything to protect the forest. tighnari lets out a wail into the calm of the avidya forest, praying that someone hears his cries of sorrow. your skin is cold to touch hours later but tighnari has not left your side, his tail curled around your body with only an emptiness left in his chest in your absence.

© https-heizou 2023.

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 29 NOT AGAIN

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions + pretty detailed description of a panic attack, lwk abandonment issues

NOTES | the girls are fighting... you didn't think I'd let them make up this fast did you?? a much shorter chapter today I'm sorry 😓

15:27pm , after the game

Y/n knew ningning inside out, they'd been friends for their whole life, best friends for a number of years, they'd spent longer together than apart.

Y/n and ningning were practically sisters. They'd fought over stupid things like if apple juice was better than orange juice, they'd stolen each others clothes, done each others nails as post breakup therapy— they'd experienced love and loss, and they'd always experienced it together.

It was and always had been them against the world.

Personal problems had always existed, but they'd face them head on and, most importantly, together.

So y/n knew what ningning was feeling, maybe not exactly, but she certainly knew why ningning felt the way she did.

And sure, Ningning's words had hurt y/n too, but that was the thing, they'd said the best and worst things to one another.

Being so close to someone can be a double-edged sword. Knowing their triggers and insecurities so well that in the heat of the moment, it’s almost too easy to throw those daggers. The intimacy shared can turn into a weapon of knowing exactly what to say to hit them where it hurts. In those moments, it’s like being caught in a toxic cycle, where love and pain intertwine.

Regret sets in as soon as the words leave the mouth, but the damage is done, leaving both people feeling raw and vulnerable. It's a harsh reminder that knowing someone deeply can sometimes mean knowing how to wound them just as easily. So y/n knew that Ningning was showing nothing but her concern.

But equally, she understood she deserved somewhat of an apology as well, even if Ningning's words had come from a good place, they'd hurt, and perhaps they hurt even more so coming from her.

It seemed a simple explanation why this argument of theirs had rested at the forefront of her mind for so long too, because Ningning was the only person in her life who Y/n couldn't imagine losing. And after everything that she'd been through, after the people she'd lost, and the relationships she'd seen go with them, she knew she wouldn't let herself be to blame. She wouldn't let herself lose a friend, least of all Ningning, just because she didn't communicate.

Or at least that was her plan, as she made her way down the hallway of the hotel, her hair still dripping from the shower she'd just taken, gripping way too many snacks for the two of them to share. Minjun followed after her, still gushing about having seen his older sister play for the first time, begging her to teach him how to dribble the ball like her, a grin plastered across his face. It was endearing, really.

And Y/n swore she only turned to smile at him for a second, but in the next, she felt her heart drop and her blood run cold. It felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet, and suddenly, she was trapped in a whirlwind of way too many thoughts, coming way too fast.

There, stood across the hallway, was a man she had made many desperate attempts to forget. To no avail, of course.

She blinked, rubbing her fists against her eyes hurriedly, as if he was nothing but a figment of her imagination, that when she looked up again he'd disappear and this would be nothing but a bad dream. But there he was, struggling to open the door to his room, angrily staring down at the key card with furrowed brows.

He seemed older. His hairs greying and wrinkles setting in across the feafures she recognised so well, his smile lines deeper than the last time she'd seen him.

The last time she'd seen him.

Her breaths quickened at the sight of him, becoming deeper yet each inhale felt shallower than the last, and her chest tightened like a vice. This wasn't happening, it couldn't, not here, not now.

She could hear the muffled voice beside her asking why they'd stopped walking, she could feel minjun's grip tighten around her, she could see the way the man turned his head at the realisation he was no longer alone in the haway, but it all felt distant, like she was underwater.  Unsure how to answer, she stood silently, gaze locked on the man, blinking rapidly, questioning if he was really, truly stood in front of her at all. As soon as he locked eyes with her, she felt the bile rush up her throat and a distant ringing in her ears, her hands beginning to shake against the smaller ones that held hers. Y/n felt like she was drowning. But she knew she couldn't. It was a luxury she couldn't afford, and the soft skin brushing against her hand was a reminder of that.

Panic surged through her, and y/n fought the urge to break down, feeling the walls closing in on her. The bright lights overhead felt too harsh, illuminating the doubts swirling in her head, making it hard to focus. Calm down. She thought, but she couldn't. She couldn't think she couldn't move, and worst of all, she couldn't calm down. She convinced herself this was nothing, voiced out lies in her mind that echoed with uncertainty. Breathe, she thought. But she couldn't. It was as if every unresolved feeling crashed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her gasping for air and desperate for an escape. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ground herself, but the memories flooded back faster, unrelenting and unforgiving.

Y/n found herself tugging harshly against the smaller wrist that was still loosely resting in her grip, making a sharp 180 and jetting off down the hallway, with shaky steps and ragged breaths.

She had to go, she had to leave, she had to do it now. Her phone vibrated in her hands only seconds later, a painfully familiar contact flashing across the screen, and all y/n could do was throw the device into the bottom of her bag, stuffing her belongings in on top, making no effort to answer the questions coming from the confused young boy who watched her. The blood rushed to her head so quickly, too quickly, in fact, and she swore the room in front of her begun to spin.

Her dad hadn't called her in years, not a single message, not a single word, so why now was he calling? Why was he reaching out now? Just because he'd seen her? Did some sort of shitty parental guilt kick in at the sight of his now grown children? Did he feel inadequate, maybe even jealous that they were doing just fine without him? Y/n didn't know, and she didn't care, but seeing him was still enough for her to take an unwanted trip down memory lane, reliving every moment since he'd left. Her chest tightened, the lump in her throat growing to the point that she couldn't breathe no matter how hard she tried. Still, she kept going, scanning the room to make sure she hadn't left anything behind.

Minjun had never seen his sister like this, so close to breaking down, and y/n didn't plan on letting that change today, sucking in deep breaths and wiping her teary eyes as she pulled his jacket around him. It was getting cold outside now, and she wouldn't let one careless mistake from her because of something so trivial, leading to him becoming sick.

Y/n could barely function, struggling to pull the zipper loop up and through the jacket, still she kept going. Her body ran on autopilot, muscle memory taking full control as she silently pulled the bags through the door and held a hand out for minjun to follow. Too occupied in her own thoughts she rushed out of the hotel with urgency, taking long strides towards the cabs that waited outside, only realising she was moving way too fast for Minjun to keep up when his small rushed breaths filled the air. She needed to calm down, she wasn't alone and she had to act like it. Minjun was her responsibility, and she needed to take care of him.

She muttered out an apology, quick, sincere, but short and found herself falling back into the  cycle of her own thoughts again. Comfort was a thought far away, but the surety of heading home, caused the racing of her heart to ease just slightly, a dull ache developing in her arm now that she'd finally set down all her bags inside the cab, a cramp settling in.

In that moment, y/n felt the overwhelming feeling of solitude press down in her, honing in from all sides, and the ache of abandonment crept into each corner of her heart. The pain was bitter and fuck, it ran deep.

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[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Six: Telephone Call

Chapter Six: Telephone Call

warnings: smoking, angst, phone sex, male and female masturbation pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: after the party, you and Kento find yourselves almost too nervous to talk to one another, yet at your last chance meeting before the summer he drops a bomb on you. despite this, you two find yourselves getting busy over the phone a/n: sorry for the delay...but I found my inspiration for this chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

taglist: @cherryblossombankai @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat @marikuchanxo

@harlekin6 @entirelysein-e @brokennerdalert

@sugurusprettygirl @hazzelle-kento @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist

The week that followed the disaster of that party, you decided to try and cry it all out. The memories were still so fresh in your mind. The look on his face; the betrayal and hatred for you. It hurt so goddamn much. You wondered if you’d ever be able to get out of this funk.

The promise of a summer vacation seemed nice, and possibly would be a bandage for the pain that was still seared deep into your heart. Knowing you’d have to come back to school at the end of the break didn’t seem very promising either. Knowing you’d have to face him again.

Your pride had been so wounded. He continued to act as if you didn’t mean anything to him, and you wondered every time you two crossed paths if you’d be able to face him like you once did. Kento seems to be perfectly content with not talking to you.

In fact, the rumors of him hating you have been spreading like wildfire. So your friends decide to spin it all around and make you see the positive in all of this.

“He was just one guy! You can meet all kinds of cute guys when you come out with us to the beach this summer!”

“Yeah! You’ll see, lots of fish in the sea!”

Still you were clinging to empty promises and tender wounds. By the end of the semester, you found yourself wanting to find the man who stole your heart and to tell him off. You wanted to scream in his face, punch him a few times and leave him discarded on the ground. Just as he had done to you, you would gladly do to him. You would find yourself feeling much better if you were able to feed him the same poison he had fed you.

Your mind kept thinking about all the fun you two had together during the school year. It wasn’t just hooking up and fooling around either; it was deeper than that. It was getting to know him, to know what made him tick, what made him laugh. Cracking the outer layers of the man who was Kento Nanami.

As much as you wanted to discard him and leave him be for the rest of eternity, you found yourself at an impasse. You were madly in love with him. You wanted to go all the way that night too. Everything had been hinging on him returning from getting those damn waters and him just fucking kissing you.

Since that night, you were dreaming of his lips on yours. You missed the way he made your stomach flip with just the sound of his voice. You longed for the all-nighters you two spent together. The sounds of the old N64 and the cursing from the AVGN videos playing in the background on your old and clunky laptop.

And while you suffered in silence, Kento was living his life as if you weren’t even a part of it at one point. You wondered if maybe he even cared that you were suffering. You wondered if he even thought of you. Given the way he doesn’t even look in your direction, you think you know the answer.

Behind those cruel hazel eyes, there was something else there that most people couldn’t see. Kento was wracking his mind with a way to get you back.

He was sure you hated him, so he didn’t even bother to try and talk to you since that night. But the days were counting down and soon you’d be gone for the summer vacation. Soon you’d be gone for a while and maybe when you came back you’d have a new man.

The thought of you kissing someone else pissed him off. It made him angry and jealous and fuck he was seeing green. Every time you wouldn’t even glance in his direction, his heart was breaking even more.

There was just nothing he could do to bring you back into his arms. He thought of every opportunity and every single action of kindness he could bestow upon you. And none of them could ever come close to show you just how terribly sorry he was.

It was killing him inside. It was tearing him apart completely. The thought of you leaving school and coming back with hickies on your neck, or wearing someone’s sweater, or even just having that look in your eyes from a new love, that would be the death of Kento.

Then the final day of school comes and everyone’s getting ready to leave for summer vacation. He’s been thinking about this day over and over. He keeps thinking about how he’s going to catch you right before you leave and tell you he’s sorry.

The words sound so good in his mind. They sound perfect. He can hear it all so clearly. So why does he feel like his tongue is overly tied and his brain is a fog when he approaches you near your friend’s car?

The giggling and talks of summer vacation stop when your friend notices him lurking nearby. Your eyes widen suddenly when you see Kento so close. The butterflies multiply a thousandfold when he comes up to you.

“K-Kento?” you ask, your voice trembling.

Your friends all move aside, making sure he’s not about to attack you or anything like that. They want to see that he’s here to make amends and not break your heart even further. Some of them even think maybe you two could remain friends.

“I…I need to talk to you,” his own voice doesn’t sound strong.

With a nod from your friends, you make your way over to him. They all lean against the car, ready to intervene if they need to. Then you turn your attention back to Kento.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Kento notices the way you cross your arms over your chest when you ask him this.

“I wanted to talk about what happened the other night.”

There was a beat of silence before you both looked at each other. You could see all the words he wanted to say in his eyes. He looks away bashfully before he fishes out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He offers you one, but you decline. Then he brings the cigarette to his lips and lights it. You note that the smell is so comforting to you. 

“I was being such a shithead, alright? It was stupid of me. Those damn girls’ words had gotten to me.” He says between drags of the smoke.

You tilt your head to the side, “What girls?”

He looks away, and you’re starting to put the pieces together. Someone said something bad to him that night. Someone had made him feel like you weren’t completely in love with him. 

“Those damn girls we saw when we arrived. I guess they must have felt entitled to tell me that you were using me.”

Your heart feels broken. This was the cause of the rift between you two. The words of some dumb girl and her posse of bimbos. People who had no idea that you and Kento were more connected and bonded than most people are with their parents, their pets or even their good friends.

“Wait…you saw them? What the hell did they say to you?”

Kento shakes his head, “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. I just wanted to apologize to you. I was stupid to leave you like that.”

You wanted to reach out to him. To hug him. To kiss him. You were desperate to hold him against your body once more. You wanted to hear his voice whisper sweet nothings in your ear once again.

And all too soon, your friends were ushering you into the car. You wanted to run back to him, but they were telling you that they needed to get a move on. Then you hear those three words from his lips…

I love you.

The drive back to your hometown was awkward and quiet. All your friends felt bad for driving off without giving you a chance to answer Kento. He would be thinking about this moment for the rest of the summer and you wouldn't know how to deal with it.

His heart clenched as he watched you get into the car and he desperately called out to you. Saying those three words, they weren’t supposed to come out just yet. No, they were supposed to stay deep inside of him until the perfect moment came. If it ever came.

He was silently cursing himself for messing it all up. How would you ever want to talk to him again? You were probably telling your friends just how stupid all of this was. And with this, he leaves to go stay at his friend’s place for the summer.

The text message comes later. Then the phone call. He’s happy to see you messaging him. You ask him how he’s doing. It’s a few days after summer vacation started. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about leaving you hanging. My friends are jerks,” you say on the other line.

Kento is hanging out on his bed, his head feeling fuzzy from just hearing your voice. “Nah, don’t even worry about it.”

The two of you have so much to talk about. Neither of you mention the party nor do you mention what he said on the last day you saw each other. You two just spend time talking on the phone and enjoying one another.

And with each day, you two find even more conversations to have. Until one day you send him a picture. It’s a picture of you in bed, wearing just an oversized shirt. It makes his heart race and his cock hardens immediately. He finds the courage to call you up.

“Tell me what you’d want to do with me if I was there,” his voice sounds so husky like this.

You’re barely awake but you feel the need growing inside of you, “Kento…I want you to kiss me.”

Just hearing you wanting him to kiss you excites him even more. He’s fisting his cock, moaning into the receiver. You hear the slick sounds of his precum coating his cock. You let one of your hands dip down under your shirt and you begin to play with your aching clit.

“What else? Come on…talk to me.”

“Want you to kiss me, touch me…need your fingers in my pussy.”

This causes him to squeeze his cock to prevent himself from cumming too fast. This was going to have to be enough until you two saw each other again next semester.

“Yeah? You want me to lick that cute little pussy?” He doesn’t understand where he’s getting the courage to talk like this.

You whimper, “I wanna cum all over your tongue.”

This makes it even harder for him to slow down. You’re both working towards a similar goal, moaning and panting for one another. Kento growls softly.

“I’m gonna cum,”

You groan, “Me too.”

Tighter and tighter becomes the coil in your stomach. You see stars when you fall off the edge with a quiet call of his name. Kento is right behind you, biting his lip so he doesn’t yell too loud as he spills his cum all over his fist and his abdomen.

Both of you are panting as you catch your breath. Kento is the first to say something, coupled with a breathy chuckle.

“Hope that’ll keep you happy until we can see each other again.”

You smile, “I’ll be counting down the days.”

[jymwahuwu]

Seeing the noncon filming and blackmailing reminds me of the Dan heng and blade kidnapping each other's darling situation🤭

But what if you were Dan heng's/blade's darling but they made a bet👀 who could make you cum faster and harder?

Blindfolding you, legs spread with your pussy dripping... What a tempting offer for them🤤

All I can say is if you can still walk tomorrow, you probably won't in a few hours😏

-💦anon (brain is brimming with delicious ideas but can't find time to write them🥲)

💦anon sorry I’ve been slow to respond to you, but want you to know that I love you and your thoughts. 😳🥺 want to see dan Heng and blade compete for us!! 🤭

CW: yandere, non-con, forced overstimulation

Here Blade and Dan Heng reconciled…but just like folded paper that cannot be restored to its original state…the disputes and hatred are like the faint scars on the wound, no longer the constant pain and burning feeling. Inevitably, they still have quarrels…and what better target than you? This was originally just a subtle rivalry, just look at the traces of kisses on your neck the next day. However, the intense traces of love that Blade left on your thighs irritated him, and the jealous monster bit at his sanity in his heart. Blade sneered and crossed his arms. Dan Heng's conversation advising him to treat you gently has somehow turned into a bet-

Who can make you cum faster and harder?

A black cloth has covered your eyes, and your hands are tied behind your back. Blade is skilled at this, as he once had a job kidnapping a wealthy man on a planet in order to take Stellaron. He was more ruthless at that time, like a sword, stabbing and threatening those people accurately, so the surging pain was not so painful. "What- What are you two going to do?"

After you ask the question, you're stuffed full of dick, as if telling you to shut up. The thick and round cock head separates your upper and lower lips, opens the moist inside of your mouth, and presses against your throat. You whimpered and endured, knowing it was Blade's.

Dan Heng apologized to you while unbuttoning your buttons and pulling down your underwear. The apology was somewhat insincere. His thumb circles your clit, giving occasional vibrations and friction. He was a little eager to get your first orgasm of the day, pressing into the depths of your sweet vagina, the tight inner walls craving for his two fingers. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. After you get used to this rhythm, he will finger you mercilessly until you bounce up and squirt.

They take the round and do it without neglecting any of your holes. The loud and wet sound has been echoing in your ears, and you can still faintly hear the sound of water that has been filled with seeds. The dragon's tail is convenient for pushing you around and holding your butt in place for reproduction. Blade folded your legs and with every push, the rich load in your butt flowed onto the sheets, and your moans and rejections were covered and drowned by kisses. Sometimes, you think this is the end, but find that those cocks that are thrusting into you have no intention of stopping, and instead hit another orgasm.

By the end of the match, you're twitching and covered in seed. The result may be a tie, so there may be another competition in the next few days...

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: Your escape ends abruptly at the hands of the Drüskelles. And yet, on the night of your execution, the darkness has never been so warm and welcoming. Today is not the day you die, you hear it whispering.

Words: 3.2K

TW: Sexual assault attempt, graphic description of murders, mention of prostitution and child SA, hurt/comfort.

Part II - Their Frozen Shackles

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The thick rope they tied you up with bit into your slim wrists, their coarse fibers scraping your skin raw as you struggled against your bindings.

"Faster." A gargantuan soldier growled, pushing you with so much strength you tripped and almost fell on the snow-covered ground. You glared at him, your pale eyes briefly diving into his. After fleeing for one year, you finally got caught in the middle of nowhere. One minute you were walking through the frozen trees and the other you were shoved on the snow, a man's knee pressing on your back so painfully you couldn't breathe anymore. Those cursed Drüskelle had been prepared, ambushing you with a precision that left no room for escape. Now bound and gagged, you had no other choice than to follow them despite your weak body, aching from the journey's relentless pace.

Your captors barely spoke but their grim expressions as well as the disgust that was burning in their eyes each time they looked at you was a constant reminder of what awaited you in Fjerda. A joke of a trial. The stories of Grisha hunted like animals, dragged to the pyres where fire would consume them as crowds cheered, haunted you. So, that's how I'm going to die, you thought bitterly and a shiver ran through you. This time, it wasn't from the cold.

"Let's stop here for the night." The same rugged man from the North said.

The camp came alive as night fell, the Drüskelles setting up the perimeter with an efficiency that spoke of experience. Observing the silhouettes of tents and men, you let out a sigh at the unpleasant sensation of the cold gnawing at your cheeks. You were standing slumped against a tree, your legs and arms released from the bite of ropes only to be restrained by heavy and frozen shackles. Your white hair, matted with dirt and snow, clung to your seraphic face as you looked dagger at the men who dared approach a bit too close to your liking. Even chained and vulnerable, most of them didn't meet your gaze.

"She's quiet", one of them muttered, his tone uneasy but a sparkle of morbid curiosity twinkling in his dark pupils, "And she's so... frail." The soldier added, fascinated by how the witch's long white hair danced in the wind.

"She's dangerous," another corrected and, by reflex, his grip tightened on his axe, "Don't let her tricks nor look fool you. She's a goddamn murderous witch. And the worst of them."

A witch. A monster. An abomination. You had heard it all before and yet, the sharp edges of those words still cut you deep. Closing your eyes, you did your best to steady your breath and fight against the frustration of not being able to use your powers to break free.

The camp was quiet under the shroud of night, save for the occasional crackle of dying fires or the muffled rustle of snow beneath the guard's boots. While most of them were comfortably sleeping in their tents, the cruel wind that swept through the barren forest cut to your bones, but you had stopped noticing it. The cold had long since seeped into your skin, the frozen chain that bound your wrists pressing against your wounds. You sat in the cage they put you in, knees pulled to your chest and your snow-white mane tumbling around you like a grim shroud. The feeling of powerlessness crept into you, twisting your stomach and making you grind your teeth. That burning hatred simmered in you but what could you do except wait? Wait for this nightmare to end. Wait for your inevitable death.

You remained still, your icy aquamarine gaze locked on the frost-covered bars of your cage. As far as you can remember, rage has always coiled in you like a living thing and no matter your divine appearance, you were all but a saint. Nor a martyr. Just a storm waiting to roar.

The sound of boots crunching against the snow suddenly broke your reverie though. The Drüskelle captain who kept pushing you a few hours ago strode toward you, his tall and muscular frame looking even more massive against the dim firelight. Still, you could see his face in the twilight: a rough-hewn face, with a scar slicing through his brow and a look of cold, cruel authority etched on it. His long blonde hair was tied in a quick, messy man bun.

"Change of plans," he said to the guards who were watching you, "We're not dragging her back to Fjerda. Can't take the risk."

One of the guards hesitated. He looked at his fellow brother before he spoke. “But the trial—”

“No trial,” the captain snapped, refusing to wait for him to finish his sentence. “I’ll take her head myself. It’s cleaner this way. Fewer men dead because they underestimated what’s in that cage.” His voice was a low and predatory rumble.

Your chest tightened at his words, but you refused to flinch. It was something you never did in the Menagerie and you weren't going to start now. Even though you had remained quiet since they caught you, your eyes met his sky-blue gaze with defiance, "Afraid, are you? That's wise" Your voice, haunting and steady, howled with the winter wind.

The captain's lips curled into a thin, mocking smile. "You think you're clever, don't you, witch?" With one brutal shove, he pushed the guard out of his way and motioned for the others to step back, "I've seen your kind burn and, trust me, y'all scream the same in the end."

Brutal rage flashed within you as the captain opened the cage himself under his men's terrified eyes, stepping inside with the same disgusting look your wealthy client had on their face back at the Menagerie: the look of a man who thought he held all the power over you. His strong hand suddenly grabbed your wrist and forced you to stand.

"Before we finish this," He murmured, leaning over you until his face was level with yours. His unfinished sentence floated in the air as his eyes fell on your fleshy lips, chapped due to the cold, "I think I'll indulge myself. Never had a witch before. Pretty sure you're tight pussy might worth the risk and keep me warm in this cruel weather."

He reached out, brushing a gloved hand against your cheek. The sudden physical contact made your stomach churn with revulsion. A shiver of fear crawled beneath your skin, cold and sharp as a blade, at the thought of this man ravaging you. Despite your stillness, a tinge of fear pinched your heart for all your life men had used your body as if it was nothing but a toy to twist and break.

"Fucking animal." You whispered back to him without faltering. If anything, your eyes hardened, the frost within them sharper than the crisp winter air.

"I do fuck like an animal, y'know. Like a wolf." The captain leaned closer, all his height towering over you and his breath hot against your face, "Terrifying, they say. That you can kill with one sole movement of your little hands..." His hand trailed down your jaw to your throat, lingering there to feel your pulse quicken under his touch, "But here you are, helpless as a lamb." His hand freed your throat as he spoke but the relief was short for this time, he cupped one of your small breasts, "I wonder, does the evil witch they talk about bleed like a woman?" Fear followed close behind, a visceral feeling that bloomed in your chest as he started painfully playing with your nipple -- bile rose when he pressed his hardening cock between your legs, "Is your cunt tighter?"

You didn't respond, or struggle. In fact, you simply stared at him, until his smug confidence began to flicker with unease and his ego hurt by your lack of fear.

"What?" He snapped, gripping your chin roughly with his free hand, "No threat? No last words?"

To this, your only reply was a faint smile that ghosted across your lips, brittle as ice, "Just this: you should've killed me when you had the chance."

Before the captain could retort, the shadows seemed to shift around you. Then, the fire flickered, dimmed, and extinguished entirely even though the wind was low.

"What's happening?!" One of the Drüskelles hissed, his voice filled with fear as he looked around him. An unexplainable panic started to fill the camp, the air thickening with an oppressive weight that pressed against your chest and stole your breath. The darkness around you seemed to pulse, alive and watchful, carrying a power that made your blood hum in recognition — but in recognition of what? you thought, feeling suddenly as frightened by this suffocating presence as your captors. It was heavy, unsettling, as if an imminent threat other than you was about to be unleashed. And yet, contrary to the Drüskelles', you felt something deeper beneath the unease. A pull that felt like a whisper in your bones, calling you home.

Come to me.

I’ve been waiting for you all my life.

Come to me.

A figure emerged from the darkness, cloaked in black, his movement unnervingly calm amidst the chaos. The shadows clung to this tall silhouette like a living thing, shifting and weighting as though they obeyed his every wish and command.

"Who's there? Who the fuck are you?!" The leader barked, pushing himself away from you to reach for his sword and unsheathe it.

The mysterious and threatening man didn't answer. Instead, he raised a gloved hand and, all of sudden, the shadows that were dancing around him surged forward like panthers pouncing on a bunch of easy prey. The screams came next, sharp and agonizing, tearing the silent veil of the night as the darkness attacked the Drüskelle one by one — some devoured, swallowed by it, others cut into pieces by pitch-black blades.

Utterly terrified, you dropped to the ground, turned your head away and squeezed your eyes shut just like you did when you were a child. Your stomach twisted again as the air around you filled with the wet, choking sounds of death and the metallic smell of blood you knew far too well. The Drüskelles' shrieks were inhumane, otherworldly wrapped in pain, but all you could hear was the loud drums of your heart beating so violently in your chest that you thought it would burst your ribcage open.

Only when the silence returned did you dare open your eyes, blinking and cautiously surveying your surroundings for you feared the slightest hasty movement would cost you your life. The sight that met your icy eyes squeezed the air out of you again — a dozen bodies laid discarded on the ground, mangled in such a gruesome way that you felt slightly sick in the stomach, even with your high tolerance to horrors. Slowly, you moved your feet and crunched the snow beneath them to check if you were still alive: the snow around you was drenched in crimson, stark and jarring against its pale coat, and forming long trails like veins spreading through the ice.

Then the shock wore off, leaving its place to another surge of panic: the creature responsible for such manslaughter was still there. You raised your head with hast, looking for it.

The figure stepped closer and as he did the pale moonlight faintly illuminated his face, unveiling the traits of a man, not the wraith you were expecting. The more he walked toward you, the more his physical traits came into sharp focus. Your eyes locked onto his, breath still caught in your throat as he fully emerged from the shadows — hypnotizing features carved with precision, framed by black hair perfectly slicked back. His deep-set eyes, two haunting obsidians, glimmered with an unfathomable intensity, their depths both alluring and dizzying like the event horizon of two soul-sucking black holes. Your eyes lingered a bit longer on him, observing his angular jawline, the shadow of his beard and the way his seductive lips were curved in a faint, enigmatic smirk that exuded both charm and danger.

General Kirigan.

He knelt before you, his dark eyes sweeping over your huddled-up form, "You've caused quite a stir," he said calmly, his voice surprisingly smooth and tinged with a barely perceptible amusement. His long black coat draped over his form like liquid darkness, blending with the night.

“And you’ve made a mess,” You retorted after a few long seconds, carefully relaxing your shoulders and raising your head.

The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “Only a necessary one.” With a slight flick of his wrist, the shadows suddenly cut through your shackles and dropped on the bloodied snow with a muffled thud. As soon as you could move, you rubbed your raw and bruised wrists to soothe the soreness — your gaze never left his.

"Why are you here?" Your tone was wary, but far from trembling.

Kirigan straightened, his tall and lean body towering over you as he offered his gloved hand, "I've come for you" he replied, the inky abyss of his eyes was laced with an unearthly gleam, both inviting and terrifying. For a brief moment, you felt as if he could see into the deepest corners of your soul, the sensation was worse than being stripped naked in the cold, "I've been looking for you and I must admit that you are quite good at hiding."

Your jaw tightened, still taken aback by his magnetic presence and the adrenaline, but you finally took his hand and let him pull you to your feet. Despite the leather of his glove, you could feel the jarring warmth of his touch, which created a stark contrast to the coldness of the night. Back on your feet, you had expected him to release your hand but he did the opposite — his long fingers gently squeezed it, trying to warm your skin up.

"What do you want from me?" You pressed, behaving like a wild and cornered animal no matter the fear that clawed at you.

"What do I want?" He echoed, his voice velvet and firm at the same time. Kirigan's gaze lingered on you, observing the tiniest details of your face just like you did. You were a vision of unsettling perfection, as though carved from ice and shadow. Your snow-white hair — damp because of the snow — cascaded in silken slight waves to your lower back and framed a face that seemed too delicate to be real. "I want like most people want when they hear tales and rumors," He drawled, his black eyes fascinated by your porcelain skin. Your features were impossibly dainty, the kind of beauty that felt so otherworldly that it came off as eerie. To be honest, reminded him of a broken doll. Your heart missed a beat when you noticed his pupils dropping on your plump, inviting lips, tinted like frost-kissed rose petals, "I want to unravel the mystery."

You could not help but snort, "A mystery... And why should I trust you, then?"

Aleksander shrugged off his black coat in one swift motion and stepped closer to drape it over your frail shoulders with unexpected care. The weight of the coat was grounding and the warmth from his body, still deeply woven with the fabric, seeped into your cold skin. "You don’t have to trust me, but consider your alternatives. You’ve seen what they wanted from you.” His gaze flicked to the Drüskelle corpses scattered nearby, then back to you. The beautiful contrast of the dark coat against your small and pale figure made you seem even more delicate, like a fragile snowflake caught in a storm. His hands lingered briefly on the edges, steadily and protectively, before he stepped back from your private space.

'You’re no different. You want something from me, too." You said but grabbed the collar of his coat and lift it to your throat to protect you from the wind.

"Of course I do,” Aleksander retorted, “But I’m offering you something in return. Freedom. Safety. A chance to control the power that terrifies them. Or would you rather keep running, waiting for the next set of chains?”

His words felt like a punch in the guts. Chains. The simple mention of it made all your body tense. Your breath hitched but remained silent.

"I don’t think you want to be afraid anymore. Don't you think you deserve more than a life on the run?”

You studied him, your icy eyes narrowing, as if searching for cracks in his composure. Or instruction to decipher his intentions “And if I say no?”

He tilted his head, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. “Then I leave. You’ll never see me again.” His voice dipped, a subtle thread of urgency weaving through. Aleksander sounded sincere, but a part of him knew that he was openly lying: letting you run away was not an option, "But you know I'm right, even though you'd probably hate admitting it."

Your cold fingers curled into the fabric of his coat as your mind try to come up with a solution. Yet, exhaustion was weighing on your shoulders like lead now that the adrenaline was wearing off, making his promise of safety even more tempting. You finally exhaled, shoulders slumping. "Fine."

"Let's get you some food and a warm bath." He said, the ghost of a smile flirting with his lips for a brief moment as he offered you his hand again.

You hesitated before taking it, your small and bloodied fingers disappearing into his gloved palm. The promise of something filling to eat and a comfortable place to sleep definitely convinced you.

Moments later, General Kirigan helped you climb onto the back of his black horse. The mighty beast's hairs were gleaming like onyx under the moonlight and a little voice in your head couldn't help but wonder if the animal too was made of shadow. Too drained to argue or ask other questions, you leaned against his back as he mounted, your body limp except for your arms wrapped around his waist. Admittingly, his warmth was an unexpected comfort against the chill of the night and the latest events. Despite yourself, you let your head rest lightly against his shoulder and tried your best to forget about the Drüskelle Captain's hands roaming all over you. To forget about the clients' hands too.

Aleksander stiffened for the briefest moment, surprised by the sudden sensation of your small frame pressing against his back. A flicker of something unnameable crossed his face —possessive, almost tender— before a satisfied smirk crept over his lips. The general's hands tightened around the reins as if anchoring himself too, the faintest whisper of a thought blooming in his mind: Mine.

"Rest now," he said softly, riding into the night. His soothing voice lulled you, resulting in your eyes fluttering close, "You're safe with me."

And though you weren't sure you believed him, for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to hope.

taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader

Please consider reblogging and commenting. It is what motivates writers.

[maidflowery]

The Gratitude of a Fox

𝟷 𝚘𝚏 𝟺

Jiaoqiu x Reader

Ｔａｇ： Ａｎｇｓｔ， Ｈｕｒｔ， Ｄｒａｍａ， Ｃｏｍｆｏｒｔ

At the end of winter, a human saved a wounded fox.

At the beginning of spring, a young man arrived at her doorstep, and they fell in love.

One day, he asked her, “If I’m no longer human, will you still love me?”

Prequels: Pinky Promise; Good Night, Sweet Dream

Spoiler for 2.5

The first time Jiaoqiu met you, the snow was falling relentlessly.

It dyed everything white. The trees, the roofs, the roads, and even his own blood, splattered on the asphalt.

By then, a soft, cold blanket of snow had encased him, growing thicker with every passing second. The icy grip of winter was gently pulling him into a deep, eternal slumber.

Just how... Did it come to this?

Jiaoqiu smiled wryly. At least, he felt sure that he was.

No one knew when they would die; any day could be their last.

He just didn’t expect it to be the day he finally set out on a small trip to the rural countryside. He wanted to see what it had to offer in terms of hotpot. But on the way, he bumped into someone.

‘How is one capable of holding so much resentment?’

When Jiaoqiu turned around and met the man’s eyes, such was his first thought.

Jiaoqiu opened his mouth to apologize, but only a small whimper came out. Then, he fell to his knees. He looked down and saw the hilt of a dagger protruding from his abdomen.

Crouching on the ground, Jiaoqiu instinctively looked up at the man who had stabbed him.

The man was seething, his eyes bloodshot, as if carrying a lifetime of rage.

“You deserve it, you sly fox!” he snarled.

In truth, even before the man uttered those words, Jiaoqiu already had an inkling of who he was.

No, he didn’t know the man personally.

Perhaps, in a distant past, this man’s family, relative, or even ancestor had crossed paths with him. Another life he had failed to save despite being a healer.

Jiaoqiu stared at the crimson pool spreading under his feet. For a moment, he couldn’t register it was his own blood.

Meanwhile, the man’s torrent of hatred continued.

“How dare you show yourself here after sending my father to his death!”

...Ah, I see.

“You hid in a safe place while everyone else laid down their lives in the war!”

That’s one way to see it.

“Then, only you returned, taking all the credit! Some healer you are!”

Certainly... I became a renowned healer after enlisting for some time.

As for why, I also don’t know why.

“—It should’ve been you!!”

Jiaoqiu finally understood. This man was grieving. He had lost someone precious and didn't know where to direct his sorrow. So, the man chose to hate him, the healer who was supposed to save his father.

At the same time, after living for so long, Jiaoqiu knew how easily the truth could be twisted. Some rumors painted him as a cunning fox, maneuvering people like disposable pawns for his own gain.

The man’s words were nothing but fallacies, yet Jiaoqiu agreed with every single one of them.

After all, those were the exact words he used to say to himself.

*

The man left Jiaoqiu to die on the side of the road.

As a healer, Jiaoqiu came prepared. He applied emergency treatment right away. Nevertheless, there was only so much he could do.

He was suffering from blood loss. It took all his strength just to treat his wound, let alone stand. As a result, he lay helplessly on the ground.

The once light snowfall had turned into a full-blown blizzard.

A blizzard...? When winter is nearing its end...?

I’ve stitched the wound, but at this rate, I’m more likely to die from hypothermia...

It was a rare chance for him to enjoy a holiday, and he chose this place whimsically for a solo trip. Everyone else was preoccupied with their own businesses.

He couldn’t help but think that it was karma.

His field of vision was dyed white, with no one in sight. Snow muffled all sound beneath its soft weight. Crying for help was useless.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. But the final moments of those soldiers who perished on the battlefield must have been far scarier. So, what right did he have?

“How dare you show yourself here after sending my father to his death!”

Jiaoqiu couldn’t help but think about the man’s words over and over again.

Sending them to their death.

He couldn’t even deny it.

He had tried his best to cure them, but ultimately, it was their choice to return to the battlefield. If he could, he’d have prevented them. He’d have saved everyone. He wanted everyone to live.

Why? Why did he survive?

Lady Feixiao, I’m so sorry... I promised to cure you, but I think this is it for me...

Despite his best attempt, he couldn’t prevail against fate.

Slowly but surely, everything went dark.

“—u okay...!?”

Just before his consciousness disappeared completely, he heard a voice.

***

The next time Jiaoqiu woke up, he found himself staring at a dull ceiling, marred by slight stains.

It was bright, too bright, and warm.

His wound no longer hurt. In the first place, Foxian had excellent regeneration.

“Where am I...?”

When Jiaoqiu tried to sit up, something heavy fell from on top of him. He soon discovered it to be layer after layer of blankets. Then, he looked around.

The shabby room was warm and full of light. The sky outside the window was a shade of deep blue. From the vibrant and colorful surroundings, it was evident that winter had passed.

Something rapped against the window, stealing his attention.

The once dreary branch, covered in snow, was now adorned with a cascade of delicate blossoms. The flowers clung to the branch in such abundance that the wood beneath was barely visible, as if the tree itself had bloomed into life.

“You’re—hoahm—awake...! Ouch, my back...”

Hearing a voice right beside him, Jiaoqiu turned around.

That was when he first saw you, his benefactor.

Dazzling sunlight streamed in, making your smile even more blinding. Gentle breeze swirled in, carrying petals of cherry blossoms, and one got stuck in your hair. Instinctively, he felt the urge to reach out to you, but he restrained himself.

As he let your smile wash over him, a tinge of warmth crept in his chest.

At that moment, he clearly recalled thinking:

Spring has arrived.

*

Later, you filled him in on everything. You were a university student who happened to past by on the day of the incident.

Thus, Jiaoqiu learned that she had rushed him to the hospital, only to discover that his wound had already begun to close. The doctor even complimented how well the stitches were done.

After disinfecting the wound and bandaging him, they sent him home. Her home, technically. Afterward, she made sure that he stayed cozy and warm with all the blankets she could get. She even surrendered her small mattress to him, sleeping on the floor the whole time.

Then, he slept for three days and nights.

“No words can express my gratitude. I’ll make sure that your kindness is repaid. Also, I’m sorry for the troubles I’ve inadvertently caused you...” Jiaoqiu thanked her courteously.

During the conversation, he also found out she’d snuck him into her apartment without permission. He’d have to leave soon.

He didn’t want to stay indebted with someone, so he began thinking of a way to compensate her. How could he break this off as cleanly as possible? Financial remuneration was one way to do it, but it might be too crude.

Just as he was in deep thought...

“You must be hungry. Here, I made some porridge!”

She returned with a bowl. When he saw the bland white porridge, something inside him fell, but he made sure not to let it show. At the same time, his nose picked up a scent, but it was too subtle for him to decipher.

Probably just my feelings...

Showing his friendliest smile, Jiaoqiu dared to make a request. “Thank you, but may I ask for the spiciest pepper you can fin—”

Before he could finish his words, she shoved a spoonful into his mouth.

“Ahaha! So funny, do you want to wreck your stomach?”

Jiaoqiu glared at her while chewing the porridge. Something had been nagging at him since earlier. At last, he understood what it was.

Those eyes.

Since the beginning, she had been looking at him as if he was a wounded rabbit. As a Foxian, he wasn’t quite sure how to take that. In the end, he decided to just keep chewing his food.

...!

But then, a gentle aftertaste enveloped his mouth. The silky white rice had a hint of natural sweetness to it.

“Is this... coconut milk?” Jiaoqiu remarked in awe.

“Yes, that’s right! This is my favorite way to cook porridge!” she smiled at his guess.

In truth, he wasn’t astonished by the coconut milk itself, but rather by the fact that he had tasted it in the first place. Until now, he could barely taste most food.

He wondered why.

Jiaoqiu turned around, and saw that she was holding another spoonful, smiling eagerly.

“Here, Mr. Pink Fox, aaah~”

...She’s really treating me like a small animal.

A confusing feeling rippled in his chest. He didn’t exactly dislike the look of fondness she gave him, but being treated like a critter, on the other hand...

“My name is Jiaoqiu. Also, I can eat by myself,” he said, no longer smiling and averting his eyes from her.

“Okay, okay.” She readily handed him the spoon.

Frankly, he wasn’t that hungry. He was just curious about the lingering aftertaste.

So, he ate a spoonful, and then another. Before he knew it, he was eating his second bowl.

Something is strange...

“You have quite the appetite! But, eating a white porridge must be boring. Here! Some garnishes!”

“You don’t really need to...”

He politely declined, but that didn’t stop her from adding a fluffy omelet, some chopped greens(?), seaweed flakes, and pickled radish. Immediately, the once white porridge was filled with colors, looking even more appetizing. The greens turned out to be scallions instead of coriander, so all was right with the world.

Jiaoqiu took a bite of the omelet and was pleasantly surprised to find it creamy, with a perfect balance of salt, sweetness, and a hint of pepper. But there was something much deeper than that. A flavor that couldn’t be achieved by simply adding salt, pepper, and sugar.

“Delicious. This is...”

She grinned, as if waiting for that exact question.

“Mushroom bouillon! Another one of my favorites!”

“I really like it. How creative. To think that you can add it to an omelet...”

His cooking style was quite traditional, without any additives. If he wanted to make broth, he’d boil some fresh mushrooms. Now, bouillon powder and stock cubes could be used in dishes beyond just soup. How time had changed!

Then, he tried the pickled radish. It was both crunchy and spicy! Coupled with the porridge, the flavor became irresistible!

*

You stayed by his side as he savored the meal, sharing your cooking knowledge as if you had known each other for a long time.

Before Jiaoqiu knew it, the sun had gone down.

“Hehe. Mr. Pink—Jiaoqiu, you must be starving! You finished the entire pot!”

Yes, that was right. He had finished not one, not two, but the whole pot! He was too ashamed to meet her gaze. His cheeks flushed with heat.

“I-in my defense, I hadn’t eaten for three days. I’m really sorry. I’ll be sure to compensate you for the meal. Oh, and the hospital bills also...”

“Haha, don’t sweat it! You were seriously injured! Now, please rest!”

Under normal circumstances, he would have refused outright. In fact, he would have left long ago. But something was not right with him today. Like she said, it was probably because he was seriously injured.

Jiaoqiu rested his head on the pillow while his benefactor lay on a pile of blankets not far away. He insisted that she took some of them. The room was small, so there was little space to spare.

With his stomach full, sleep naturally came to him. As he drifted to sleep, he glanced at her for one last time. She had dozed off by then.

Came morning, he’d decided how to best repay you.

***

Jiaoqiu had departed at the first light of dawn.

He left without saying goodbye, leaving behind a stack of bills and a seemingly precious piece of jade.

It is what it is.

You had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to encounter a Foxian, so lucky you. Besides, he made sure to properly compensate you. You kept telling yourself this, attempting to disperse the sinking feeling in your chest.

Then, days passed, eventually turning into weeks. Whenever you pass by the row of cherry blossom trees near your apartment, you’d inevitably be reminded of the androgynous beauty with the same hair color.

Then, on that fateful day, you heard a soft knock on your apartment door.

You opened it, revealing a dazzling, familiar fox-eared man carrying an antique wooden lunch box.

By that time, not a single cherry blossom petal remained on the branches outside. Yet, his hair, fluttering in the spring breeze, gave you an illusion that the sakura season had just begun.

The man, Jiaoqiu, smiled at you.

“Hello, I’m a new neighbor that has just moved in next door. It isn’t much, but I made them myself. I hope you enjoy it.”

He took off the lid of the lunchbox, revealing a piping hot meat bun.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my life. From now on, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to tell me."

"'A-anything'...?"

"Yes, from cooking a simple meal, sharing a conversation, treatment for illness, to getting rid of someone."

The pink Foxian smiled, speaking as if he was talking about how nice the weather was.

"Ooh, how kind—wait, can you repeat the last part?”

"Fufu."

Seeing the innocent, pure smile on his face, you decided you just misheard it.

Of course, like a decent person, you turned it down.

“I saved you because it's the right, munch, thing to do. Mr. Jiaoqiu, I do not, munch, wish for any kind of compensation whatsoever.”

...Except your hand seemed to have a mind of its own. You spoke while stuffing your mouth with a meat bun.

“You seem to be enjoying the meat bun. Oh, look, you ate them all. I'm glad! I have more in my place. Would you like to come by?"

“Munch, okay.”

You followed after him, seeing his fluffy pink tail wagging left and right. He opened the door to his place, exposing you to an onslaught of delicious, meaty fragrances and seasonings.

Afterward, you ate, ate, and ate some more. At some point, dinner and some side dishes were served on the table. Jiaoqiu really went all out.

Then, as you bit onto the crunchy spring roll, you suddenly remembered something.

...Wait! I’m supposed to turn him down!

𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻

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Thank you for everyone who has read this far! Here's a little quiz for you! Guess the correct answer, and I'll draw the scene of us spoonfeeding (chibi) Jiaoqiu!

[wobblesthecowgirl]

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter One: Rescue Mission

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This is my first rdr2 ff! This is also my first time posting ff on tumblr so I hope it's set up nicely! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! I hope to make this a long series.

Chapter Two

Despite being a part of the gang, Y/n hated the O’Driscoll’s. Except for Kieran Duffy, who acted like her brother, like her partner in crime. Which was how she found herself in Horseshoe Overlook after following the Van Der Linde Gang.

She used her binoculars to get a better look. It was nighttime, so the only light she had was the moon and the warm glow of the campfire. She pinpointed Kieran, who was sitting on the grass with his hands tied behind a tree. He looked malnourished and weak. The anger upon seeing his sorry state only worsened for the woman, as she sat to think of a plan. She groaned in annoyance. This wasn’t what she usually did. I’m a sniper, she thought to herself, not a stealthy hero.

There were too many people around for her to use her actual skills, so her best bet was to sneak behind the tree and cut him loose without cause a scene. Shoving her binoculars in her satchel and making her way over with her knife in hand, she was able to get to the tree.

“Kieran!” Y/n whisper shouted, causing the poor man to jump out of his skin. He turned his head around, and his eyes widened when he saw who it was.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Getting you, dumbass.” She already started cutting at the rope, which was too thick for her knife.

“Leave me! This gang is real scary.” He pleaded, “If they catch you, you’ll end up like me…or worse!”

She ignored his pleas for her to abandon him and focused on getting the rope loose. She was halfway there, the rope almost freeing him, when she got caught.

“Hey!” The voice was low and gruff. Y/n snapped her head up to see a tall, broad man with a beaten cowboy hat on, pointing a pistol right at her. She moved away from the tree slowly, but before she could make a run for it, he shot her in the thigh. She instantly fell to the ground, screaming in agony as she held the wound in hopes to stop the bleeding. The fabric of her jeans didn’t help ease the pain as it was now sticking to her wound.

The man ran towards her, pulling her up harshly and propping her up against the tree next to Kieran, who was calling out to her, as she was tied up. He was right, she was now in the exact same position he was in. 

The man who shot her was glaring as others from the gang showed up. 

“Dutch!” The man called out for the ringleader, who jogged over.

“What is it, Arthur?” 

The man she now knew as Arthur gestured at her sorry state before replying, “We have another O’Driscoll, I caught her trying to free our friend Kieran.” 

Everyone was staring at her whimpering state. Her hair was messy from the journey over, her black button up top had been untucked from her jeans, her satchel and belt were barely intact, and her wound was only getting worse. 

“Well now, she doesn’t seem like that much of a threat!” Dutch chuckled, earning a glare from Y/n.

“You shot me!” She hissed at Arthur, who seemed surprised by her feisty nature despite bleeding out; she knew it was a risky move, especially as she was becoming lightheaded. 

Arthur pointed at her, his eyebrows furrowed, “Of course I did. You snuck onto our camp, trying to free our prisoner!” He then turned to a woman with black hair in a messy bun.

“Abigail, will you please tend to her wound. Can’t interrogate her if she dies on us.” 

Abigail nodded her head as he thanked her, and she soon returned with medical supplies. Everyone kept a close eye on her, hatred in their eyes. An older man with a grey hair spoke up to Dutch, “Are you sure it’s wise to have another O’Driscoll on camp? Having too many may cause a riot.” 

“I think this is a great opportunity!” The gang’s leader said, “She came all this way for him, so they must care for one another. We can use that against them when getting the information we need on Colm.” 

Y/n’s eyes were going fuzzy, and Kieran’s cries were starting to sound far away. Abigail made her way over with the med kit; she seemed to be talking to the wounded O’Driscoll but was ignored as she began to pass out. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When she awoke again, the sunlight blinded her, and every inch of her body ached. Her arms were cramped, her neck snore, but the biggest pain was her thigh, which felt like it had been beaten and set on fire. She looked down to see the wound had been disinfected and sewn up, and the fabric had been cut a little to get to it, leaving her thigh exposed. 

“Y/n! You’re awake! Oh, I was so worried!” Kieran’s voice caught her attention, who sighed with relief; he was stood up, most likely to stretch his legs. 

“I’m sorry.” Were her first words to him, she stretched her legs out in front of her and winced as a sharp stabbing pain went up her leg. 

“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got shot, and now you’re a hostage too.” He also apologised, a sympathetic look on his face which matched that of a kicked puppy.

“Hey, don’t go crying now.” She warned him, rolling her eyes like she always did. He nodded his head but looked away, probably to go against her request. However, her attention was diverted to the very man who shot her, as he strode over to her. 

“You’re awake.” He stated, standing in front of her, making her look up at him from her seating position. He must’ve been at least six two and built like a brick house. Either way, she wasn’t winning a physical fight against him any time soon. 

“I appear to be.” She stated, deciding to be cocky. If she was going to die, she wanted to die with her dignity and sarcasm. He clicked his tongue, clearly not impressed with her quick remark. 

“I wouldn’t get smart if I were you. Someone in your position can’t afford to be arrogant.” He folded his arms as she scoffed, shaking her head.

“My position? You mean shot in the leg and tied up? If anything, I think this calls for sarcastic remarks towards the very man who put me in this predicament.” 

“I hope you talk this much when I ask you about Colm.” He sighed, rubbing is eyes and placing one hand on his hip. She went quiet, realising being shot and tied up were probably the start of a long, antagonising death. 

“Well don’t get quiet now.” Arthur snapped, but she looked away from him, receiving a small groan from the older man. 

“We can start of easy.” He began, “What’s your name?” 

Still facing away from him, she replied, “Why should you get the honours of knowing that?” 

“I can see that wasn’t an easy question.” The irritation was laced in his words as she refused to cooperate. She looked up at him again, who had an impatient look on his face. It seemed he wasn’t going to leave till she answered.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She mocked, the same irritation in her words. He shot me, why should I make this easy for him?

“Are you a child?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing but still answered her, “Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

She hummed after hearing his name, and then fell silent. The wind picked up, causing Y/n’s hair to get messier, and creating goosebumps along her skin. The man sighed before walking towards Kieran who instantly cowered. Her once bored attitude was no more, now she was on high alert.

“Look,” Arthur began, “I ain’t gonna hit you, I don’t hit ladies. But I do hit men, and you clearly care for this one. If you don’t start talking, he’s gonna get hurt, and you don’t want him to get hurt, do you?” 

She watched as Arthur swung his leg back and kicked her friend hard on the shin, causing him to crouch down in pain and wriggle his bound wrists. 

“Alright! It’s Y/n L/n! You asshole!” She spat at him, trying to get the man away from Kieran. Arthur smirked and made his way back over to the woman. Oh, how I would love to smack that smug look off his face. 

“There we go, that’s much better. Well Miss L/n, you wanna tell me where Colm O’Driscoll is hiding?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t care to share that type of information with me.”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word she said. All she could do was nod her head, not bothering to develop her answer further. Arthur shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself. The longer you put off telling us, the longer you go without food.” He stated before turning around and walking off back to his tent, leaving Y/n to glare daggers at his back.

“This is real bad. I’ve gone days without food, I can’t take it much longer.” Kieran made sure Arthur was gone before her conversed with her. She tried moving her leg again, but the pain was unbearable.

 

“Just you wait Kieran. We are going to get out of here, and I’ll make sure I snipe that man right between his eyes. Whatever you do, don’t tell them anything. We won’t be able to go back, we’d be hung for selling Colm out.” 

Kieran rested the back of his head against the tree, looking dead ahead.

“I don’t think I want to go back.”

“We don’t have a choice,” She exhaled, “We would be hunted down if we tried to be lone wolves. We are bound to the O’Driscoll gang till we die. Let’s just make sure our death is merciful.” 

With that, the two captives fell silent, watching the rest of the campers go about their day: eating, doing chores, and laughing with one another as the days ticked on. 

[gossippool]

fuck it 1.5k words of logan exposition that's part of the first chapter of an unpublished fic i won't be done with anytime soon. this backstory is partially inspired by the origin comic. tw mentions of violence, death, child death, self-harm etc. etc.

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The first time Logan killed an innocent, he was ten years old. He could name many moments in his life that felt monumental—'canon events', or whatever shit Wade calls it—but if he really had to name a point of no return for him, it would be then. All the way back then. He wonders about fate, often. If it was possible that things could ever be different. Then he remembers. His past comes back to him in flashes still, even after two hundred years. His ribbed, rough bones splintering the skin between his knuckles for the first time, the deafening quiet of the night broken by his howls and his mother’s screams, the gunshot before that, as if all the world had been contained in that one room. Her body underneath his, wounds gaping—maybe her throat, maybe her chest, or her stomach—and guzzling dark, dark wine. His grandfather’s mouth moving, the spit on his tongue. The words made no sound—he couldn’t remember what his grandfather had said, nor what he'd sounded like. But he'd known. So he'd run.

He'd had a decent childhood, before it all. Decent enough that he hadn't thought of life anywhere else, at least, or maybe that spoke of something that was the opposite of decency. Regardless, he'd felt… clean. He hadn't known about his claws then. How could he? His own mutant brother had been cast away, erased from the family legacy, with no explanation as to why. But now his claws resided in him like an itch under his skin, dead weight when he moved. He felt their presence in his fingertips even when they were retracted, and now when he thought back to the before, before he'd had the claws, he thought that maybe he'd felt them then too. He just hadn't known it.

It had been an accident, killing the mother he'd longed to see, the one he'd missed even when she was alive. But it being an accident changed nothing.

He'd been filled with a quiet sort of rage since then, the kind that simmered low in his blood, unnoticable on some days but intrinsically a part of him nonetheless. His anger was its own organ that kept his body running unprompted, and if he let himself accept that he was angry, let himself feel it, it took everything in him to not claw his way through the anger. To not claw at himself until he reached bone, to hear the unnatural, inhuman screech of metal against metal.

He'd released it in increments, chopping wood and lugging wheelbarrows and running with the wolves, and beating up the occasional man who deserved it. That was in the early stages, when every exhale released puffs of anger into the cold air.

On bad days—the bad days were the normal days—he wondered if he had been born defective. Not just in his claws, but born to be full of fear and hatred, to not know where to put any of it. Born to reap the consequences of his brother's failures in the form of neglect and frigid silences, of the bond of family only through blood and nothing more. In unleashing himself, he'd become his brother, maybe. A mantle of generational disappointment passed on for him to bear.

On worse days when he hated himself to the point of self-mutilation, he recognised that it may have been inevitable. A buildup of pressured anger in centuries-long microdoses that eventually forced its way through his fissures and burst out of him, destroying everything in its path.

He sits in this bar now, indistinguishable from all the others, unwanted again, always running. He bears the looks and the whispers like a wooden cross, dragging the weight of it on his back down Gethsemane streets—sacrificing himself for what the people feel it right give him, what he knows he deserves: contempt. The bartender pours him another drink with what looks like anger, but also pity. Pity is kinder than anything he’s been dealt for the past few years.

He holds the shot glass like a communion cup, imagines that in it is his mother’s blood. When he drinks it, he thinks forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me of my sins. But he knows he won’t be forgiven. He doesn’t know anymore if he even wants to be. Because his sins have been building up for two hundred years, clawing at each other to get to the insurmountable top. He is sin. Every inch of his body, from the roots of his hair to the skin under his fingernails, has been stained with blood that he has washed off over and over again but still feels. If he’s forgiven, if all his sins are taken away, he doesn’t know if there would be anything left of him but metal and a hardened heart.

It may absolve him of some guilt, he thinks, if he could say he remembers them all—all the people he’s killed, all the ways he killed them. He doesn’t. They hadn’t been important enough to him then, besides the life that they held in them that he starved to take away. And when his claws pierced through their flesh and muscle and bone, he drank up the lifelessness in their eyes like morphine. The high kept him alive, and rotted his insides. It quenched his thirst, but it didn't make him feel good. Then again, when does addiction ever?

He can't even remember the X-Men. When he had, when they'd crossed his thoughts in passing when they were alive, he could see them clear as day in his mind, vivid in saturation and detail. Now when he tries thinking of them, all he sees is questions written in blood.

He does remember one of them, vaguely, of those he's killed. All of his past is a blur now, memories seen through a fogged-up window or in a yellowing photo album. But this one he sees with slightly more clarity: a girl with dark skin and darker hair, a carbon copy of her mother. He'd killed them both twice over. It was the first time he killed a child.

And he remembers her because he’d liked it when he killed her. The tabooness of it, the special sanctity of a child's life that he had forced away, so easily. Something that people hardly dare to do. Look, he remembers yelling, to dead bricks and corpses in a dead-end alley. I'll fucking show you. They’d thought he couldn’t go lower than he already had. They'd thought they couldn't hate him more. They had no idea what he was capable of.

He remembers her screams, bloodcurdling but still unmistakably a child’s, and then her eternal silence. He remembers her mother's begging, his own mother's begging. He remembers that he had not felt an ounce of guilt in that moment, nor remorse, nor any of the gravity of her life.

Now whenever he drinks, he drinks enough to kill himself a little, in remembrance of her.

Not that that's the only reason. Because underneath it all, despite it all, through it all, he is nothing but a selfish bastard. And it's fucked up, he knows it is, but when he stopped killing people it had felt like withdrawal. More potent than any withdrawal he could get from drugs like a normal person. It was a withdrawal he's stuck with because he's more tired of kiling people than he is thirsty to sate his urge. Not the urge to kill—just the thought of it now makes him sick, clogs his throat with blood—but the urge to take all his despair and anger out on something. Everything. And oh, he's tried. Not even killing the world and filling oceans with blood was enough.

So he drinks, because nothing can satiate that urge, and the alcohol makes him forget that it even exists. You can't think about anything when you're blackout drunk. You can't see how other people look at you when you're passed out. But even in unconsciousness his body remains wound tight and tense, and he wakes up sore through every muscle.

He doesn’t believe in God, but he’s lived long enough to know enough. And he knows that God wouldn’t differentiate between the good and bad people he's killed. Blood is blood is blood. The blood of the innocent mixes with the blood of the evil, turning the lake a plagued, undrinkable scarlet all the same.

And this isn't a children's book, a bedtime story, a movie where everything gets wrapped up in a nice little bow and they all live happily ever after. He fucking wishes.

All of it remains in the back of his mind like a prowler, laying dormant and ready to pounce, when Wade drags him out of that bar; when he decides to save that asshole's timeline; when Laura tells him he's the wrong guy until he isn't; when Wade says he's the best Wolverine. He looks around him, and all the world is still black and white and bleeding red.

[matan4il]

Update post:

Yesterday, there were no less than two terrorist attacks against Israeli civilians, one in the morning, and one in the evening.

The first one happened in Beersheba, where the terrorist stabbed and injured two people before being neutralized. The terrorist was an Israeli Bedouin, who had been convicted of drug-related criminal charges. The prosecution asked for his arrest, but the court decided to be lenient, to aid in his rehabilitation, and instead only sentenced him to community service. He was due to start in two weeks, but instead he chose yesterday to attack innocent civilians.

The second terrorist attack took place in Gan Yavne. A Palestinian man, who used to have a work permit in Israel, but lost it and remained here illegally, carried out the attack. The Palestinian terrorist started stabbing people at a gym and then at a nearby cafe, wounding 3 people, all of them originally determined to be in serious condition, one is a teenager, the other two are reported to have life threatening head injuries. The terrorist was 19 years old, and he was neutralized at the scene. In investigating how he managed to stay inside Israel illegally after his work permit had expired, the police has arrested two people so far.

Israel has wrapped up its second operation at the Shifa hospital in Gaza City, with another soldier pronounced dead (20 years old Nada Cohen), bringing the IDF fatalities in the Gaza ground operation so far to 256, and the total number of killed Israeli soldiers in this war, including during the Hamas massacre (reminder that some of those soldiers were girls serving in non-combative posts, without combat training or even a weapon, and were slain while still in their pajamas) to 600.

The end of one operation in a Gaza hospital doesn't mean that's the end of Hamas abusing medical and humanitarian facilities, so there are and will be more such operations. That's why I'm also sharing this reminder that nothing is sacred or even just... off limits to Hamas, who moved kidnapped civilians in ambulances, as one of the released hostages testified.

I mentioned in a post expressing my frustration over foreigners' ignorance over the conflict, which doesn't stop them from acting like they know better than the people actually living it, the Hamas-Fatah "civil war," which erupted in 2007, when Hamas killed Fatah members in Gaza and took over the place. The two Palestinian factions have tried reconciliation several times over the years, but it never lasted long. Israel's war in Gaza against Hamas and its fellow terrorists organizations is not over yet, but already there's signs of that tension. This def bodes well for Palestinians if Hamas survives this war.

A city council meeting in California, which dealt with Holocaust remembrance, ended up being the scene of some despicable displays of antisemitism in its anti-Zionist form. IDK what was most distressing to hear about, the way they screamed "Lies! Lies!"' at a Holocaust survivor, or that they took and threw to the ground the phone of a Jewish man who came to speak about his grandma who had survived the Holocaust, or that they mocked a mother speaking of her child being harassed at school to the point he doesn't wanna be a Jew, because he doesn't want to be hated... Maybe that they made my friend, who attended the meeting, cry on what was supposed to be a very special day. I saw coverage on Israeli TV of the city council, which both told me how bad it was, if of all things, that's what they're talking about, and at the same time, it was nothing like hearing about it from her. So I'm glad that she shared some of her own impressions about this ugly demonstration of hatred (I'm also scheduling her post for a reblog). I just hope Jews all over the world know that we here in Israel care about you, we love you, we are standing by your side, and we wish we could do more for you. <3

Speaking of antisemitism, and an inability to recognize it as such, to call it out and condemn it, here's some recent examples from around the world. In Spain, the locals went out for an Easter drink, a tradition called, "to kill the Jews," but insisted it's not racist. Attacking and even killing Jews actually was customary in Europe on Christian holidays such as Christmas and Easter. In fact, this specific nickname is derived from those old attacks.

In London, a policeman insisted that swastikas being displayed at an anti-Israel protest were not antisemitic, and should be taken "in context," despite admitting that a symbol that's abusive or would cause public distress would fall under his jurisdiction to act against.

In the Netherlands, a single mom of a Jewish girl was attacked for the daughter's choices (she decided to move to Israel and has served in the Israeli army) both at home and at her workplace, a hospital. The mother was so rattled after the attack at her home, that she wouldn't stay there. A Jewish hotel owner offered her a free stay at his hotel. In an interview with an Israeli reporter, the mom said she's considering moving to Israel, too (source in Hebrew).

This is 32 years old Celine ben David Nagar.

She worked as an office manager at a law firm, was married to Iddo, and they had a 6 months old baby together. On Oct 7, Celine was on her way with a friend to the Nova music festival, but they never made it there. The Hamas rocket attack started first. For 10 days, she was considered missing, and it took a while, but eventually they found her body. While her fate was still unknown, two days after the massacre, Iddo went on TV and talked about the fact that Celine was still breastfeeding. Following the interview, hundreds of Israel women volunteered to donate their mother's milk to the little baby girl. At Celine's funeral, Iddo asked said goodbye to his wife, and asked hr to watch over him and little Eli from above.

May her memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[kitasgloves]

Happy Together

tracklist

— ♬ "Me and you, and you and me. No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be. The only one for me is you, and you for me"

— ♬ Akutagawa Ryuunosuke x Reader, SFW, female reader, graphic depictions of violence and murder, mentions of stalking, brief depiction of SA, Akutagawa having unresolved anger issues, 3.04k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

No child should indeed experience the brutality and unforgiving side of the world. A child has the right to preserve their innocence and revel in their blissful youth. To run around carelessly and play with their friends. But for Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, only the ones who are privileged get to experience the luxuries of a perfect childhood. Akutagawa was already unfortunate, being birthed in this cruel and unfair world. His eyes opened to the harsh reality around him in the slumps. Barely having anything to eat or getting enough sleep, all Akutagawa had was his dearest sister, Gin.

The siblings barely got by trying to survive. A child shouldn't be trying to survive, they should be taken care of. But The Akutagawas had nothing but each other as they learned how to fend for themselves or look out for one another. Being the oldest, Akutagawa became naturally protective of his sister. Even in this weak body that was given to him, it became his priority to try and protect the only thing he had left. Even if it meant he couldn't defend himself.

However, after suffering for the majority of his childhood, a man dressed in black, and bandages decided to pick him up along with his sister. To think someone had taken pity on him made Akutagawa scoff. That man, Dazai Osamu, only picked him out of the slumps because he saw the potential bloodthirst in him—a bloodthirst a child should never have. Dazai never cared for him or looked upon him with pity; he looked at him for his potential for violence.

As he continued his growth in the Port Mafia where Dazai has taken him, Akutagawa and Gin slowly drifted apart to be put in different trainings. To stay in the Port Mafia means you have to prove your worth. Akutagawa's ability, Rashōmon, had the potential to secure his place in the Port Mafia. But he needed to polish his ability, and that's where Dazai came in.

Akutagawa was exposed to more violence and scrutiny from the bandaged man. He was bested and beaten down as a lesson. But he kept trying and trying despite his weak body which was prone to illness. Akutagawa found himself striving upon Dazai's approval which was rarer than the rain gracing the desert. When he thought he had full control and understanding of Rashōmon, it seemed like it was never enough for the man who he deemed as his mentor.

If that wasn't cruel enough, Dazai has decided to betray the Port Mafia. He left Akutagawa seemingly stranded and still seeking his brutal guidance. It only rubbed salt in the wound when it was later discovered that his ex-mentor had joined the Armed Detective Agency. Since that bitter experience, Akutagawa has learned not to expect so much from people.

After all, he was used to being on his own. He needed nobody and he has grown stronger than the feeble child that he used to be. Slowly, Akutagawa climbed the ranks with this mindset. People began fearing and admiring him for his violent reputation, but he couldn't care less. For a while, he was content. He was satisfied with the hatred and anger in him that he used as fuel to continue his brutality. That's all that he saw in himself anyway, a beast of destruction.

However, you entered into the picture. Akutagawa viewed you as a pathetic woman in the first encounter. It was his day off when he went for groceries at the grocery store you worked at. You flashed him a beaming smile that day when you scanned his items. He raised a brow; did you always give customers that obnoxious smile? As soon as you bagged all his groceries, he immediately left, paying too much of what was needed and not waiting for the change.

Akutagawa went to the grocery store when he needed something since it was the nearest to the Port Mafia headquarters. He wasn't fond of you, and he constantly avoided encountering you often. From what he can observe, you seemed like a pushover, always letting your co-workers shit talk and walk over you. And you'd always smile and laugh it off as if it was no big deal. If Akutagawa was in your position, he would've either quit the job or gave everyone a piece of his fucking mind.

Somehow, you were resilient. You never wavered and behaved calmly even when there was a disaster at work. When your superior scolded you or when a customer kept hurling complaints at you, Akutagawa never saw you lash out. A part of him found it impressive but he was interested in finding your breaking point. So, he decided to play a little game.

Every time Akutagawa would go to that grocery store, he made sure to cause inconvenience for you. He tested you by making complaints, knocking off stacked products in an aisle, and even holding out the line to make other customers angry. And yet, after all the cruelty he has done, you have never called or cussed him out. All you did was smile, and he hated it.

Was it possible for someone to be too kind for their own good? Maybe you had a different upbringing when you were growing up. Maybe you never got to experience fighting to earn your right to live. Or sleeping off the starvation you felt. Or being beaten senselessly just to earn your place. You were probably sheltered from every violence Akutagawa has witnessed. He despised blissfully ignorant people like you.

He stopped bothering you thinking it was no use, and he'd only get filled with worthless frustration. Akutagawa doesn't return to the grocery store for a month. However, he encounters you outside of your workplace on the night of Halloween. He has recently finished defeating a few enemies when he sees you getting harassed in the streets. He doesn't recognize you at first because you're wearing a skimpy Halloween costume than the modest uniform, the one he usually saw you in. He watched you shaking your head and saying 'No' to a bunch of drunk men trying to take you home. When one of them grabs your ass and you ended up slapping them in the face, the situation takes a grim turn.

One of the men pulled you by the hair and started to undo the first buttons of your costume. Akutagawa felt his body freeze in newfound horror. To think you were probably only trying to get home but these drunken bastards didn't know what boundaries are thought they could have their way with you. He clenched his fists but decided to turn around. Akutagawa didn't want to get involved; it was unnecessary. But all of a sudden, your high-pitched scream echoed in the empty street, and it resembled so much of his sister's voice. Akutagawa stops in his tracks and turns around sprinting towards your direction.

It was a blur. All the men were knocked out on the pavement with a few broken bones or dislocated joints. When Akutagawa got a clear look at you after beating the shit out of those men (without even using Rashōmon), he notices the tears streaming down your eyes. Your hair and clothes were a mess when you reached out to take his hands and thank him profusely. His eyes might be playing tricks with him because he sees a parallel of his little sister's crying face over yours. To think you reminded him of Gin made Akutagawa's chest clench involuntarily.

"Go home"

Akutagawa sternly told you as he took his hand back from your warm hold. You sniffed and nodded your head. But before you could part, Akutagawa shrugs off his coat to cover your shivering figure. You looked endearing in it despite the coat almost swallowing you whole. The evening was turning cold, and he figured he'd temporarily lend his coat.

"Thank you! What's your name?"

"Akutagawa. I want you to return my coat tomorrow and it better be washed"

Akutagawa demanded before turning his heel and disappearing. He visits the grocery store the following day to fetch his coat and to buy a few things, he was mildly surprised when you handed back his coat all washed and decided to pay for all of his expenses.

"Now we're even!"

You explained and he only scoffed. When he exited the grocery store, his face felt usually warm. Akutagawa found himself frequenting more at that grocery store, he'd pick up only an item or two so that he could get to talk to you. You look so happy to see him, and he starts to think that you only reserve that beaming smile for him. 

Akutagawa found himself conflicted with the complicated feelings he discovered when talking to you more. That contempt he usually had for your innocence was replaced with fondness. Suddenly, he's interested in your interests. He's invested in the little stories you tell him about your day. What the fuck is going on with him? Why is he suddenly hooked on you? You're nothing but an unremarkable woman and yet you flood his thoughts with your smile. You distract him with your laugh echoing in his mind. Why did you even decide to crawl into his life?

He convinces himself that he doesn't need you. He doesn't want to pursue a relationship with you. But to think about you seeking somebody else than him makes his blood run hot. What have you done with him? Akutagawa feels himself yearning painfully each day to see you. He's itching to find an excuse to see your face. He's finding reasons to justify his need to know if you're safe. For a violent man, Akutagawa has an urge to protect you.

He wants to know if he's the sole reason why you smile every day because the thought of you is enough to make him breathe properly. Akutagawa finds himself longing to be a part of your happiness, a kind of happiness that is so unique that you couldn't find it with anybody else. He wants to achieve that happiness with you because he's convinced you were made for him.

Imagine him and you, he does. He thinks about you day and night. It's only right to think about the girl he loves and hold her tight. So happy together. Akutagawa thinks if he should call you up, invest a dime. And you say you belong to him and ease his mind. Imagine how the world could be, so very fine. So happy together.

Yes, he'd want that. Akutagawa wants to be happy together with you. He can't see loving nobody but you for all his life. When he's with you the skies are all blue for all his life. You and him. Him and you. You and him, him and you.

Truthfully, you thought Akutagawa was an odd man. After he saved you that Halloween night, he's suddenly interested in getting close to you. Back then, he seemed rude or dismissive. You wondered what changed his mind. He was an awkward guy, you admit. He'd make attempts to start a conversation with you whenever he's purchasing something, but it comes across as stiff as if he has no idea what to say.

Although Akutagawa had a handsome face, he gave off the impression that he was hiding something. His pale and almost sickly appearance made him look he was not taking good care of himself. You assumed that Akutagawa was far from an average man considering that on Halloween night he effortlessly beat up a group of men. Ever since you returned his coat, the man seemed persistent in getting to know you.

Yes, Akutagawa did want to know about you more, that's why he decided to follow you to your home. He'd watch you moving between rooms from the outside of your windows. And when you go to sleep, he'll pick the lock from the backdoor so he can watch you sleep in your bedroom. If he felt particularly desperate, he'd caress your face during your slumber or steal used items that you own.

A month has gone by and you're starting to get creeped out by Akutagawa. Your skin crawled whenever you saw him enter the grocery store. His movements seemed calculating as if he was plotting something. And the gaze he would give whenever you'd scan his items sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were dark as he stared at you as if stuck in a trance. His hand would linger on yours whenever he'd give his money to pay, you can still remember how freezing cold his hands felt. He started giving you a smirk, your initial thought was that it was an awkward smile, he does seem the type who doesn't smile often. But the longer you thought about it, the more you were beginning to feel uncomfortable around him. But you'd convince yourself that Akutagawa was harmless.

Everyone at the Port Mafia notices how unusually violent Akutagawa is today. He was taking his time torturing and killing his enemies. He's eerily quiet too. It was as if something had deeply upset him. And something did, but only Akutagawa knew what it was. To think he bathed himself in romantic fantasies about you; to imagine the happiness he deserves with you, and to be convinced that your smile was only meant for him only to find out it was only one-sided. He got his heart violently torn into smithereens upon seeing you affectionate with another guy the previous day.

What makes that man more worthy than him? Why does he get the privilege of holding your hand when he was the one who saved you that night?! Akutagawa can feel the power of Rashōmon intensifying from his rising anger. He couldn't comprehend it for the first few seconds until the reality dawned on him. It was the cruelest thing you could've done to him, to capture his heart only to tear it apart. He couldn't stand it. In his eyes, you'll never find happiness if it wasn't with him. No matter what angle he looked at, Akutagawa was unable to see himself loving somebody else. His infatuation has grown out of proportion that it almost makes him delirious.

Akutagawa was a bloody mess both literally and emotionally. His eyes viewed the world as crimson as he traveled from the headquarters to that man's house, the one you showered your affections with. Rashōmon was on a rampage as he busted through that man's door and tore him limb by limb. He didn't register the brutality of the killing that he committed as he left and made his journey towards your home.

You received rapid knocking at your front door only to open it and reveal Akutagawa drenched in blood. Your body goes cold as you gaze at him with horror, a million terrifying thoughts race through your head. You staggered back, breathless and petrified as Akutagawa took a step closer.

"[Name]"

He calls out to you in a low voice. Instinctively, you tried to shut the door on his face, but his hand swiftly prevented it. You immediately made a run towards your stairs only to be stopped by Rashōmon grabbing you by the arm before wrapping itself around your body, restraining you. Tears prickled in your lash line as you tried to wiggle your way out of the restraint. You turn to Akutagawa and yell.

"Why are you doing this to me?!"

The man scowls as he reaches to grab your jaw with a bloody hand, effectively shutting you up. You whimpered as you bit your lip trying to hold your tears at bay. A part of Akutagawa felt his chest tighten at the sight of your glassy eyes, but he kept his stoic gaze.

"Don't think you can get away fucking with my emotions"

"What? What did I ever do to you?"

Akutagawa lets out a chilling laugh. He explains how he has fallen for you that Halloween night that he has saved you. He describes how much you have affected his life with that smile of yours. He tells you how you will only obtain true happiness with him. Because he will be the only one strong enough to protect you. He will grant you his endless devotion and you will give him the privilege of your affection.

"Me and you, and you and me. No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be. The only one for me is you, and you for me"

You and he must be happy together. Akutagawa leans close enough to your face that you can feel his passionate breath tickling your face. After everything that he has said, all you can think is how twisted this man is. You tearfully scoffed at him.

"I will never be happy with you"

You remarked. This stirs a violent reaction from him. He clenches his jaw as his grip on your jaw tightens, he merely holds himself back from slapping your face. Akutagawa's eyes bore holes into yours through gritted teeth.

"Then I'll make sure you will never be happy with anybody else but me"

His threat instantly etched into your brain, further inciting horror in you. Akutagawa was prepared to cause a bloodbath just so nobody could take you away from him. He would go to unspeakable lengths for you and him to be together, to be happy together. 

"You don't love me, you're... you're insane!"

"I do love you, [Name]. I can't see me loving nobody but you for all my life. When you're with me, [Name], the skies will be blue for all my life"

Rashōmon squeezes your body tighter slowly making it difficult for you to breathe. All you could do was gaze at Akutagawa scornfully through tears as his bloody hands gently touched your face, smearing the blood on your skin as he stared at you with a delirious smile on his face. His head was only filled with thoughts of you and him, him and you. You and him, him and you. You and him. Him and you. You and him... him and you. He was unable to register your bloodcurdling scream as he took you away with him.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone Part 8 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Enjoy this final chapter. I have a couple more ideas I can write out later down the line but :)

Enjoy!

Warnings: Dom Officer Steve Harrington/Gangster Eddie Munson & Doctor Sub Fem Reader, SMUT, overstimulation (slight), DP, use of "Yellow" stop light system (nothing dramatic; just the reader feeling like Steve isn't present), FLUFF, they all love each other <3

ANGST, if you read the last chapter you know what to prepare for, Steve is undercover with Allen's side of the Munson gang, Eddie does punch someone and Steve shoots someone, Mentions of reader worried about both boys (Eddie is losing people he thought he could trust and Steve struggles with his dark persona).

There is standoff near the end and someone gets hurt. Allen is a dick and constantly takes about his hatred for his son.

Word Count: 5656

Series here/ Donate to Me <3

“Ok, um, so what do you think? Does it look real?”, you ask as you step out of the bathroom in Eddie’s loft. 

Being a doctor, you knew what a knife wound would look like but you didn’t exactly have the toolkit to make it look too real. Steve glanced your way as he finished pouring the fake blood Wayne got for them online on the floor in the living room. 

“It, um, looks good. Almost too real.”

Softly smiling, you cup his face in your hands and kiss the officer’s lips.

“Hopefully the polaroid aesthetic will help sell more of the illusion so he won’t look too deeply at the image. Also…he’s a cocky idiot so…”, Eddie sighs as he comes over to kiss your forehead. “Alright, baby, lay down.”

Guiding you to the floor, you position your body as best you can with Steve, seeing many dead bodies himself, comes in to assist.

“Ok, honey, turn your head just like that and, um, keep your eyes open but kinda off…don’t focus on anything…there you go.”

As soon as he steps out of the way, Eddie takes a few pictures quickly before showing them to his boyfriend. 

“Yeah, that will be good.”

“Are you both sure you want to do this? I hate that you’re risking your lives for me.”

“No, baby. We’re risking our lives for each other so we can be happy.”, you gently smile as you rise to your feet and kiss his cheek. 

***

Steve stands off to the side with his arms folded as he listens to one of Allen’s subordinates nervously explain that more of his men had been killed by his son.

“I-I-It seems, Mr. Munson, sir, that he found Dr. Simon and got him to turn over the addresses of the m-men, sir, that he had helped take care of on our team.”

Allen chuckles before angerly slamming his fist against the glass partition between them. 

“Should have killed that little shit when I had the chance. Alright, thank you, Stuart. Let me talk to Steve here and then he’ll give you a ride back home so we know you got their safe.

After the man collects his things and runs out of the room, the officer takes his place with an annoyed glare painting his face. 

“Seems Eddie has gotten bolder.”

“Aren’t you his best fucking friend!? Advise him to stop.”

“Or what? You’re the reason Y/N is dead and now he feels like he has nothing to lose.”

“No, Y/N, is dead because she fell in love with my son. If she had chosen you or literally anyone else she’d still be here today. Fuck!”

“What do we do? Are you going to try and send another idiot after him?”

“Maybe…I do know this one hitman. He’s expensive but worth it if he can take that little fucker out.”

“What about Wayne?”

“What about Wayne?”, Allen asked with a sneer as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“If you kill Ed, he’s not going to stop until he’s made sure you pay for it.”

“I’m not afraid of Wayne Munson. If he wants to do something about it he can but I can’t have Edward continue what he’s doing.”, the criminal sighs before gesturing towards the man who had left. “Kill Stuart and then go back to my son’s place. Keep an eye on him and when I have something I’ll let you know.”

After nodding, he starts to leave before abruptly feeling someone at his side. 

“Can I help you, Mason?”, Steve growls hoping to intimidate him enough to make the guard go away. 

“I’m supposed to come with you. Allen wants me there just in case you need a hand.”

“I think I can handle one asshole.”

“Mhmm. You could barely handle a little girl, Harrington. I wonder why Y/N chose him over you. Personally, it’s because I think you’re twofaced.”

 “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t think you’re as dirty as you want Allen to believe you are. I think you’re still on Eddie’s side.”

“If I was on his side, why would I kill Y/N?”

“Hm, that I haven’t figured out. I did find the death record and there have been no signs of her at her clinic—”

“Wow. Now I know why you became a guard…because you’re so fucking smart.”, Steve rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll figure out what you’re up to, Steven. Sooner or later.”

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

You figured you’d have gotten use to this by now; the sound of Eddie punching and torturing people to get more information. You’d been hiding for almost two weeks in his loft while he and Steve were doing their part in your plan. 

The gangster had made a good dent in his father’s crew, taking out many of his loyal followers. Lately it had gotten hard for him because with every other man that was bound to his chair, a person he believed to be a friend would follow. 

“You know, Randall, this would go a lot smoother if you just told me what I wanted to know.”, Eddie sighed as he inhaled a puff of the cigarette between his fingers.

“Aw…what’s the…matter, Munson? Exhausted?”, the man sassed. 

“Of this back and forth, yeah, especially since I trusted you. I helped you get your fucking house so you and your family would have a safe place to be.”

“See, that’s part of the problem. You were to trusting and lenient.”

“I’m realizing that.”, he growls as his hurt eyes glance towards where you were sitting on the staircase. You offer him a soft smile that he returns with a small flicker on his lips before his gaze hardens again and he punches the man across his face. “Now, I already know about Craig and Lina. I just need to know what they’re planning.”

At that moment, Eddie’s door burst open and slams shut as Steve flies through with anger radiating from him. 

“He’s planning to hire Corleone to kill you.”

“Oh shit.”, Randall laughs. “You’re fucking screwed.”

Without warning, the officer pulls his gun and fires a bullet into the man in the chair startling you and the gangster as you cover your ears. 

“Jesus Christ, Steven. Was that fucking necessary?”

“Did you hear what I fucking said?! We need to leave NOW.”

Taking his face in his palms, Eddie tries to calm him but Steve just pushes him haphazardly to the side and runs past you up the stairs. 

“Whose Corleone?”, you ask as you watch him throw a bag on the bed and start throwing some clothes inside.

“He’s a contract killer my dad uses while behind bars. My understanding is he’s been in relative retirement for a few of years.”, Eddie sighs. “He’s so good and kept well-hidden that the only people who know who he is are his victims who are dead.”

“Even you don’t know who he is?”

“No. I did try and research into it when I took over but I never found anything. The only commonality between victims were that they crossed my father while he was in jail. I assumed it was a friend but nothing ever materialized.”

Your eyebrows scrunch in thought as you absorb what he’s telling you. 

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?”

“Is Wayne free?”

“Um, I can message him and ask. What’s running through your mind—”

“It doesn’t matter.”, Steve scolds sharply. “Because we are leaving. Here Y/N, put your things in this bag here. Not a lot though so we can move quick.”

“Baby, we have a plan—”

“The plan is done, Y/N! I don’t think you understand how serious this is. Even my department hasn’t found anything on this person but all we do know is he has a 100% success rate. And, what, you’re just going to figure out who it is with a hunch and a phone call?! No ma’am. Allen is done to the point that he wants to take out Eddie AND Wayne.”

“Excuse me?”, the gangster growled. 

“Ok, let’s all just take a breath.”

Roughly, the officer pushed his palm against your chest and shoved you towards the nearby wall. 

“Y/N, I’m done arguing. I’m done pretending your dead and that I hate the man I love. I’m done killing people and I’m fucking done being questioned by EVERYONE around me. I’m. FUCKING. Done! I will not come home to you both actually dead on the fucking floor. I can’t…I can’t handle that.”, his voice cracks before shaking his head and hardening his stance once more.

“Now… grab your shit because we’re going.”

As he tries to turn around, you run forward and wrap your arms around his waist as you press your head into his chest. 

“We appreciate everything you’re doing, Steve. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you both. You having to go into a headspace that isn’t you can be exhausting and I see how much it hurts Eddie with every ‘friend’ he loses. Even before I met you, Ed, I appreciated your ethics on the street than your father’s. Less people got hurt or worse… Sitting here day after day watching everything unfold… it seems like there were always two sides to that coin.”

That night you took care of them.

After Eddie and his team removed the body downstairs, you made a warm bath and massaged their shoulders as they calmly relayed the days information to each other. While making dinner, they both passed out in each other’s arms on the sofa reminding you of that first night they slept at your place. As quietly as possible, you made a call to Wayne who immediately got to work looking into your theory in regard to the hitman Allen was going to send. 

Once their bellies were full, they didn’t even wait for the table to be cleared before they were on you. You allowed them to use you as they maneuvered around the open downstairs area. Giving you time to catch your breath, you watched with heavy eyes from your spot on the floor as Steve placed Eddie beside you on his back and placed one of his legs over his shoulder as he guided his cock into the gangster beneath him. 

“F-Fuck, Steve.”

The officer didn’t waste a second, rolling his hips and pumping his length deep inside him. His humid breaths warmed Eddie’s face as he pressed his forehead against his own.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking deep.”, the long-haired boy whimpers as his palms run down the other man’s sides to his lower back. “I love you, Steve, so fucking much.”

“I love—mmm—I love you to.”

Chocolate eyes meet your own as Eddie turns his head and softly smiles. Your lips kiss his before gently trailing down his chin to his chest and along his tummy. With every scar you pass, you linger, giving it extra attention as you taste his skin. Allowing you space, Steve pushes up on his knees and watches you with lust fueled eyes as you tilt over one of Eddie’s legs to allow a long line of spit to drip onto his cock, lubricated him more as he thrusts his hips at a fast rhythm. The gangsters mewls turn to loud groans as your mouth wraps around his hard, leaking length and his fingers thread through your hair as your head starts to bob. 

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t… m’gonna fucking cum.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you practice what they taught you as you allow Eddie to hold you still and your throat constricts around him. While his release spills down your throat, Steve grunts above you and you feel his body sputter as he cums. 

“Goddamn, I need…I need a second.”, Eddie pants. 

Without even pausing or taking a moment to collect himself, Steve crawled over his partner and roughly gripped your thighs in his hands as he opened your legs wide. 

“S-Steve, baby, you just came.”, you giggle. “You’re not even fully hard. Take a break.”

Shaking his head, he spit into his palm and stroked himself as his eyes remained focused on your naked form. 

“Don’t need one.”

“Steve…” Ignoring your worried tone, he placed himself on top of you and his eyebrows furrowed as he grinded his cock between your dripping lips. “Steve, wait. Steve…YELLOW, STEVEN!”, you shouted when your normal pleas weren’t getting through. 

At the “slow down” trigger, he froze in place as Eddie rolled to face you both to make sure everything was ok. 

“What’s going on, baby? Tell me.”, you coo.

As soon as everything stopped and he allowed his mind to move, his eyes became incredibly glassy as his bottom lip trembled. 

“I’m scared.”, he whispered. “I’ve been tough and an asshole my entire life but…I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you two… and I’m scared I’m going to lose you…or myself.”

Your lips tenderly kiss his as the gangster reaches over to pet the man’s head. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you or hurt you—”

“No, no, Steve, you didn’t. We just need you here with us. We’re not going anywhere, right Eddie?”

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

Smirking, he kisses your lips and falls to your opposite side. 

“I think you’re right, sweetie. I think I need a break. Ed, why do you make her come undone.”

“You have to catch me first.”, you tease with a devious smile of your own as you turn around and run up the stairs. 

As soon as your feet touch the top floor, you’re lifted into the air by your waist by a strong, tattooed covered arm and you giggle as he playfully tosses you onto his bed. 

“You weren’t even trying were you?”, Eddie grins as his lips attach to your neck. 

“Nope.”

Biting your lip, you run your nails down his back as he picks up where his partner left off and subtly rolled his hips between your legs making you moan every time the tip of his cock grazed your clit. 

“Mmm—fuck—I love you, Eddie. E-Everything’s going to be ok. You don’t have to be scared either.”

As he tilts his head to kiss your forehead, Steve lays his body gently beside you both with his palm casually stroking himself as he watched your faces. 

“Are you ready for me, Y/N?”

“Y-Yes, baby, I’m ready.”

Clinging to his shoulders, his mouth fell open as he gradually slides his dick into your core. 

“Shit, you feel so fucking tight. I love you to, sweetheart. You’re always—fuck—always safe with us.”

As Eddie thrust his cock deeper into you at a steady rhythm, you listened as the man beside you tried to match his pace with his palm. 

“Fuck, I can feel you fucking clenching around me. Do…do you think you can take us b-both, pretty girl?”

After smiling down at you as you emphatically nodding, the gangster circles his arms around you and tilts you both onto your sides, lifting one of your legs higher up his hip. Steve grasped the meat of your cheeks in one of his hands and guided his length into your ass as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. As they pumped into you, they held you tightly in their embrace as they leaned over you to passionately kiss the others lips before finding purchase against your own. 

“I’m…harder, please. I’m gonna…”

Their fingertips dug into your skin, sure to leave bruises as they did what you asked. Your own digits tangled into Steve’s hair behind you as your other arm pulled Eddie into a tight hug as you screamed and groaned into his shoulder till they felt you cum between them. 

The gangster soon followed painting you walls before Steve did the same with a continuation of heavy pants against your skin.  

After hastily cleaning you and getting you into clean pajamas, they held you to them as you slowly began to drift. 

“We can still leave, sweetheart. We can follow Steve’s plan and run.”, Eddie whispered as he caressed your cheek with his fingers. 

“People still need you here.”

“If this whole experience has taught me anything, it’s that I need you both more than anything. I spent a lot of my life alone especially after my mom died. When I took over, I thought ‘I finally have a family.’ Not that I don’t appreciate, Wayne—”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“Do you remember that story I told about my dad catching me smoking one of his cigarettes? He said if I told the truth everything would be ok.” When you softly nod, he continues. “That’s how I feel right now with all this. I thought if I was honest and ran my business with respect instead of fear I’d be ok. Turns out I’m still getting my ass beat for being myself.”

“Eddie…”, you exhale sullenly as you pet his head and Steve’s arm slides over your hips pulling him closer. 

“But not with you two. You two are my family and like my Paladin said I don’t want anything to happen to either of you, princess.”

“I’m not afraid and I have a feeling tomorrow is going to go in our favor.”

On his bedside table, Eddie’s phone comes to life as his uncle’s display name flashes onto the screen.

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

The building Steve had been pacing in for over 2hrs had long ago been abandoned which is why he assumed Mason and one of Allen’s other lackies were supposed to meet him here. He was growing impatient as he constantly checked his watch.

A black van suddenly sped around the corner, tires squealing as it came to a stop. 

“Geez, Harrington. You look pissed off.”, the prison guard sassed as he jumped out of the driver’s seat. 

“You were supposed to be here at 11.”, he grumbled. 

“Yeah, well, we had to stop by and pick up something.”

After opening the side door, the officer’s eyes widened as you were roughly pulled out of the vehicle with your hands tied behind your back. 

“Y/N!”

“Ah, ah.”, Mason tuts as he points his gun towards Steve. “You move like that again and she dies. It’s so funny because I was pretty sure you told us she was dead already.”, he sasses before shaking his head. “I knew you were a fucking liar. Now drop your gun and kick it over to me.”

After doing as he asked, the officer raised his hands in the air as he watched your eyes flick towards the van. When Allen stepped out, his jaw tightened as he straightened to his full height. 

“Interesting. You’re not surprised?”

“I’ve seen a lot as a cop in this town.”

“Hm.”, he sighed. “Where’s my son?”

“Let her go first and I’ll tell you.”

You jump at the sound of gunfire before seeing the officer grab his shoulder and fall to the ground. 

“Steve!”, you scream as you jerk forward before a rough hand pulls you back. 

“I’m done playing games. Now where is he?”

“I’m right here.”, Eddie bellows with his hands raised to show he’s unarmed. His anger fueled eyes assess the situation before him as he comes up to place himself beside his partner. 

“Well, you healed up nicely. That’s to be expected I guess when you’re fucking a doctor. I bet she’ll be able to get that piece of shit up and running in no time.”, Allen responds with sarcasm as he gestures towards Steve. “You let me down, son.”

“Story of my life. And I’m not your son. Wayne raised me.”

“Hm. Good to know. That will make this easier on me.” Roughly, he reaches for you and unties your binds before pushing you forward. “This is your last chance, Edward. Kill her and I’ll let you and your friend walk out of here.”

“Why? Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“I have a sentimental weakness for my children and I spoil them…they talk when they should listen.” Eddie rolls his eyes as his father quotes The Godfather. “I guess there’s still some weak part of me like your mother that wants you to succeed and you can’t do that with her by your side. I became stronger after she died.”

“You became weaker, Allen. Mom kept you in check and helped hide a lot of the terrible things you did. She wasn’t even dead for whole year before you were arrested the first time. You thought you were an untouchable God but she reminded you that you were just a pathetic little man.”

Eddie’s father laughed under his breath, shaking his head before stepping forward and punching his son before tossing a gun on the ground beside him. 

“It has one round in it. Either you kill her or she kills you.”

“What?”, you ask with a shake to your voice as you try to help the gangster to his feet.

“Save your own life, Y/N, and kill him.”

“Fuck you!”

“If you don’t, I kill all three of you and be on my way. No matter what I win but at least with the outcomes I’m offering two of you can walk out of here.”

“How do I know that?”, Eddie asked as he spit some of the blood in his mouth towards his father. “How do we know she can trust you?”

“Eddie, no.”, you plead as you try to take his hand but he pushes you back.

“You don’t but no matter what I want you to believe that I can kill you, her, and that cop and not think twice about it.”

As they starred each other down, your brain went into overdrive as you continued to try and talk him out of this. 

“Eddie Munson, no! I can’t hurt you—”

“If you don’t then you’ll both die and I’m not allowing that. I told you, baby, you’re safe with me.”, he growls as he shoves the gun into your hand and takes a few steps back. “Please let them both leave here safely and you stay away from her. Tell this Corleone guy not to touch her or Wayne.”

“Oh don’t worry, son, I’ll make sure of it.”

At the term Eddie scrunches his nose before softening his eyes as he faces you again and stands up straighter. 

“I love you both so much and everything’s going to be ok, alright?”

“Eddie, please…”

“Y/N, I’m not fucking asking! Now you do what I say, little girl! Do you understand me!?”, he shouts as he opens his arms wide giving you an open shot to his chest. His eyelids suddenly flutter and you glance down to see Steve gripping the end of the gangster’s jeans. “My Paladin and my Princess…”, he chuckles as the tears begin to fall. “Remember… that first night when you saved our lives? It’s time to save yours, Y/N.”

“I love you.”, you whimper. 

As he gives you one final nod your way, you cock the gun and pull the trigger. 

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

“Well, shit. I’m not going to lie, princess. I didn’t think you had it in you.”, Allen snickered as he stepped forward, stopping when you pointed the gun his way. 

“Don’t call me that, you FUCKING ASSHOLE!” The man’s head tilted to the side as his face hardened. “Are you happy?! You got what you wanted! Now what?!”

“Now I continue to run my gang exactly the way I have been without anyone in the fucking way. I’ll make an example of him so people know what happens when you cross me.”

“What about Corleone? You promised him Wayne and I would be safe.” 

As he takes another step forward, you point the weapon his way and without hesitation Allen grabs your wrist, bending it till it falls loudly to the ground. Shoving you against Steve’s cruiser, he leans in till his face is hovering above your own. 

“Stupid, little girl. I’m Corleone.”, he grins as your eyes widen. “Come on. No one would suspect it being me since I’m stuck in prison. Since I met Mason, he’s helped me get out when I need to so I only save that for emergencies. Plus, people tend to listen when there’s a boogyman they can’t identify. Now…”

You watch him with disgust as he bends down to grab the empty gun off the floor. 

“…I’m going to keep this as insurance. I imagine you and your little cop friend there won’t be making any more trouble for me but I have to be prepared.”

As the men turn and start to head back towards the van, sirens wail loudly as multiple police cars and SWAT members appear with guns trained on them screaming forcefully for them to get down. 

“Sorry, Allen. I had to make a little bit more trouble for you.”, you sass as he glares up at you. 

“Doesn’t fucking matter. Eddie’s gone and—”

As if on cue, Wayne pushes through the little crowd of officers to get to his nephew.

“Are you alright, son?”

“OOOOWW… that fucking hurt way more than I thought it would.”, Eddie groans as you both help him to his feet. Opening his jacket and tearing at the hole in his shirt, he reveals the bulletproof vest underneath that Steve had provided him with. “Are you ok, sweetheart? You did so good.”, he praised as he cupped your face and kissed your lips.

“Excuse me. Officer down here.”, Steve teased as he winced, taking Wayne’s hand and rising to his feet. Desperately wanting to smash your lips to his, you refrained as you hastily checked him over. 

“You’re going to need surgery but you should be ok, Officer Harrington.” 

“You’re still weak, Edward! No matter where I am people are loyal to me and will do exactly what I tell them!”, Allen shouted as they started to push him towards a vehicle. 

Eddie’s fury filled eyes glare his way as he takes his place in front of him. 

“You know, I think I only have one good memory with you growing up and that’s watching those Godfather movies. When you abandoned me with Wayne, I could rarely if ever bring myself to watch them again. That’s why I never made the connection but her…as soon as she heard the name she knew something was off. Your mistake was hubris. You were so selfish and cocky you named your alter ego after your favorite fucking character in your favorite fucking movie.”, the gangster shakes his head in disgust. “After that we figured you were such a showman that we knew you would ask either Steve or Y/N to kill me.”

Eddie’s voice lowered as he stepped towards his father so only he could hear him. 

“Now Mason shooting the man I’m in love with as well was completely unexpected but don’t worry…we’ll make his punishment fit the crime. I have some friends to on the inside, old man. Enjoy solitary. You won’t be making any commands for a long time.”

As his father tries to attack him, the officer’s pull him away and shove him into a SWAT van.

“Good job, Dr. Y/L/N. We’ll get the wire from Steve at the hospital after his debrief.”, Detective Hopper congratulates as he shakes your hand and then Eddie’s. “You know it was really stupid of you and him to set this up by yourselves.”

“Y/N and I knew my dad was up to something and since Officer Harrington has been building a case against the Munson crew I thought this would be a good win for him.”

“Mhmm…”, the detective nods as his eyes scan him up and down. “With your dad’s confession, we can put a lot of unsolved cases to rest including a few you were a prime suspect in.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know why since I’m a businessman. I’m seriously surprised you’re a detective.”

Rolling his eyes, Hopper walks away from you two as you turn and beam up at the man you love. 

“Come on, let’s head to the hospital to get you looked at and once everyone leaves we can check on Steve.”, Eddie softly smiles as he pulls you to his side and kisses your forehead. 

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

One Month Later

“Oh, oh I know, baby. I know it hurts but you’re doing so well.”, you praise as you help Steve with his physical therapy stretches.

“Jesus, that’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”, he huffed as his palm reaches up to massage his shoulder. 

“Some of the things you could normally do seamlessly may be a bit harder from now on but it could have been so much worse.”

As your eyes drift and the officer watches you fall into the memory of that night, he softly smiles before lifting you in his arms and spinning you around before placing a tender kiss on your lips. 

“Hey, I can still sweep you off your feet so that’s all I care about.” After giggling at his antics, you turn around to grab his chart you had brought home with you from the clinic and began making some notes within. “When do you think I can go back out into the field?”

“At this rate, maybe a couple of weeks. Did they finish their investigation already?”

“Yeah. To be fair, the captain was more excited we were able to catch ‘Corleone’ to look too deeply into my connection with Eddie. He pretty much accepted the narrative that you and he came to me with information so I went undercover those two weeks. Hopper wasn’t happy but…”, he shrugs.

The loft door as Eddie comes through with a wide smile you hadn’t seen on him in so long. 

“Princess.”, he coos as he leans down to kiss your lips. “Paladin…oh shit!”, the gangster shouts as Steve grabs his collar and tugs him onto the couch beside you both. 

“Have a good day?”

“Yes ma’am. My father wanted to make an example of me but turns out he made an example of himself. Other gangs in the area have distanced themselves including the Carvers but Jason seems to have more respect for me now.”

“So does his father. George put more of an investment into my clinic and offered to help me expand to a bigger building.”

“How odd…because I have a surprise for you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrow when both men exchange a knowing look. 

“You’ve already done enough for me.”

“Uh huh. Close your eyes.” He only gives you a split-second warning before lifting you off the sofa and heading towards the front door.

When he places you down again, your toes curl at the feeling of tile beneath your feet and after seeing you shiver, Eddie takes off his jacket and wraps it around your arms. 

“Ok, open ‘em.”

Your cautious hues land on them first in front of you before taking in the environment around you. It looked like your clinic but bigger and cleaner. 

“There’s an upstairs so I thought maybe that could be for your regulars like Kylie and Gareth. He swears by you now since you saved his life and all.”, Eddie chuckles nervously as he continues to try and gage your reaction. 

“Plus, you’d be right next Munson’s building so he can come and check on you…make sure you’re safe. Of course, I’m never that far so you can always just call and I’ll be right here.”

As Steve gestures out one of the nearby windows, you look outside to find you are just across the street. 

“You bought me a building?”

“We’d buy you the world if you let us.”, the gangster replied without hesitation causing a little hiccup to leave your lips as the tears started to fall. “Sweetheart, you not only saved our lives but you saved our careers. You put my father in solitary so now he’s away from everyone and can’t dictate or hurt anyone for a long, LONG time.”

“You helped us not only take down a notorious hidden hitman but you got Jason Carver under control. You think you only help people by being a doctor but, honey, you just saved half of Hawkins. That deserves to be rewarded… You deserve so much more but—”

You interrupt the officer mid-sentence as you tackle your body into his and hug him tightly to you. 

“Ow, ow. Ok, not fully together yet.”, Steve chuckles as he lightly tugs your hair to tilt your head and kiss your lips. 

As you turn to do the same with Eddie, he hisses as his face scrunches. 

“Sorry, baby. I just…I had one more surprise.” Lifting up his shirt, he displayed his chest that now had fresh saranwrap around the tattoo he had on his chest. You had seen it so many times, the symbol of his gang with Steve’s initials nestled within but now your initials were right next to his. “It only took like five minutes but damn does it hurt.”

“You say that every time you get a tattoo yet you get another.”, Steve laughs. 

“Fuck, yeah I do—”

Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you kiss him and his smiles against your lips. 

“I love you both. You didn’t have to do this.”

“We know but we kinda love you to so—ow.”, Eddie laughs playfully when you lightly punch his arm. “Do you like it?”

“I do. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, baby. Now, it’s fucking freezing in here, I don’t have a shirt and you don’t have shoes. Let’s head back to the apartment and make Munson make us some Italian food.”

“I’m not that kind of gangster!”, Eddie yells after you two, rolling his eyes as Steve lifts you into his arms and carries you towards the door. 

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

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