#it's occasionally too hard a swing in the other direction

[chromegnomes]

gotta say the best thing about moving from Art and Game Dev Twitter to similar spaces on tumblr is that nobody is On The Grind here in the same way that literally everybody was over there

[ms-demeanor]

Hey nobody has asked me about this ADHD money management tip and it depends on having at least a tiny bit of flex in your budget but I'm about to spend a frustrating amount of money on flour and I can only do it because of this tip:

Hide cash from yourself like a squirrel.

Use whatever receptacle you'd like, envelopes or a zipper bag or an old wallet, create labels for the stuff you're saving for, and tuck money in there occasionally.

My stash lives in an old wallet with strips of paper around it. It's got dividers for "car registration," "bulk food," "vet visit," and a couple other things.

These are things that I know happen every year or multiple times a year that take more cash than I can easily spare from a single paycheck. If I stick twenty bucks a month in an old wallet it will mean that even if I have to pay late fees, I don't have to put my car registration on a credit card and pay interest on my late fees. If I stick ten bucks a month in an old wallet I can buy 25lbs of flour twice a year. If I can stick a bit more or less cash as it's available into the wallet I can make sure that my twice-annual regular vet visits with senior dog bloodwork and vaccinations aren't going to be too much of a hit to that month's grocery budget.

Like, everyone talks about "put money in savings once a month" or "have an account you don't touch for emergencies" and that can totally work if you can swing it, but I know it's REALLY hard for me to keep from pulling from the "emergency" fund for stuff that's a minor emergency/or is regular maintenance that I should have planned for/etc.

It's much harder for me to pull from the actual cash sitting in a physical room in my house because A) I'll probably forget it and B) that means that I have to think through using those funds in a lot more of a direct way than I would when using a debit card and C) I literally can't access it when I'm out of the house (the emergency fund HAS to be on the card to be accessible, the "i need expensive groceries" money doesn't have to be ready to go at all times and if it is available I know myself and it'll get used before it's expensive grocery time).

Like. If you know you have an expense that you have to pay for every year, hide cash specifically for that expense instead of in a general "expenses" fund because if you're not great with money and you've got an iffy memory you might look at your expenses fund and go "okay my computer crashed and there's five hundred bucks in the fund I can replace it and get back to work, cool" and there goes your car registration and a vet visit. At least if you need to physically grab that cash for an emergency you can make note of what you're going to have a deficit for later in the year.

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 6: Pup Cup

Masterlist

Summary: Simon unexpectedly runs into you... and your friends... and Tyler.

Warnings: dissociation, jealousy

It was finally Saturday - a Saturday where you had cleared your schedule, and so had Leslie and Nina. AND Tyler. Which was maybe once every two months. So, you had made plans to get brunch with the girls, the three of you deciding to dress up a bit and get mimosas. Tyler had promised to swing by around one to take you around the city, then to spend a cozy day at his apartment.

Right now, it was girl time. The three of you had your mimosa pitcher and a shared basket of fries, delving into each other's personal drama.

"And then Marcie asked me to pick up this Saturday - today, mind you - because she forgot the two interns were finished this Thursday. Of course, I told her no, in the most professional way I could - and she had the audacity to say I needed to pick up more slack. Me!!"

Nina scoffed. Your jaw dropped open. "You've been there the longest!"

Leslie nodded. "Longer than her, too! God, I could've let her have it, right then and there-" she sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Of course, I didn't. But I made sure she knew I would not be coming in on my day off, that I had planned for weeks."

You snapped your fingers in applause, making Leslie chuckle. "Bravo to you - we love seeing women fighting women in the workplace."

"Oh, stuff it." She laughed, swatting your hands away. "Feels like an episode of 'The Office,' if you ask me. Just too bloody insane to be real."

You hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of your mimosa. Your eyes wandered down to your purse, hanging from the side of your chair, your phone tucked away within. I wonder what Simon's up to... what does he do on his days off?

"Speaking of women in the workplace..." Leslie turns to Nina, who was scowling at her phone. "Who's got you so irate on a Saturday?"

"Idiots, that's who." She grumbled, furiously punching away at the keyboard on her screen. "It's as if the minute I take a personal vacation, everyone and their grandmother suddenly need a wedding planner." She sighed and tucked her phone back into her purse. "I'm sorry..."

You and Leslie shook your head, reassuring her that it was alright. God forbid she starts falling into the "I work so hard and get nothing in return" schpeel - which would be believable and understandable, if it wasn't for the fact that she played that card every time the three of you were together.

"Did you hear she started dog-sitting?" Leslie said, nodding in your direction.

That snapped Nina out of her own head. "You did? What does that have to do with your design work?"

You huffed. "Well, it doesn't - but, and I told you this, Leslie" - she laughed at your glare - "that I was just looking for a house-sitting gig, like what I did before I left that stupid company. Just until I got a few clients to myself, and could start my own business."

"Busy bee..." Leslie commented, and Nina nodded in agreement.

"Not nearly as you two - remember how hard it was for me and Tyler to have a weekend together? Now I'm the one waiting for him. He's even started coming with me when I take Riley for walks - just to spend more time together."

"How sweet..." Leslie cooed.

"Riley?" Nina asked.

"The dog." You answered. "She's a wonderful dog, really. Used to be military, before her... injury..."

You trailed off, staring at something between Leslie's and Nina's heads. They stared at you in confusion for a moment, until you beamed widely and started waving your hand. They turned to stare at whomever had caught your attention.

Simon wasn't one for "get-togethers," as he heard them called. He was perfectly fine spending his leave at home, only leaving to walk Riley or get his groceries and smokes. He'd occasionally text the team and see what they were up to, but other than that - he had no problem living like a hermit.

Soap was the one to suggest the idea of the team getting lunch together, since they were all nearby for work. Of course, Gaz was never one to turn down a group outing; once he was in, Price had decided they all might as well go. ("Should be a team off the field too, right?")

So that's how Simon had been forced to come out of his cave. And no, it might not seem like he was forced... but it would be rude of him not to go, so therefore, societal standards were forcing him. That, and Soap would bitch about him being a "bawbag" for weeks if he didn't tag along.

He decided to bring Riley with him, since it had been a few weeks since she had seen everyone. She looked around as she panted, walking besides Simon through the mildly-crowded sidewalk. It was a decent Saturday afternoon, with a mix of cloud and sun hanging in the sky. Simon wore his usual jeans and a sweatshirt, along with a black surgical mask.

He needed a head start for the day. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with his team outside of work... but people were exhausting, especially when he was forced into proximity with them. He needed a few hours to himself, in public, just to wake up his social battery. The best way to achieve that? Tea, Riley, and people-watching.

So that's how he found himself, next in line at the coffee counter of a restaraunt he’d been to a few times before. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he held Riley's leash; her head was on a swivel, sniffing the aromas that wafted through the air, and the occasional hand of each person who passed her. Simon was thankful people were wary of his presence - it kept everyone from trying to lean down and pet Riley without his permission.

The customer in front of him moved away from the counter, and Simon stepped forward. The girl behind the cash register smiled at him, wiping her hands on her apron.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"Jus' a tea. Medium, no sugar, no cream."

"Would you like the passionfruit tea or the mint berry mixer? Or our jasmine goddess?"

"... d'you have black tea?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, I'll get your black tea."

Simon huffed as he put his cash on the counter. Don' get why tha's funny...

He watched as she moved - rather sluggishly, he thought. Despite that her makeup did a fantastic job of hiding how tired she must have been, he could see it in her eyes and actions. The way she stood there, shoulders slightly slumped as she watched the hot water pour into Simon's cup, her arms resting heavily against the counter. He looked behind him briefly, noticing how long the line was for the cafe. Not to mention she had dine-in orders to fulfill, too... and she's alone at the coffee bar. He turned back, watching as she fought to make sure the lid was properly secured on his cup. It made him a bit nervous, how she supported nearly all of her weight onto the top. What if it crumples? What if she gets burnt? Is there a burn kit behind the shelf? Probably not-

Riley whined, snapping Simon’s attention away from the barista and down towards her. She licked her lips and stared up at him curiously.

She always knows.

He sighed, patting her flank. "Thanks, girl."

The barista returned with his tea, as well as a small cup of whipped cream with a dog biscuit poking out of it. “For your friend.” She said with a too-tight smile.

Simon stared blankly at the whipped cream cup. "I didn't order tha’.” He said bluntly.

“It’s on the house! Pup cups are free.” She said, nudging the two items towards Simon. “Don’t worry, there’s no added sugars in the whipped cream, and the treat is allergen-free.”

Why does everyone assume dogs have allergies? Simon thought to himself. He glanced at Riley for a brief moment – she looked back at him, certainly not expecting a treat, not yet. She’d hounded him enough for those goddamn biscuits all morning, the ones you’d been spoiling her with, and he had no choice but to follow the routine and gave her one. This created a cycle that sent him to the doggie-daycare once a week to pick up more, since the old woman who made them only sold them there. Without even intending to, most likely, you were taking more from his wallet than he had hired you for. Not that he minded… it was all for Riley, however, he was almost certain he’d buy a fucking parrot if you were the one convincing him.

Riley let out a garbled sound, making Simon realize he was still staring at her. And holding up the line. Shit, socializing was more taxing than he thought…

“Thanks…” he mumbled, grabbing his drink and the cup of whipped cream. He carefully directed himself and Riley through the crowd and over to the condiment shelf, setting both items down and adjusting his grip on Riley’s leash. He still had a few hours to kill; it’s a bit cramped in here, he thought as he grabbed a handful of napkins, eyeing the throng of coffee addicts and beatniks in the cafe, there’s always the bench by the fountain on Muller and 4th street, that might-

The sight of your familiar, perfect, sparkling eyes sucked the air and the thoughts from his body in a matter of a single second. That bright personality speared him like a harpoon as you waved from across the café, beckoning him over with a waggle of your fingers. His mind was trying to catch up after being knocked off of its feet, and he finally inhaled.

You looked equally surprised to see him - but he wasn't paying attention to that. He noticed your eyeliner and lipstick, how it made your features even brighter than they typically were. You'd worn your hair down, which was the first time he'd seen it like this since he hired you. Your nails were painted a soft pink, which accentuated the mimosa glass like an orange sunset across a blush sky... and your dress. Of course, it was bright and floral, just like your personality. But it was soft, too. The way it fitted so nicely around you - not too tight, perfectly settled around your shoulders and hips, making you look delicate. Simon was sure if he was to reach out and touch your arm, it would feel like he'd touched the skin of an angel.

He was too stunned to wave back, still frozen in the one spot by the counter as people flowed around him like river water around a stone. It wasn't until Riley had noticed you too and began whining that Simon finally gathered his bearings and nodded his head at you, stuffing the napkins in his pocket.

Two other heads swiveled around from your table and eyed him curiously, and for a moment, he groaned internally; you were with friends. Not horrible, but... not ideal. He didn't care to talk to anyone other than you at the moment – really, ever. Still, you were here, and that trumped all other factors. His anxieties moved to the sidelines when you were on the other end of the path. He clicked his tongue at Riley and grabbed his tea, carefully weaving through patrons and tables to get to you.

"Simon!" You chirped when he approached; you stood up and on your toes, reaching your arms to give him a side hug. He awkwardly stood there, attempting to hug you back by letting his arm curve around your upper back, careful not to spill his tea. Before he could stop himself, he took a deep, quiet breath in, nearly sighing at the smell of your perfume.

So floral and... sweet. Like the bookstore/plant nursery hybrid that he passes when he walks through town on his way for groceries.

You pulled away, and he straightened up. He was suddenly aware of the other two women staring at him.

"So sorry!" You said, turning to your friends. "Simon- this is Leslie, and Nina."

"’Ello." He said quietly, uninterested, and they each responded with their own "hi's". Leslie looked at him with a scrutinous stare, and he could feel her trying to peel him apart layer by layer. She looked like a corporate junkie, with her tight bun and high heels. Nina... she was... odd. She looked at him with her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes half-lidded... it made him uncomfortable. Both with the way she shamelessly ogled, and with how her eyes seemed to be a few unfortunate centimeters too far apart.

"And this is Riley!" You said, bending down and ruffling the dog’s fur. "How ya been, girl?"

She blinked at you as you pet her, sniffing the air between your face and hers. Her tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted, nearly smiling up at you if she could have.

"Ya gone and spoiled her." Simon commented, feeling something warm at the sight of you and Riley. "She wants me to tuck 'er in every day, now. And she's got me runnin' to the dog daycare every week for those bloody biscuits."

Leslie pursed her lips, thinking Simon was being rather rude. You laughed, sitting back down in your seat. "She wasn't spoiled enough, in my opinion. Did she drag you to Poeheko Park yet?"

"She did. Thought I's about to be mugged."

You laughed again. Simon wished he could bottle the sound and keep it in his pocket, so he could pull it out and listen to it over and over whenever he wanted.

"I don't think anyone could mug you, Simon." You said, absentmindedly stroking Riley's fur as she sat next to you.

So you thought he was strong? Invincible? Oh, that did something to him.

"What do you do, Simon?" Leslie asked, sipping her mimosa. "For work?"

Definitely corporate... he thought, from the way her question sounded slightly interrogatory.

"Military." He said bluntly.

Nina's lips curled into a smile; he chose to ignore it.

"Her too?" Leslie pointed at Riley, who sniffed her extended hand.

"She was..." Simon looked down at her, a bit pleased that Riley huffed in distaste at the 'stranger'. "Retired. And a rotten princess now, thanks to you." He turned back to you, his expression lighting up the tiniest bit.

You could sense something - what it was exactly, you couldn't put your finger on it. Simon seemed... tense. Uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't like being thrown into social settings with people he didn't know. You understood it.

"Well-" you said, trying to ignore the way Nina stared at him. "I don't want to interrupt your morning."

"You weren't." He said, still looking at you.

You sent him a glance, and laughed nervously. He continued watching you - God bless anyone who was ever in a staring contest with this man - as Riley sat next to him obediently. Fuck, she was staring at you too...

Leslie looked back and forth between the two of you for a moment, with you blushing furiously, and Simon watching you like you were prey - fortunately, she found an opportunity to come for your rescue.

"Oh, Tyler's here, luv." She said, tilting her head towards the space behind you.

You turned in your seat and smiled, just as a man came up and whisked you out of your chair. You threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, and he smiled as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Thought you were coming by around one?" You said, pulling back to look at his face.

"I was able to pick up the kit from work earlier than I expected, so I thought I'd come by now." He briefly waved at Leslie and Nina, tucking you into his side. "Sorry girls - lookin' lovely, by the way - but I'm stealin' her a bit early today."

Nina waved her hand dismissively. "We had something planned for tomorrow too; go right ahead." Leslie nodded in agreement.

Tyler smiled. "Perfect. Glad it's not too much of a- woah..."

He turned to look – to really take in the sight of the hulking, brooding man beside you, and he was very visibly taken aback. Simon's soft stare had turned into a cold, unforgiving glare. His eyes were hardened with - something. Maybe anger, maybe authority. He stood rigid and tall, with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, as he bore holes into Tyler's frame.

Simon took him in: soft, brown hair, a slight tan, rough hands, yet soft features. Slight wrinkles around the eyes from smiling too much. A white shirt and jeans, with a plaid – it made sense, now where your stash had come from.

He liked the way that Tyler was a bit intimidated, as evident by the look in his eyes. What he didn't like, was... Tyler. How he held you close. How you let him hold you. And how he himself felt the urge to snatch you from Tyler's grasp and march you out of the cafe.

"Oh, sorry-" your voice brought them both out of their trance. "Tyler, this is Simon. My client."

"Ah!" Tyler smiled, relaxing a bit as he held his hand out. "Nice to meet you!"

Simon grabbed it firmly, making Tyler wince the tiniest bit as he shook his hand. "Likewise." Not in the slightest.

When he released his hand, Tyler bent down to Riley and offered his hand for a sniff. "I know we've met before, girl."

Simon felt something stir in his gut as Riley sniffed Tyler's hand. "Y' have?" He asked, his voice a bit harsh.

"He's never been in your house." You said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. "He just tags along for the walks sometimes. Keeps us company.”

Riley IS the company. Y’ don’t need an extra, luv.

"Mm." Simon said gruffly, looking down at Riley. She was sniffing Tyler's closed fist, then leaning back to stare up at Simon. She huffed in distaste.

He fought the urge to smirk. Good girl.

"What do you do, Simon?" Tyler asked, trying to be friendly.

Nina cleared her throat. He's milita-"

"Special Armed Services." Simon interrupted. "Ten years."

Tyler looked impressed. "Shit- that's tough, mate. Makes sense with how you- y'know..." he gestured to Simon's frame, then dropped his hands and cleared his throat. "Eh, nevermind."

"I's fine." Simon replied, standing a bit taller. "What d'you do?"

"Ah- heh, nothin' that impressive. Electrician."

Simon nodded, though it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. It was hard to completely emasculate a man when he did blue-collar work. And even harder when Tyler seemed to respect Simon. It was one thing to be an asshole to an asshole, but it was another to be an asshole to a decent man.

He had to reign himself in. Tyler was your boyfriend. Why was he trying to show the poor lad up after knowing him all for a minute and a half?

"Well, erm..." Leslie cut in. "Looks like you two need to get going, and we're nearly finished here." She smiled at Simon. "It was lovely meeting you!"

"Yeah mate!" Tyler said. "Nice to finally meet you!"

Simon paused for a moment. Normally, he would love to be ripped out of a conversation like this - but now, he'd suffer through the company of a few, annoying strangers if it meant he got to talk to you. But, he obliged, sensing that Leslie wanted him gone for a reason.

"Yeah, likewise." He said, giving Riley a pat, then he looked at you. "Might need you t' watch 'er soon, but I'll email you."

"I'll keep an eye out for it." You said with a flashy smile. "See you later, Simon!"

He grunted and nodded his head, then left them all at the table. Riley stayed dutifully by his side as they made their way through the crowd of cafe patrons.

Simon tried to smell your perfume for as long as it would cling to his shirt. Soon, the scents of coffee, sugar, and teas washed it out, and the lingering warmth your scent brought him had also vanished. The bitterness came right back into his throat, coating his tongue and making him grimace under his mask and his fists clench in his pockets.

Tyler seemed like a good man, and you were happy. He had no business feeling so possessive over something that wasn't his - something that belonged to someone else. He felt like he was missing a screw - his emotions were completely out of control, and he acted compulsively when it came to you. He told himself, as he walked out of the cafe and into the busy sidewalk, that the disappointment of discovering that you were Tyler's would be a good opportunity to work on himself.

He sighed, continuing down the path to the pub. Riley huffed as she trotted next to him, and he suddenly remembered the cup of whipped cream and the dog treat – most likely still abandoned on the condiment counter of the restaurant. “Don’ worry, girl, you can have some’f Johnny’s chips.”

Next ->

[kaszuma]

Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.

[lustfulslxt]

Heyy hope your day going good I have a request for a Matt fic based on their recent pod they did with there parents basically when they were talking about how Matt was on the hockey team and he would get mad a lot maybe he has a game or something and loses it and he takes it out on his gf? Hope that makes sense

Take It Out - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : roughhhh sex

—

It’s around 6:30 and I’m already running late. Matt’s hockey game started ten minutes ago and I’m not even on my way to the rink yet. I know Matt’s probably upset about it, because I’m upset about it. However, I got stuck at work, and now I’m on my way home to pick up a gift bag I have for him.

We’ve been talking about this specific game for weeks now. They’re facing their rivals and Matt’s been practicing so incredibly hard. I know how important it is for me to be there for him, cheering for him.

I pull into my driveway and run inside, quickly gathering everything I need before running back out to my car. I toss it on the passenger seat, swiftly reversing and semi speeding to my destination. My nerves are on ten, I just want to get there to support my baby.

Upon pulling up to the rink, I hurriedly exit, leaving his gift bag in the seat and running inside. Once I give my ticket to the booth and they let me in, I swiftly make my way to the front, sitting in my reserved seat.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! Ugh, Matt is gonna kill me.” I exclaim, my face ridden with guilt.

“It’s okay, it was a late start anyways.” Marylou reassures me.

“Yeah, but he’s still upset. You can see it in the way he’s playing.” Nick says, making me frown.

He’s right, Matt’s game is off tonight. I can feel my stomach tighten at the thought of it being my fault. Sure, it’s just a game, but I know how much it means to Matt. I continue watching the game unfold in front of me, my leg anxiously bouncing with every passing minute.

The score’s 1-5, Matt’s team unfortunately down. I can visually see the frustration in him, he’s been extremely aggressive. He’s already been put in the penalty box several times this game, having been too rough.

Suddenly, Matt is checked by someone from the opposing team, crashing into him and resulting in a violent collision. I can practically see the steam coming from his ears. He jumps up and flings his gloves off, shoving the other guy into the wall, and throwing a punch at his face. A gasp leaves my mouth at the scene in front of me, my hands crossing at my chin.

“Jesus, Matt!” Nick shouts, tossing his arms up.

The two are quickly pulled apart and he’s once again sent to the penalty box. They’ve only got five minutes left on the clock, so it’s crucial that he’s on the ice to help his team. I watch as he anxiously paces back and forth, occasionally screaming through the glass as he watches the game play out in front of him. He then looks over in my direction, our eyes locking momentarily. I shoot him a smile, which he doesn’t return, and rolls his neck, something he does when he’s aggravated.

“God, he hates me.” I mumble, frowning once again.

“He doesn’t hate you. He just hates tonight.” Nick clarifies, reassuringly patting my knee.

I take a deep breath and nod, wishing the words to be true. I know he doesn’t actually hate me, but I would be surprised if he weren’t ridiculously upset with me right now. Though his feelings would be valid, it would still hurt. It’s not like I planned to be late, life just happens.

Once Matt’s two minutes were up, he quickly skated out, heading straight for the puck. Even if he were to make this shot, his team would still lose. They’re just too far behind to make it up in three minutes. As he chased after the puck, swiftly swiping it from his opponents, he began racing towards the opposite end of the rink, heading towards their goal. He swings his stick, hitting the puck and sending it flying into the goal. He turns around and throws his arms up, cheering. I can see the smile through his helmet. However, it quickly vanishes when he looks at the scoreboard and sees they’re still 6 points behind, just as the final buzzer goes off.

They lost.

I sigh, already knowing how the night’s going to go. As the teams exit the rink, I stand up, bidding goodbye to Nick and Marylou, and make my way towards the locker room, waiting for Matt to come out. Around ten minutes go by before he walks out the door. He looks at me, rolling his eyes, and continues walking towards the building’s exit.

“Seriously, Matt?” I toss my hands up, following after him.

He doesn’t say anything and just makes his way towards my car. Once we reach it, he tries to open the passenger door, but doesn’t succeed as it’s locked. He sighs loudly, rolling his eyes once again as he impatiently shuffles on his feet. I hit the unlock button and he opens the door, only to be met with his gift bag. He looks at it, then up at me, then back at it.

Without a word, he puts it in the backseat with his duffel bag, taking his place up front. I can’t help the deep frown that tugs on my lips. I knew he was going to be upset, but he doesn’t have to be a jerk. I silently start the car, waiting a minute for it to warm up, then pull out of the parking lot, heading for my house.

It’s tradition. After every game, he comes to my house and we spend the night together. Win or lose, it’s never been different. Though he’s never been this upset with me before, and I don’t even want to ask him if he’d rather go home. It could be selfish of me to want him to spend his time with me when he’s clearly mad at me, but I also want us to work through it.

It doesn’t take long to get to my house, and he’s getting out without a word, and grabbing his bag before making his way inside. Noticing he left the gift bag in the car, my frown deepens. I don’t understand why he’s being so mean. With a sigh, I retrieve the bag and follow him inside. Upon making my way into the living room, I notice him setting his bag against the wall.

“Matt, seriously! What the fuck is your problem?” I ask, finally giving in.

“My problem?” He asks, bewilderment taking over his face. “What’s your problem? You were supposed to be there.”

“I was there!” I exclaim.

He dryly chuckles, “Yeah, late.”

“But I still showed up! I’m sorry that I got held up at work, but I still showed up. Yes, I was late, but I still showed up. When have I ever not been there, Matthew?” I snap, already feeling frustrated with the audacity of him.

“You promised.” He mutters, his voice angry with a hint of sadness. “You were supposed to be there for the whole thing, and you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry, okay? But it wasn’t my fault! It’s not like I intentionally decided to come late.” I yell, before tossing the gift bag at him. “Here’s your gift, even though you’re far from deserving of it right now.”

I don’t spare him another glance, and I don’t wait for a response, I simply walk up the stairs, already ready for bed. I can’t believe him. He’s being ridiculous. Before I can even make it into my bedroom, I’m yanked back.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Matt says from behind me, his voice low.

With that, I’m spun around and his lips are slamming into mine, kissing me fast and hard. One of his hands holds onto the back of my head, the other one gripping my ass and pulling me closer to him. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, exploring every inch of it as I moan into his. I hate how easily he affects me, I’m always at my knees for him.

He pulls away from the kiss, quickly pulling my shirt off and attacking my neck with wet kisses. His teeth graze over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He backs away once again, frantically removing his shirt. He yanks me back into him, smashing his lips on mine once more.

Our lips are working together, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance, hands touching any and everywhere. His hands then reach my jeans, swiftly unbuckling them and tugging them down. To assist him, I kick them off of my feet. His hands then reach into the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down just as quickly. Once they’re discarded, he pulls his sweats off, leaving him in his boxers. I can see his hard on pressing against the fabric, constricted against it.

His lips are on mine again, his hand reaching in between my legs, feeling my bare heat. With a simple brush of his fingers, they’re now coated in my juices.

He pulls away and groans at the sight, “I knew you loved this shit. Such a whore.”

I can’t help but moan in response, him now rubbing my bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure through my body. His other hand massages my boobs, squeezing and tweaking my nipples. His fingers move from my clit, down to my entrance, pumping into me. The pace is slow and steady for only a split second, before his fingers are thrusting into me, fast and hard. My legs almost give out, so he wraps his arm around my waist, holding me up as he finger fucks me.

“Fuck, Matty.” I moan out, my face contorting in pleasure as the knot in my stomach grows tighter.

“Look at you, you’re eating this up.” He groans into my ear, “You love it when daddy’s rough with you, don’t you?”

I can only moan in return as he curls his fingers so perfectly. Unhappy with my response, he halts his movement inside of me, and his hand holding me up grips my jaw as he moves his face in front of mine.

His lips slightly ghosting over my own, he says, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, yes. I love it so much.” I admit, lewd moans emitting from my mouth.

“That’s my girl.” He grins, continuing to pump in and out of me.

With a few more thrusts, I feel myself lose it, giving into the pressure in my stomach. A loud moan falls from my lips as I let go, squirting all over his hand as he fucks his fingers into me. My breath hitches in my throat, feeling utter euphoria coursing in my veins.

As soon as he removes his fingers, he has both of my legs wrapped around his waist, leaving me to hold onto the railing behind me, my elbows resting on it. Without a word, he’s shoving his cock into me. A loud yelp escapes my mouth, and a guttural moan from his. Off the rip, his pace is fast, fucking into me so deliciously and hard. My boobs are bouncing from the force and I can’t help my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“F-feels so good, daddy.” I moan out, my breathing erratic.

“Mhm. Such a good little slut.” He groans out, his thrusts increasing in speed and strength.

The knot in my stomach returns, pleasure building up very quickly. I force myself to keep my eyes open just to take in Matt’s appearance. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked in his mouth. His torso is glistening with sweat, whilst his hair slightly sways with every movement, aside from the pieces sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed a rosy color, and his eyes are dark with lust.

Just the sight of him was enough to push me over the edge as I let go for the second time tonight. Pornographic moans leave my mouth as I tighten around him, feeling him pulsating inside of me. Me clenching around him caused him to shudder, immediately releasing his nut into me, fucking us both through our orgasms.

“Fuck, so good to me, baby.” He moans out, his thrusts coming to a stop.

Both of us are breathless, panting together as he pulls out of me, slowly letting me down, but still holding onto me, so that I don’t drop.

“That was-“

“I’m sorry.” He cuts me off, pulling me flush against him. “My team was shit tonight and I took it out on you when you did nothing wrong. Thank you for coming to support me, I love you so much.”

I smile, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll always be there for you, Matty. I love you so much.”

He gently kisses me on the lips, soft and slow, savoring the moment. He then picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, running in the direction of the bathroom.

“Come on. We need to shower.” He laughs, making me laugh in return as he’s not wrong.

—

a/n : so sorry this is so short!!! i hope it does the trick tho :( pls enjoy fr, send in more <3333

[teapartyprincess4two]

Shopaholic- C. Sturniolo

pairing: Shopaholic!reader x boyfriend!Chris

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, established relationship, high maintenance reader, some suggestive content, sexual comments but no smut, small argument, slight cursing, shopping addiction, consumerism, hoarder tendencies, Chris can drive in this (bc I feel bad for him)

summary: No matter how hard you try, you just can’t stop swiping your card.

—

Your shopping addiction began innocently, just you and your friends occasionally going out in search of a new outfit for a party or special event. Slowly it became a hobby and you were spending multiple weekends at the mall trying to find something new. After a while it became your job and you were posting fashion videos on Instagram for other girls to follow and selling clothes on Depop for people who wanted to dress like you. Then it became an addiction, all you wanted to do was swipe your card and you couldn’t stop.

You’re currently on one of your many shopping sprees with your boyfriend Chris who you’ve dragged along against his will. He loves spending time with you, but he really, really hates shopping. In his opinion you do it too often and spend too much money, but he’s not the type to yuck anyone’s yum. Shopping is also socially draining for him, every time he joins you he finds himself dreading every second of it.

He stumbles behind you as you enter the 10th store of the day, his hands struggling to hold all the bags you dumped on him. “Y/n, let’s go home!” He groans, adjusting the bags further up his arm. You ignore him, going straight towards the back of the store where the clearance is. Just cause you love to shop and spend money doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate a good deal.

Chris groans and trudges behind you, accidentally knocking over some of the displays as the bags swing back and forth. He remembers a time when you weren’t such a shopaholic, a time when spending time with you meant going to the movies or out to lunch. Now, ever since gaining this new hobby, all you two seem to do is shop.

“Look at this, Chris! It’s so cute!” You exclaim, holding a red top against your chest so he can imagine you in it. He can’t help but roll his eyes, “you have that exact top already.” You huff, looking at the top again. “Oh you’re right,” you put the shirt back on the rack and continue looking for the next item you’ll add to your closet.

Chris watches as you struggle to find something new, probably because you have everything already. “You have all of this stuff already, babe. You don’t need anything else,” he says, attempting to lead you out of the store, but you’re strong willed and extremely determined to find at least one thing.

“I haven’t checked over here though,” you respond, walking in a completely opposite direction from the exit. He groans in annoyance as you disappear to the back of the story again. He gives up, there’s obviously no getting through to you. So, he sits on a bench outside the store as he waits for you to finish.

Chris occupies himself on his phone, completely surrounded by shopping bags full of clothes that you were sure to only wear once or twice and then resell on your Depop. After 30 minutes you walk out of the store with another 5 bags in hand, a huge smile on your face as you walk over to Chris. He wants to facepalm at the sight of you because he still doesn’t understand your obsession with spending so much money.

“Okay I’m ready to go home now,” you say with a smile, standing in front of Chris as he grabs all your previous bags. Once he gets up, he gives you a quick peck on the lips and immediately leads you out of the mall and to the car. If he takes a second longer you might second guess it and enter another store. He absolutely couldn’t bear the thought of another hour shopping.

Once you’re finally at the car you both load your bags into the trunk, it’s so overfilled that you struggle to close it. You get frustrated and get in the car, allowing Chris to deal with the problem. He’s a little annoyed, but he’s mostly glad to be going home. He works his magic, moving some bags into the middle seat so he can properly close the trunk before hopping into the drivers seat.

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” He asks, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the busy streets. “Yeah, I can eat,” you reply, messing with the radio as you connect your phone to the car’s bluetooth. You were grateful that your boyfriend was so willing to spend time shopping with you despite it being his least favorite thing to do. So, you play his playlist for him in hopes that he won’t be too annoyed with you. One of his favorite songs blares loudly through the speakers immediately causing him to bop his head as he merges through traffic.

Chris turns the radio up, belting the lyrics to every song by heart. He is singing at the top of his lungs, looking towards you as he dedicates the lyrics of the love songs that play. You laugh, singing along with him when you know the words. Finally, he pulls up to his favorite restaurant, kissing you sweetly once the car is in park.

“We ate here last week,” you comment, grabbing all your things and shoving them into your purse. He sends you a warning look, a look that says ‘don’t start with me.’ A look that says, ‘I just spent hours carrying around your bags, let me have this ONE thing.’

You get the hint and put your arms up in defense, “You’re right sorry, babe.”

—

After eating, the two of you head back to your apartment. You work together to carry in the multitude of bags you accumulated throughout your shopping trip. Considering how late it is, most people would just dump everything near the front door and leave it for another day. Not you though, you’re too excited to try everything on.

Once you’re in your room, you immediately take everything out of the bags excitedly. Chris watches you attentively from your bed. You look like a kid on Christmas morning. He looks around your room, fully taking in the amount of things you’ve collected ever since acquiring this new hobby. He wouldn’t categorize you as a hoarder, but he can definitely tell that you have a shopping problem.

You sprawl all the clothes out onto the floor, crumpling bags and receipts in the process. Chris decides this is the perfect time for an intervention, “Y/n, you have too much stuff.” You look up from the piles of clothes in front of you, sending him an ugly look, “Chris, there is no such thing as too much stuff.” He rolls his eyes at your sassy attitude, getting up from the bed and walking over to your closet.

Chris opens the closet door dramatically, the slam of the door ringing through your room. Your closet is filled to the brim with clothes, shoes, purses, and you even have boxes labeled with seasonal clothes. “There is such a thing,” he retorts, not even looking into your closet because he knows his point has been made. You knew you had a problem, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from spending money when you found something cute.

“Babe you haven’t even worn half of this stuff,” Chris comments again with a laugh as he begins flipping through your closet. To be fair, you were extremely organized to the point that it felt like he was in a department store, but that still didn’t justify the amount of things you had. “That’s not true! Plus I’m selling some of it… eventually,” you mutter the last part, mostly because you don’t want to get rid of anything yet. “When was the last time you wore this?” He asks as he takes a random shirt off the rack, holding it out for you to see.

You get up from the floor, yanking the shirt from him dramatically. “I wore this on our first date,” you lie, trying to act offended. He rolls his eyes again at your attempt to pull at his heart strings, he knows you’re lying. “Y/n that shirt literally still has the tag on it,” he tugs at the tag, wagging it in your face. You could fool anyone, but not Chris. He knew you well enough to realize that you had a problem.

“Whatever, but I’m still going to wear it soon. I just haven’t found the right time. Plus I kept the tag on in case I want to sell it on Depop,” your words come out a mile a minute as you try to justify this addiction that’s gotten out of hand. He knows there’s no winning with you, especially not when shopping is involved, so he just sighs dramatically and goes back to his spot on your bed.

After a while Chris becomes occupied by his phone, not interested in the previous topic anymore. Since he’s not pestering you anymore, you try on all the clothes you purchased today. Occasionally you’ll ask him for his opinion on something, but he just gives you half-ass replies. Even if he thinks you look great in everything you try on he doesn’t say it because he can’t encourage this behavior or you’ll never stop.

“I’m tired,” he yawns, kicking his shoes off and turning his phone off, placing it on your bedside table. He has to balance it on top of all the other trinkets on your table. Chris was hoping you two would do other things tonight, but you were too distracted by all tour new stuff to care about him. “Sleep baby, I’ll be done in a bit,” you reply as you organize all the clothes into your closet.

Chris groans in annoyance, grabbing some of his spare clothes from one of your drawers. Even his drawer was filled with your stuff. Granted this wasn’t his house, but it was the singular drawer he had for himself here. He quickly changes, throwing his dirty clothes in a random corner of your room before going to the restroom to brush his teeth.

When he returns he finds you dressed and ready for bed. “You finally done being a princess?” He asks playfully, wrapping his arms around your waist slowly so he can pull you into him. You roll your eyes as you drape your arms around his neck, “a princess’s job is never done.” Chris chuckles at this, leaning in for a kiss.

—

“The movie starts in an hour,” Chris says as he walks into your room, taking a seat on your bed. You’re currently doing your makeup, adding all the finishing touches. “I’m almost done, I just have to do my hair,” you reply, popping your lips as you apply a thick layer of lip gloss. You’ve been getting ready for hours, how is your hair still not done? “It looks good like that, babe. C’mon we’re gonna be late,” he replies in a whiny tone as he attempts to convince you that the movie was more important than your hair. In his opinion it actually looked good, but he knows you won’t be easily swayed.

You give him a blank stare through the mirror, “Chris I CANNOT go like this.” You pick a few strands of hair up, shaking them in the air. He laughs at this, deciding to just let you have your way. “Fine, but be quick please.” He gets up for your bed, walking over you and kissing your cheek quickly before heading back to the living room.

After another 30 minutes you’re finally done, tugging your shoes on quickly and grabbing your purse as you rush out of your room. Chris was waiting for you patiently in the living room, the amount of patience that man has for you is astonishing. He takes a quick look at you and before you can ask if you look okay he says, “you look sexy, let’s go.” Of course he means it, but he can’t gush over your appearance for too long or you’ll miss the movie. You roll your eyes, following behind him as he rushes to the car.

You arrive at the movie theater 5 minutes before the movie starts, grabbing a bucket of popcorn and a large drink to share as quick as possible before rushing to find your seats. Despite the lack of time management on your part, Chris is still excited to be doing something that doesn’t involve walking around the mall for hours on end.

“You good?” Chris whispers to you during the middle of the movie, popping a couple of pieces of popcorn in his mouth. You hum in response, leaning in for a quick kiss. He tastes like salt and butter. When you break from the kiss he smiles at you before turning back to the movie.

In reality you were really bored. Chris chose the movie and has been excited to watch it for a long time. You wanted to protest and suggest a different movie, but he’s always putting up with your nonsense so you decided to let him have this one thing. You watch as the characters on screen engage in dialogue and you have no idea what the context behind it is. You look back at Chris, hoping to catch his attention, but he’s too immersed in the plot to notice.

You huff in annoyance, turning back to the screen and attempting to enjoy the remainder of the movie. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to find the movie interesting. Before you know it your hands begin to wander onto Chris’s thigh, lingering there for a while before slowly inching up towards his crotch. He sends you a warning look, squeezing your hand and placing it further back up his thigh. You repeat your actions, but are met with the same response from Chris.

Another huff of annoyance leaves your mouth. You’ll just have to watch the rest of the movie and pretend you know what’s going on.

—

The movie ends and Chris looks like he’s just watched the best thing on Earth. “That was such a crazy ending,” he comments, standing from his seat with the popcorn bucket still in hand. You grab the drink and do the same, holding his hand as he leads you out of the theater. “Who was that big guy? The guy at the end,” you ask, tossing the soda away.

Chris halts in his steps, turning towards you in shock. “The main character?! Y/n were you even watching?!” He exclaims in disbelief, the whole movie was about that specific character. “Oh right,” you reply, pretending to remember the entire plot of the movie. Chris gives you a dumbfounded look, tossing the popcorn bucket away. You smile at him, he definitely knows you weren’t paying attention throughout the entire movie.

He holds your hand as he leads you towards the car, both of you getting in and deciding on your next destination. The night is still young and you’re really hoping that Chris will take you to a new store you heard about. "Baby, there's this new store I heard about on TikTok. Do you think you can take me?" you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes and everything.

It doesn't work, "Y/n, no."

"Pleaseeeee. I promise I'm just going to look around, I won't buy anything, I promise," you plead as he pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving home. He doesn't budge so you decide to pull out the big guns, “I’ll suck your dick.” This seems to do it because he changes direction before replying with a quick, “fine.”

You’re now in the store, your eyes lighting up at the racks of clothes in front of you. Now that you’re in here you regret promising not to buy anything, it’s not like he expected you to keep that promise anyway. “I’m gonna go this way,” you say excitedly, dragging Chris along with you as you head towards the back of the store.

As you look through the racks of clothing, Chris is talking nonstop about the movie. Occasionally you’ll reply, but you don’t remember enough details about the movie to say anything worthwhile. You’re obviously not paying attention and after a while he becomes annoyed, “Y/n, are you even listening?”

You hum in response, adjusting the stack of clothes that was resting against your arm. “I am, baby. Keep talking,” you reply haphazardly, adding yet another shirt to your growing pile. Chris glares at you, but decides to continue sharing his thoughts on the movie.

You’re still not paying attention. He’s asked you at least 5 questions and has received nothing in response, not even a hum. “I’m going to wait in the car,” he says annoyed. You look up at him briefly with a small smile, “okay, babe. I’m almost done.” Chris rolls his eyes as he walks out of the store and to the car.

After an hour you’re finally done, walking out of the store with 3 bags full of clothes. Did you need any of it? No. Did you want all of it? Yes. You tap on the car window and signal for Chris to open the trunk. He complies with a straight face. You dump all your bags into the trunk before hopping into the passenger seat.

“Thank you for waiting,” you say, going in for a quick kiss. “Mmhmm,” he replies as he dodges you causing your kiss to land on his cheek.

“What’s wrong?” you ask innocently.

He doesn’t hold back, he doesn’t have to with you. “You know what’s funny? How I always do what you want to do and the one time we do what I want to do, the ONE time, you can’t even be bothered to pretend to care.” You two don’t make a habit of arguing, but your recent behavior has gotten out of hand. He feels like you’ve been so selfish lately and he has to get everything he’s feeling off his chest.

You’re about to reply, but he’s not done, “For once it would be nice if my girlfriend treated me like her boyfriend, not like a fucking butler. You only want me around to carry your damn bags and swipe my damn card.” That last part wasn’t true, you never asked him to buy you things, but the thought of him as your butler was slightly amusing.

You decide to stay silent, wanting to see how he really feels. “Like, can you at least try to pretend to care about what I have to say? You weren’t even listening to me in there! I get it if you’re bored, Y/n. I really do,” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “But don’t you think I get bored following you around the stupid mall all the time? That’s all we fucking do!”

You open your mouth to speak, but he still isn’t done, “It’s not like you need any more stuff anyways. You literally have a problem, Y/n!”

The car goes silent for a while as you wait just in case another rant was coming. It would be easy to get offended at Chris’s little outburst, but you understood where he was coming from. He was such a great boyfriend who always worked towards keeping you happy and you were ignoring him in the store.

“Are you done?” you ask with a small chuckle.

“Are you done?” he mocks. “Am I done? Yes im fucking done.”

The whole situation seemed ridiculous, especially considering that you two never argue. If this is the biggest problem in your relationship, it’s an easy fix. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t care,” you start, pausing in case he feels the sudden urge to interrupt. He looks at you expectantly, he knows he deserves an apology and if he deems it good enough then maybe he’ll apologize for being so harsh with you.

“Next time you don’t have to come shopping with me if you don’t want to and if it makes you feel better, I’ll stop,” you say, feeling a slight pain in your heart at the thought of never shopping again. “It would actually,” he mumbles with his arms crossed over his chest. He would never actually make you stop shopping, you were spending your own money and he had no right to tell you what to do with it. You chuckle at his sassiness before continuing, “and you’re right, I don’t need any more stuff.”

“Yeah, I am right.”

“Alright you’re pushing it, buddy,” you chuckle. He looks at you as he tries to hold in his laughter. “I was a little dramatic, sorry,” he admits, offering you an apologetic smile. “A little? You called yourself my butler.” He laughs again at this, but he goes back to his serious tone from before as he says, “Y/n, you actually have a problem though.”

“I know,” you reply in defeat. “Here just take it,” you hand him your wallet, looking away dramatically.

“I’ll hold onto this for safe keeping,” he jokes, putting it in his pocket. You were sure to go through his things later and find it anyways. He knows this won’t last and that’s okay, your shopping addiction isn’t actually harming anyone.

“As you should, my butler. Now take me home,” you command with a clap of your hands. He laughs, putting the car in drive. “You’re going to call me that from now on, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

This was sitting in the drafts for a while.

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[littlemissmiller]

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: you’ve been billy’s best friend since he came to Santa Fe. You two always got into trouble together, but lately he’s been distant. one night, billy gets into a fight after a poker game gets out of hand. he comes to you, hoping you’ll bandage him up without giving him anymore trouble than he’s already been in. as you help fix him up, you can’t help but notice how truly handsome he is and then, one thing leads to another…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), heavy fluff, smut, p in v , oral (f reviving) slight dirty talk

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: hello hello hello! i’m back with another lil spicy read. this one is so cute and fluffy and took me forever to write but here we are and i hope to get more out with the show being back. unfortunately I haven’t had time to watch the new episodes but i plan on it tonight. also i do take requests (i mainly write for pedro pascal and tom blyth, but I do a lot of other fandoms too so just ask.) so yeah…it’s a hot fan fiction summer y’all so get ready for the heat 🔥🥵 enjoy loves ♡︎

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

It is a warm night. The kinda night that smells fresh and ready for adventure. Billy’s favorite kind of nights. The kind of nights that Billy just loves to make memories getting into trouble. When you and him were kids, there was nothing better than sneaking out with Billy. Going out into town, sneaking into bars mainly, but occasionally the two of you would ride out into the hills, just to get a better view of the stars. Sharing a bottle of stolen liquor from the local boarding house, the two of you would gaze up, trying to count them all and connecting the dots into your own pictures and making up your own stories. You always had a soft spot in your heart for him, and truly felt as if that feeling only extended to a friendship. That’s what you told yourself anyways.

So tonight reminded him of one of those many nights he had shared with you. As he enters the saloon, he feels lucky and optimistic. But as he exits, he stumbles into the dirt pavement as he’s pushed back onto the ground by another patron.

“You’re a damn cheat kid!” A burly man yelled down at Billy

He spits the blood out of his mouth and glances his eyes back onto the man who hit him. He stands over Billy, his angry scowl growing on his face.

“I play fair. Can’t help you, can't take it on the chin like a real man.” Billy spits at him

With that the man moves in, running up to kick him in the stomach. Billy, quick as ever, turns over and runs back up on his feet. He holds his hand over his holster, ready to defend himself if need be, even though he was still practicing his quick draw in his mirror, he wasn’t a bad shot. The man strode forward, snarling at him, drunkenly raising his right hook. Billy easily avoided him, but suddenly another man grabbed his shoulder and he tried to wrangle himself free. The drunk man launches forward, aiming for his face, missing, but still landing a nasty punch to his stomach. He spits out more blood, but holds his head up. The man swings again, this time landing him square in the jaw. Billy could feel the cold metal of his ring as it grazes against his chin.

Billy grunts, the man holding him from behind knees him hard under his thighs and Billy decides he has had enough. In a moment of quick thinking, Billy kicks in the kneecaps of the man holding him, and he falls back. Billy whips out his pistol, and points it at the drunk man. The drunk man, seemingly not aware or afraid of the gun in his face lunges toward him, but in his drunken state, he falls down. Billy spits on him, kicking the dirt up in his face as he runs off, heading in the direction of your house.

Meanwhile, you’re still awake, deeply immersed in an old copy of Romeo and Juliet. The flame from your candle was slowly lulling you into sleep and just as you’re about to blow it out, you hear a rapid knocking on your door. You have a feeling you know who it is, but nonetheless you call out asking “who is it?”while opening the door.

Billy stands at your doorway, holding his stomach, bent over slightly. His lip is beat and bloody. His eyes look up at your own briefly as he whines in pain. You usher him inside and he limps in.

“Christ Billy, what happened?”

“Man couldn’t handle a poker loss.” He explains, reaching into his back pocket and lays down a wad of cash, about $10 worth.

“You won that?”

“Yeah. Gotta keep some money safe for my Ma. Those assholes were so drunk they forgot how to count chips” he groans, stumbling into your kitchen chair. He continues to hold his stomach in pain.

“They think you tried to cheat them?” You ask

He nods, wincing, his face scrunching up in pain. You rush over to him, kneeling at his side.

“Well, your ma is going to be in a fit if she sees you like this.” You say, fingers dancing across his jaw. You move his chin to get a better look at his swollen lip. Whoever had fought him, had given him.

“Yeah. Plan is to be out all day tomorrow. Let the swelling die down. But for now, can you help patch me up?” He groans

“Oh” you scoff jokingly

You stand up, smiling at him, and heading into your bedroom to grab a first aid kit. You were no nurse, but you knew how to help bandage him up enough so that you can make him look pretty again. It was hard to deny that your best friend is unbearably handsome. It wasn’t something you had noticed before, especially growing up, but this summer he had changed. His face had lost all its round baby fat, and his sharp features showed just how handsome he really was. You think it’s his eyes. They are a deep blue, and stand out from the rest of his features. They capture you and draw you into him.

Nowadays, every time you look into them you nearly drown. Your thoughts get carried away with the thought of him bare on top of you, those same eyes trailing down your body, admiring your beauty. You have to frequently remind yourself to think of other things.

You scurry back into your kitchen. You run over to your liquor cabinet, grabbing the highest proof whisky you have. You turn and kneel back beside him. You open the kit, and get out some bandages. You unscrew the cap to the whiskey and pour some of it on a cloth.

“I’d much rather just drink it.” He smirks

“Fine, but I still need to clean your wound.” You explain, dapping the cloth on his split open mouth. He winces at the sting of the alcohol. He pulls back in pain, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig.

“Fuck” he grits

“I know I know I’m sorry…just let me…” you apologize, dabbing under his lip and on his jaw where a fresh cut had been sitting on his chin.

“This cut? Did one of them have a ring.”

“I guess so.”

You sigh. He sounds so reckless. So careless in his demeanor. Yet, as you clean him off you can’t help but admire how smooth his skin is, how this closeness felt strangely intimate. The overwhelming feeling to kiss his perfect jawline was a temptation like no other. The way his beautiful eyes occasionally glances at you makes your heart melt, and your breath feels shaky. You calm yourself and refocus your attention back on his bloody face.

“Oh Billy…” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Ain’t my fault I’m a good card player. Ain’t my fault I’m young and better enough to beat them old men at their own game.”

“You just need to be more careful Billy. One of these days you’re gonna get really hurt.” You warn

“I can handle myself.” He quips

“Yeah apparently enough to go on adventures all by yourself now huh?” You raise an eyebrow at him

He scoffs and hangs his head, turning away from you.

“You know one of these days Billy you’re gonna get too ahead of yourself and get into real trouble. Real trouble you ain’t gonna get yourself out of. Then what?” You ask, cleaning up the last of the blood.

At this point, Billy was on the brink of losing it. Why are you giving him so much grief over this? A bar fight nonetheless? Something as naturally occurring as the desert heat in Santa Fe. Angry, you force him to look at you, turning his chin toward you.

He huffs, his breathing heavy.

“Do you really want your poor Ma to visit you in a jail cell?”

You take it too far. Even you know it. The moment the sentence spills for your lips it hits Billy’s ears like a ton of bricks.

“I just- I’m sorry I just…”

Billy grabs your hand, forcing it away from his chin and into your lap.

“No. You’ve said enough. I thought you were my friend. Why you talking down on me like you raised me?” He sneers

“Because I don’t want to see you hanging from a tree!” You shout

Billy’s eyes widen and yours fill up with tears.

“And one of these days I’m afraid that that’s the last I’ll ever see of ya! Since you like to run on your own now. I guess I ain’t good enough to tag along with you anymore either?”

“Is this what you’re mad about? I don’t understand you’re worried I’m gonna get myself into trouble, but you also want to seem to tag along. So which one is it?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Maybe I want to tag along to make sure you stay out of trouble.” You whisper harshly, holding back your sobs.

He hangs his head, sighing your name.

“Maybe I don’t take you anywhere no more to keep you safe. You know I ain’t nothing but trouble these days.”

“You say that like it’s written in stone somewhere. Like it’s meant to be. Why Billy? Why do you think you have to be no good?

“I don’t think I have to be, but if I wanna protect my family then I may have to do things I ain’t proud of…especially if I have to protect you…” he breathes

“What do you mean?”

“Ain’t it obvious, darling?”

You shake your head in confusion and raise an eyebrow

“No?”

He sighs and leans in.

“Because you mean everything to me.” He gasps and not being able to control himself any longer, he swiftly cups your face, dragging your face to his own and kisses you deeply. You moan in surprise, letting his soft lips consume your own. He pulls back all too quickly though, feeling guilty for being so bold. What if you didn’t like him like that? Then you nod and he smiles. His lips look so soft and inviting and you lean back in. You firmly press your lips against his, your hand clutching the back of his head, pushing him towards you. You run your fingers through his brown soft locks. You’re kissing him back, and seem to want more, which Billy didn’t expect.

“See you what I mean?” He mumbles against your lips, smiling.

You nod in response.

“Billy…” you whisper

“Yes, darling?”

You stand up and slide onto his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.”

“Me too, I thought maybe you’d reject me.” He smiles, gently rubbing your thigh, hiking your dress up slightly.

“Why do you think I was so upset with you? You smile and with his other hand, he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I was so distant, but now you know why I’ve been acting like you’re nothing to me. I’ve been a complete ass I know. Let me make it up to you?”

He leans in again as you nod. Now that your collective previously unspoken feelings have come to light, there is no holding back. For both of you. Billy moves more quickly, his mouth becoming more needy for you, and you love it. He pokes his tongue through, exploring your mouth. You let him in, wanting more of whatever he gives you. You can’t help but moan against his mouth and he holds your face tighter. You can barely keep up with him, it’s so apparent that he wants you based on the way he practically consumes you. Every kiss feels like a flame that burns your lips, seering the very memory of his lip on your own. You could do this for hours. Kissing Billy was one thing, but completely losing yourself in this messy, raw passion was another. He pulls back to look at you, capturing the moment and image of you to memory. You can tell he wants to say something, but you already know.

“I know Billy, me too…”

He smirks and places a quick kiss on your lips. He smiles, giving you the most goofy, boyish look. He rubs your cheeks in his hands, feeling ever so loved by him. He moved them to your neck and continues to kiss you. He moves his mouth slowly to your chin, down to your jawline and onto your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more space and he practically attacks you. You gasp as he moves his hands down under your dress and up your thighs.

“Can I?” He breathes

“You can…take me to my room first” you whisper, batting your eyes at him. He nods enthusiastically, waiting no time to swoop you up into his arms. Your legs dangle from the crook of his elbow and you hang onto him. He kisses your neck and jaw and he carries you into your bedroom. Once there, he sets you down on the bed and slips his suspenders off his shoulders. He starts to unbutton his shirt, then falls onto you, catching himself and caging you with his arms. He just can’t help himself. He wants to kiss you now that he has you all to himself. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, tossing it aside and dancing his fingers up to the strings of your dress. You admire his lean figure, his body so toned and handsome.

“Now can I?” He smirks

You nod and he starts to untie the front of your dress. His eyes meet your own, and you start to feel lost in the ocean of his irises. Once he loosens your dress he pulls it past your shoulders, his fingers dancing over your collar bone, following the delicate fabric as it falls down your body. He leans down, kissing the crook of your neck, shoulder and just along your cleavage. You grasp the back of his head, close your eyes and let yourself go under the touch of his lips. You start to slowly and quietly chant his name, fingers running up and down his neck as the sensation of his touch sends you into bliss. He smiles as he presses his mouth against your skin, soaking in the way you melt under him.

“Is this ok?” He asks

“Of course, Billy. Please, don’t stop…” you plea

He slips your dress down more, revealing your chest to him. He gaps in awe, starting to cup and knead your breast. He pinches the nipple before diving down and sucking. You arch your back in response, moaning and biting down on your lip. He swirls it around his mouth, before moving his lips to give the other breast the same attention. His other hand moves down to hike up your dress and he finds the lining of your panties. He looks at you again for approval and you mouth “yes” to him.

With that, he pulls them down and tosses them aside. He trails his fingers to your core, finding your heat and rubbing your clit. He is slow and you love it. He wants to take his time with you, show you how much he loves you and wants to please you. You spread your legs, knees drawing closer to your chest. He shuffles his body more in-between them. He starts to move his hips against you, excited at the idea of seeing you fully bare before him. You simultaneously shift out of your dress, Billy helping to pull the rest down. Once you are fully naked, he takes time to take you in.

“Christ darling, you’re a beauty.”

He rubs your hips, running his hands up to your waist and gripping tight. He pulls you forward as he slides down the bed onto his knees.

“Billy you don’t have to…” you breath

He kisses your thigh and smiles greedily.

“Believe me I want to. Let me?” He practically begs, doe eyes glimmering with desire.

You push your hips forward, readjusting to get closer to his face. You nod wordlessly and he kisses up your thigh. Once he reaches your core, he cautiously presses a kiss to your clit. You gasp, resting on your elbows as you start to feel your body relax on his tongue. He licks a curious broad stripe up your entire slit, before giving it small, precise kitten licks. Then, he wraps his mouth around it, sucking and pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Meanwhile, you let your moans and whines stumble from your lips. He loves it, your sounds of pleasure showing him just how much you wanted him.

At this point Billy feels drunker than whiskey off the taste of you, your juices a delicious, exotic, elixir to him. Like water in the desert, he drinks you up. He holds your thighs in his arms, massaging them while he moves his face as he also moves his tongue. You grab his hair, his soft brown lock tangling in your fingers. You also grab onto one of the hands grabbing your thigh. He glances up at you, pulling back for a moment to smile at you and appreciating your affectionate attention. You love the way he makes you feel and he can tell.

“Feels so good, fuck keep going…”

“So vulgar.” He smirks

“Are you kidding me, my best friend is eating me out and he’s doing a god damn spectacular job of it. How could I not let my tongue get the better of me.” You smirk, lips sliding into a satisfied grin.

“I’m still just your best friend…”

“Maybe a little bit more than a friend after tonight. Is that what you want?” You ask, dreamily

“Yes, darling, more than anything.”

He dives back in, lapping you up and greedily drinking your juices again. He’s almost animalistic as he moves his month, hands moving to grope your ass. You lift your hips to allow him. He moans against your core, needing more and more of you. He gives your clit a few soft kisses, then pulls back and climbs back on top of you.

As he does, he loosens his belt and starts to pull down his pants. He slides out of them, showing you the growing bulge in between his legs. He takes himself in his hand, stroking and you gawk at him. You had always heard that taller, leaner men had the real tools to satisfy a woman and it seems Billy was living proof. His cock was so long and thick, tip red and ready. He wipes the pre-cum along it, moving it down his shaft, slightly lubing himself. You love that you and him are bare like this and you readjust your hips in anticipation. He licks his hand then places it on your pussy, swirling his fingers.

You clutch his biceps, mouth agape as he rubs your entrance with his tip.

“Please…” you beg

He slides in, stretching you out perfectly.

“Mmmm oh fuck, you’re so perfect wrapped around me.”

He sinks in deeper and deeper until he hits your cervix. You let out a loud groan, adjusting to his size. He cups your face, going back and forth in between your beautiful eyes and the place where his cock meets your entrance. He moves his hips slowly, afraid that he might hurt you. After a few thrusts you start to feel your pleasure return, and you ride your new wave of ecstasy. He feels so incredible, his length filling you up so perfectly and as he speeds up, you feel overwhelmed. The rhythm of his cock so relaxing and mesmerizing, it almost lulls you to sleep. He notices and kisses you.

“Fuck Billy, I wanted you like this so bad.”

“Me too, so fucking bad.”

He quickens his pace, giving you more of him and you smile against his lips. You let out a few breathy laughs and he rocks you on the bed. He keeps going like this for a while, kissing you and admiring your beauty.

“Maybe we should withhold our feelings from each other more often, because I don’t know about you but admitting your love for me like this feels incredible.” You mumble

“Mmm I could be in you all night.” He responds

“I have no quarrel with that.”

Billy and you both share a small, quaint laugh and he rolls you over. He starts to sit up and his lips lock with your own. He starts to move your hips and in return you pick them up and bounce. He pulls back, gasping and watches you as you move on him. He utterly transfixed on how your waist and hips move smoothly, how your tits bounce, and how elegant you are. You’re made for him. He moves his hand up and down your stomach and you steady yourself, placing your hands around his neck. Tempted by the way you move on him, he pops one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking at your flesh. He pulls your nipple into his mouth, making you groan and clutch his head.

“My god how did you get to be so perfect?” He questions

“Am I perfect?” You snicker

“More than that, if even possible.”

“Now you’re just being nice” you huff

“Not true darling, not true at all.”

Before you can protest, his lips silence you. Billy pumps into you, lips refusing to leave yours as he feels you clench down on him. You’re close and you cling to him as he sends you over the edge.

“Oh Billy, Billy, you’re gonna make me…you’re gonna make me cum…1fuck!”

He nods into the crook of your neck and you feel yourself becoming undone. You writhe on top of him, arching your back and letting the euphoria overtake you. You reach a peak then slowly come down, catching your breath as you do. He flips you over, eager to satisfy his own needs. He pumps his length into you, messily, his actions becoming more and more sloppy. You can feel he’s close.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum on your stomach okay?” He informs and you nod.

A few more pumps and then, he pulls out. Strings a warm, white cum spill onto your stomach and even up to the valley of your breasts. He rubs himself as the last few drops spill from his tip. He catches his breath, looking around for something to clean you off with. He reaches over on the night stand and takes the towel from inside the wash basin. He cleans you up, then kisses you softly.

“I love you. I always have.” He whispers

“Me too Billy. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

꧁✩★✩꧂

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part XIII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, hurt/comfort, abuse, panic attack

Words: 7627

The clash of swords echoes in the corridor of the dungeons, accompanied by occasional grunts and thuds of fallen combatants.

After several minutes of seemingly never-ending waves of assailants, Natasha is growing more and more frustrated.

Her current attacker lunges at her with a swing, but she smoothly parries the weapon out of their hand, countering with a swift and hard kick to their midsection, causing them to crumble to the ground.

After defeating some already, Natasha quickly recognized who they were. 

Dreykov’s soldiers 

The person she just defeated was the same one who had refused her access to see you earlier at the gates of your manor. 

At the thought of you, her eyes glance over worriedly to the wall where you had disappeared behind. 

When she recovered from being knocked back and realized that the man had you in his grip, she rushed to you, but the trap door closed before she could reach you, slamming shut in her face. 

Before she could even attempt to find the switch, the sound of the door breaking from above, followed by several rushing footsteps, propelled her into this current fight.

“Natasha!”

Clint’s warning abruptly pulls her from the memory just in time to dodge a swing from another attacker. 

They suddenly cry out in pain when an arrow pierces their shoulder from behind, and with a quick sweep from Natasha, they fall to the ground.

Another person falls unconscious nearby, and Natasha directs her attention to the other person helping in the fight.

The old Stark captain now stands free from his restraints after insisting to her that he could help.

Bucky notices her glare and then glances towards where you were taken before returning his attention to her.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” he tries to reassure her.

But his comment just makes her clench her teeth in anger, seeing how he’s part of the reason you decided to come here in the first place.

Now she’s separated from you and uncertain of your current condition. 

Natasha turns away from him, directing her anger to the rest of the attackers in the room instead. 

“This is going on for too long,” she determines, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword.

In the next moment, the corridor echoes with the impact of bodies hitting the ground one after the other. A web of lightning-fast strikes incapacitates the remaining members of the ambush, leaving them sprawled across the floor, defeated, until only one remains. 

With the final assailant rushing at her, Natasha swiftly evades his attack, grabbing his arm and expertly flipping him over her shoulder before slamming him to the ground with a resounding thud. 

As the dust settles, Natasha stands and sheathes her sword before swiftly moving back over to the wall to search for the trap door switch.

Clint makes a sound of amazement behind her as he steps around all of the unconscious bodies to reach her.

“Glad to see your skills are still as impressive as ever, Your Highness,” Clint compliments as he approaches her.

Natasha doesn’t respond. Instead, she focuses intently on searching the wall, her hand running quickly along the grooves of the cold stones. 

After finally finding a small loose stone, she presses it in, but nothing happens. 

Frowning, Natasha tries again, harder this time. 

Still, nothing moves. 

Frustration rises in her, and she slams her hands against the wall in anger. The sting of pain on her palms does nothing to distract her from her racing thoughts of concern for you.

She needs to figure out how to open this stupid door quickly before anything bad happens to you.

“There should be another switch on the ground that needs to be pressed at the same time,” Bucky’s voice calls from behind.

Natasha turns her head slightly to him before quickly refocusing her attention on the stone floor. Her foot sweeps along the surface until a loose stone caves slightly under her pressure.

Looking up, Natasha narrows her eyes at Bucky in suspicion. 

“How did you know?”

Next to her, Clint raises his bow, pointing an arrow at the old captain, waiting for his response.

Bucky raises his hand in innocence before shaking his head lightly in confusion, appearing slightly unsure himself. 

"I don't know. It’s…just that I’ve seen this before, I think," he replies, grimacing before giving her a genuine look. “I swear I’m not trying to trick you.”

Natasha shoots him one last suspicious look before gesturing to Clint to stand down. She then returns her focus to the trap door — getting you back safely is her priority before worrying about anything else.

With one foot on the stone on the floor and a hand on the one on the wall, Natasha presses both of the switches simultaneously.

A distinct clicking sound echoes as the wall begins to turn.

Rushing through the opening, Natasha enters the dimly lit space, calling your name.

“Y/n?!”

Immediately, Natasha notices the subtle change in the room's pressure when she takes a breath. Something in the air feels heavy, and a light wave of dizziness seems to cloud her thoughts for a brief moment. 

Shaking off the feeling, Natasha concentrates on searching her surroundings and finally spots you standing at the far wall.

She immediately moves to run towards you.

“Stay away from me!”

At your shout, Natasha slides to a sudden stop, hearing the fear in your voice.

As she processes your words and realizes that it was indeed directed toward her, she feels her heart tighten painfully in her chest. 

Then she watches as you step back and press yourself further against the wall behind you as if you’re trying to be as far from her as possible, and her heart breaks even more.

“Just…stay away…,” you plead, your voice comes out in a shaky whisper.

Recognizing your panicked expression—the same one as your panic attack at the cemetery— Natasha quickly brushes off her feelings of hurt and composes herself so that she can concentrate on helping you.

She takes a moment to examine you for any injuries before her eyes drift down to the ground where two bodies lay nearby. 

Seeing their identities and conditions, understanding fills her mind as she returns her attention to you, meeting your eyes with a gentle reassuring look.

But you immediately break from her gaze, looking down at your bloodied hands, trembling.

“I-I didn’t…” you say unsurely, your breathing increasing rapidly.

“Y/n, look at me.”

Her words don't seem to reach you since you don’t make any movement, your gaze fixated on your hands as you continue to mumble under your breath.

Natasha’s brow pinch in concern and she tries again, louder this time.

“Y/n!”

Your head snaps up and meet her eyes in shock as if remembering her presence.

“Just…focus on me,” Natasha says gently, making a show of taking a few slow deep breaths.

After a hesitant moment, you begin to copy her, inhaling and exhaling shakily.

Nodding in encouragement, Natasha takes a tiny step towards you. 

Your eyes watch her cautiously, but you don’t tell her to stop this time. 

She takes another step.

Then another.

Again and again.

Until she stands just an arm’s length away from you.

Seeing your fearful expression, Natasha wants nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and comfort you, but she understands that’s not what you need right now. 

Instead, she extends her hand out towards you in invitation. 

You glance at her outstretched hand, patiently hovering between the two of you, and then at your own, trembling at your side.

The sight of the dark red remaining on your palm causes you to instinctively clench your hand in an attempt to hide them. 

Returning your gaze hesitantly to Natasha, you check to see if she has noticed them too, but her expression shows no change from before.

There’s just warmth and trust in her eyes. 

Warmth and trust.

And something more.

You finally recognize that unspoken emotion that fills her gaze now and all the times before – an overwhelming and unwavering boundless devotion towards you.

With that realization, you bring your hand slowly to hover above hers, and with one last glance at her for assurance, you close your eyes and let it fall.

Natasha’s hand closes around yours without hesitation, wrapping it in her warmth.

A moment passes with no movement or sound, even the whisperings of Madam B’s voice seem to disappear from your mind. 

Your eyes snap open when you realize that nothing else happens, and immediately, you rush into her arms.

Natasha wraps her arms around you, enveloping you in her embrace. 

With your head tucked into the crook of her neck, you begin to explain frantically against her skin.

“S-She said she was going to make me do it again. To kill you.”

But your words don't scare her away. 

Her concern is only on one thing at the moment. 

Natasha’s hand moves up to hold your head tightly against her as she releases a breath of relief. 

“You’re okay…thank god, you’re okay,” her lips whisper against your head. 

Natasha feels you still trembling slightly in her arms as you murmur something repeatedly against her skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you…I don’t…”

Hearing this, Natasha tightens her arms around you in response and tilts her head down next to your ear, whispering reassuringly, “I know.” 

She continues confidently, “I told you, Y/n. I know you would never hurt me.”

You shake your head slightly against her, still unsure, but you don’t say anymore, choosing to focus on the comfort of her warmth instead.

After a few minutes of silence, Natasha presses a light kiss on your head to get your attention before telling you gently.

“We need to get out of here. There’s something in the air.”

Raising your head from her in confusion, you concentrate on the atmosphere in the room. 

Only then did you notice the subtle shift in the air, like something pressing down in your mind. You’re sure you didn’t realize this at first due to the shock of Madam B’s unexpected presence. 

At the reminder of the woman, your gaze shifts to the bodies on the ground, lingering on the one whose actions hurt you the most. 

You never had the chance to confront her for betraying you last year. She was already exiled by the time you recovered. 

Looking at her lifeless eyes, you can’t help but feel a pang of sadness even though you know she was only using you.

Madam B. had been a constant presence in your life since you were young, strict and harsh at times, but still, at least she was there, always by your side.

Now she’s gone.

You want to look away from the person she has revealed herself to be and leave with the few good memories of her that you have left, but you find that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. 

With her arms still around you, Natasha maneuvers her position, shielding you from the grim scene, and her concerned gaze silently asks if you are okay.

The sight of her reminds you of what it truly means to be by someone’s side. 

To actually care for someone.

And the bitter truth is Madam B is not one of those kinds of people in your life.

Maybe she never was.

With a small, sad smile, you give Natasha a reassuring nod, allowing her to guide you towards the opening of the trapped door. 

As you move with her, something catches the corner of your eye – a drip from one of the torches on the walls.

Curious, you pull away from Natasha to investigate, her footsteps following close behind.

“Y/n?”

Another drip falls slowly, creating a small puddle on the ground. 

It's unusual; torches typically burn the oil that coats its end. They shouldn't drip like this. 

Taking a breath, you realize that the air around the torch feels significantly heavier too.

Intrigued, you catch the next drop on your hand, examining it carefully – you know you’ve seen this before. 

“Come on, Y/n. Let’s get out of here.” 

Natasha takes your other hand and guides you the remaining distance out of the Red Room as your mind races with realization.

Once in the dungeon corridor, you show Natasha the substance.

“This is your mom’s serum,” you exclaim in disbelief at the existence of the supposedly banned substance.

“What?” Natasha asks in confusion. “How did she get it?”

The memory of Madam B's words emerges in your mind of how you were molded to be her spy, and a sense of shame forms in you.

“It was me,” you reveal sadly, looking down in regret. “Your mom showed me the formula once. Madam B. must have gotten it from me.”

Before you can fall into your feelings of self-blaming guilt, Natasha tilts your chin up to meet her eyes, offering a reassuring grin. 

"All I hear is that my mom showed you the formula before even me," she teases lightly, trying to lighten the mood. She lets out a tiny amused chuckle, “I told you that you’re her favorite.”

You give her an exasperated look and shove her lightly for her teasing during this dire situation.

She catches your hand, keeping you close, her expression turning serious.

“You’re not at fault for any of this,” Natasha states firmly. “Madam B. is the one who used the serum, not you.”

Glancing back to the Red Room, you begin to piece together what Madam B. meant by her new quick method of control.

“If she was dispersing the serum into the air, then breathing this in would bring it directly into a person’s system, making them susceptible effectively in a short amount of time,” you explain to Natasha before your eyes widen in realization. “That’s how she could implement control on many people so quickly.”

Alarm and question fill Natasha’s expression at your words. 

“Which people?”

“Like Oksana,” you explain, recalling another piece of information she mentioned before urgently continuing. 

“Natasha, there are more like her. Madam B. said that some lord came here earlier and took everyone.”

"I know who," Clint interrupts, emerging from the Red Room with documents in hand. 

He hands them to Natasha with a serious look.

"The idiot signed his name and everything."

Natasha skims the contents of the note on the top.

Prepare the rest of the subjects. I’ll use them to take care of the princesses outside. Everybody else is in position at the castle. 

~Lord Rumlow

“Well, it doesn’t get more incriminating than that,” Natasha comments with a roll of her eyes, passing the paper for you to see. 

"That traitorous little…he’s trying to go after you," you exclaim in outrage.

Natasha nods in acknowledgment, connecting together all the new information.

“So, some of the kingdom’s guards are being controlled. And with the security meeting happening soon, they’re now inside the castle, unknowingly waiting to be a part of an ambush on my family.”

You give the note back to Natasha, continuing her train of thought. 

"Except Rumlow must have found out that you snuck out, so he came here to pick up more people to go after you."

“And Yelena,” Natasha adds, frowning slightly.

Clint waves his hands in disbelief. 

"Wait, Yelena’s outside the castle too? Where is she now?"

You give Natasha a knowing look, already guessing the answer without her help.

“Kate’s manor,” you respond. “That’s not going to be hard for anyone to figure out soon.”

Natasha sighs in agreement before straightening confidently, her demeanor shifting to one of determined resolve.

"Okay, then. Clint, you head to the castle to warn Steve and my parents. Also, see if you can find Fanny to help identify the controlled soldiers among our own," Natasha commands.

“Yelena’s dog?” Clint asks incredulously.

Natasha nods. 

“She was able to sense people being controlled before. There was the time with the man in town and then again with Oksana at the festival.”

“And with me,” you add in realization, giving Natasha a confirming glance, amazed at her deduction.

“If you say so,” Clint says, shrugging before nodding at Natasha.

“What about you two?”

“We’ll go get Yelena and regroup with you back at the castle afterward to help.”

Clint grimaces at Natasha’s response. 

“I’d rather you find someplace to hide until this is over, but I know you won’t.”

Natasha smirks, about to respond, when you touch her arm to get her attention. 

From the regretful and determined look on your face, she already knows she won’t like what you’re about to say.

“Natasha, I have to go back for the twins.”

“You can’t,” she denies, her head already shaking vehemently in refusal during the middle of your sentence. 

She gestures to the unconscious people on the ground around her. 

“His guards weren't even afraid to attack me. Who knows what he’ll do to you if you go back.”

“She’s right. Dreykov is most likely a part of this or at least knows about the plans. Going back to your manor now is dangerous,” Clint warns.

“Which is why I can’t just leave them there,” you argue. 

“Then I’ll come with you,” Natasha insists.

You shake your head firmly. 

“There’s not enough time. You need to get to Yelena first.”

Natasha’s expression twists in conflict as she tries to come up with a solution to ensure the safety of everyone she cares for. 

You watch as her brows pinch further in turmoil, and you know that the both of you know the inevitable truth – there's no other option. 

Gently cradling her face in your hand, you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to listen to your next words carefully.

“This is what I was telling you before, Natasha. You can’t choose me this time,” you remind her softly, each syllable heavy with the weight of the decision.

Her features contort with a blend of anguish and realization as the harsh reality sinks in that she can’t always protect you.

“I’ll go with her,” Bucky's voice breaks the tense silence as he steps forward from the entrance of the Red Room.

Natasha whirls around to face him, suspicion evident in her gaze as she responds firmly.

“Absolutely not, you’re not getting anywhere near her.”

Bucky's lips quirk into a wry smile. 

“No offense, Your Highness, but I am not exactly under your command.”

“We could just lock you up again,” Clint interjects. 

Undeterred by the threat, Bucky's gaze remains on her, unwavering as he counters, “Do you really want her to return to him without any backup?” 

Natasha's fists clench in frustration, but you intercede, taking her hand in yours to soothe her rising anger and return her attention to you.

“It’s fine, Natasha. Let him help,” you reassure her, your tone calm yet insistent.

“I don’t trust him,” Natasha says, her voice tinged with apprehension as she leans closer to whisper to you. “He was acting strange earlier.”

You steal a glance at Bucky, recalling Madam B’s cryptic words about how she had dealt with him earlier. With that information, you understand and also share Natasha’s reservations about his current state of mind.

However, these guards must have been sent here for him which suggests that Bucky may be expected back at your manor eventually. At least by keeping him close, you can monitor his actions and be prepared in case anything does happen.

Besides, Madam B. did teach you one final important piece of information before she passed that may be able to help you.

With this confidence, you offer Natasha a reassuring smile.

“I have an idea if something happens,” you assure her. 

Natasha's expression remains hesitant and apprehensive, prompting you to gently clasp her hands together in yours.

Bringing them up, you place a delicate kiss on her fingers before meeting her gaze with pleading eyes.  

“Trust me,” you implore softly.

A flicker of worry crosses Natasha’s face as she looks at your serious expression before she slumps with a resigned, heavy sigh.  

“Okay, okay,” Natasha relents reluctantly. “I trust you.”

Resting her forehead against yours, she gives you a determined look.

“But after I get Yelena, I’m coming for you right after,” she declares firmly. 

Brushing her nose gently against yours, she whispers the next words against your lips in a promise, “And afterward, we’re finishing that conversation between us, without any more interruptions.”

A small smile forms on your face as you gaze into her eyes and see the unwavering certainty of her words.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “It’s a promise.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The hurried ride back to your manor was spent in relative silence with only the patter of rain and the rhythmic beat of hooves to accompany your journey.

It is only when the two of you arrive at the gates of your manor does Bucky speak.

“How are you holding up?” he asks as the two of you dismount your horses.

You give him a questioning look, prompting him to clarify.

“It’s not every day one finds out that she is a missing royal.”

Irritation rises in you when you realize he was bringing up the topic that you wanted to ignore.

Dealing with being kidnapped as a baby and a lying, false father aside, you honestly have no desire to involve yourself with any of the specifics of your real identity.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” you state plainly in an attempt to end this topic quickly. “Dreykov will get what he deserves for what he did but after that, I have no desire to reclaim any title.”

Bucky regards you with an unreadable expression before remarking calmly, “Nonetheless, it’s still a part of your birthright that he took you from. Whether you like it or not, you are a Stark royal by blood.” 

He pauses and then adds with a grim look, “You don’t belong here.”

His last words make your hands clench into fists as you grasp the implications.

However, accepting the reality of being a Stark, being the rival of the Romanov kingdom and the past enemy of Natasha’s family – that is not a role that you want.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you declare resolutely.

There’s a beat of silence before Bucky responds.

“As you wish.”

His formal response makes you frown in annoyance, and you turn to him with your arms crossed.

“Are you just saying that because of who I am or because you want to?” you ask accusingly.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about the subject anymore,” Bucky says, giving you a pointed look.

You let out a small frustrated sound at his deflection by throwing your words back to you.

“Listen, I know you’ve served the Starks all your life, but like I said, I am not your princess that you need to obey,” you assert firmly. 

He observes your serious expression for a moment, as if in thought, before giving you an acknowledging nod.

Seeing that you won’t get another response, you refocus your attention on your manor. 

It looks different than ever before, devoid of staff and now most of the guards. The once homey space appears haunted as the two of you enter through the gates.

Bucky walks ahead of you, searching the area for any potential threats. 

“We’re looking for that boy from before, right? The one that defended you,” he asks over his shoulder.

You hum in acknowledgment, adding, “And his sister.”

After checking that the entrance is clear, Bucky moves to open the door.

“Wait just a moment,” you stop him, getting his attention as he turns to look at you in question.

“Before we go in, there is one thing I need to ask of you.”

He stares at you intently in silence, waiting for you to continue. 

You don’t know what lies beyond this door, but one thing is for certain. 

“If it ever comes down to a choice between me or either of them, I need you to help them first,” you tell him, your tone serious.

His eyes scrutinize you, contemplating his response before asking plainly.

“Is this an order?”

“A request,” you state firmly, giving him a slight glare. “Those two are innocent, just caught up in the middle of my problems. That’s why, no matter what happens to me, they come first.”

You wait as Bucky stares at you in silence, his expression unreadable. Eventually, he gives you a nod as if coming to a conclusion.

“Understood. Then you have my word.”

His formality causes you to grimace in displeasure.

“Your word as the previous captain of Starks?” you ask bitterly.

“As a friend, Lady Y/n,” he corrects gently, his tone a touch warmer and more genuine than before.

You blink in surprise before giving him a slight nod.

“Thank you…Bucky.”

As you two step into the manor, an eerie and unnerving silence greets you. 

Undeterred by the ominous atmosphere, you take the lead, swiftly moving through the halls towards your room.

You hope that Pietro and Wanda are safe and waiting for you there, and perhaps, Wanda has regained enough strength by now to move. 

Peeking around one corner, you feel a wave of relief when you spot the familiar shade of dark brown hair. 

Wanda tiptoes down the hallway, with her back to you, her movements purposeful and stealthy. She checks each room of the manor with care, gently opening doors and peeking inside before continuing on her search.

Emerging from the corner, you begin to approach her.

However, at the sound of your footsteps, Wanda whirls around in alertness. 

For a moment, you catch a flash of red in her eyes before they quickly return to their normal color once she realizes it is you.

“You’re back!” Wanda exclaims in a hushed tone, her posture relaxing as she closes the distance between you.

Fussing over her, you gently hold her face in your hands as you examine her.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she responds honestly, gently stopping your fussing by holding onto your wrists.

You nod and release her face, instead grasping her hands for assurance of her safe condition.

“That’s good. Because we need to leave soon. Where’s Pietro?” you ask, searching the area for any signs of the other twin.

Wanda shakes her head, giving you a worried look.

“I don’t know. He never came back. I was just looking for him.”

You frown at her words, about to question her further when her eyes shift warily to some movement behind you.

"Who's he?" she asks cautiously.

Turning, you see Bucky standing there, patiently waiting. 

Recalling the idea that you formed from Madam B’s information, you call out to him.

"Bucky, can you go and search ahead?"

He nods in acknowledgment and quickly leaves to scout the halls, disappearing around the corner.

“The criminal, I presume,” Wanda states with a small frown.

She didn't agree with your initial decision to meet with Bucky, and seeing him free beside you now only adds to her disapproval.

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to change her distrust at this time, so you nod in confirmation before changing the subject.

“Do you remember all the research I’ve been doing this past year?” you say urgently. 

Wanda nods. "Yes, for a cure to prevent you from being controlled."

"I have an idea, but I need your help," you say, raising her hands in yours before continuing, “I need you to use your powers on my mind.”

"What? No!" Wanda pulls her hands away, hiding them behind her back.

"Wanda, please.”

She shakes her head. 

"I don’t have much practice using my powers like that," she insists, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"Then this is a good opportunity for you to try," you urge.

"Y/n, be serious,” she chastises, fidgeting with her hands nervously, “It could be dangerous. I don't know if I can control it."

You reach out to grasp her hands firmly, reassuring her, "You can do this, Wanda. You are a lot stronger than you think.”

Wanda gives you a disbelieving look, but you return her gaze with one of confidence and trust. 

"I believe in you," you say honestly.

After a hesitant moment of contemplation, Wanda eventually slumps in resignation. 

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks.

“Search my subconscious. See if you can find something that feels out of place – invasive. Then try to form a barrier around it,” you explain your idea.

“Like blocking it from being active?” Wanda questions.

“Or stop it completely,” you say hopefully.

Wanda nods in understanding. She then takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

When she opens them again, they glow red, mirroring the light mist that forms around her hands.

The mist drifts slowly towards your head, before stopping suddenly a small distance away. Wanda's expression shows a mix of concentration and concern as she stares at you.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” she asks cautiously.

“I promise,” you reassure her.

She swallows nervously, relenting with a soft, "Okay.”

Her power continues on its path, finally touching your head, and a warm and gentle pressure enters your mind as Wanda's essence envelopes you completely.

There's no resistance from you as she searches your subconscious.

After a moment, she finally speaks again, her face pinched in concentration.

“I think I almost have–”

A sudden shout of pain reverberates through the halls, causing your eyes to snap open in panic, the connection between you and Wanda interrupted, fading until it disappears completely.

Your heart races as you recognize the source of the sound: Pietro.

Without hesitation, you dash towards the sound with Wanda following close behind.

Arriving at the staircase leading to your floor, you are frozen in shock at the sight before you. 

There, lying at the base of the stairs is Pietro's familiar form, his silver hair now streaked with specks of dark red.

“Pietro!” Wanda's panicked cry breaks the silence, propelling her past you towards her brother.

Her call snaps you out of your daze, and you rush to Pietro's side, kneeling beside Wanda as she cradles his head in her lap.

A groan escapes Pietro at the movement, a sign of consciousness, but the sight of his battered face and body extinguishes any relief you might have felt. Bruises, already darkening, cover his features, and dried blood coats his skin.

You reach out to touch his face gingerly to examine his wounds, but he winces away in pain. One of his eyes is swollen shut, while the other struggles to open, half-lidded as he gazes at you. 

Despite his injuries, he manages to muster a weak attempt at his usual playful smile when he sees your pained expression.

“I’m…fine,” he coughs out, his breath shallow.

“Pietro, you can barely open your eyes,” you whisper in horror.

“Ha…am I still good-looking?” he teases, though his voice comes out more strained than playful.

Wanda lets out a disbelieving huff, tears glistening in her eyes. 

“You look terrible.”

A pained smile flits across his face as he closes his eyes to take in a shaky breath. 

“Careful, Wanda, your face is the same as mine.”

“Pietro, what happened?” you ask, needing an explanation.

“Dreykov’s men caught me…they tried to get me to tell them where you had gone,” he says with a wry chuckle. “Guess they didn’t like my sarcastic answers as much as you do.”

You hold back a wave of emotion and guilt as you gently brush his hair back from his face.

“You should have just told them what they wanted to know,” you chastise, “Then maybe Dreykov wouldn’t have hurt you this badly.”

Pietro lets out a tiny scoff, shaking his head slightly.

“As if. The bastard didn’t even have the guts to hit me himself,” he reveals before succumbing to fits of painful coughs, blood trickling from his mouth.

Panicked, you look to Wanda, telling her urgently.

“Wanda, he needs help!”

She shakes her head helplessly as she examines his condition, her hands clenching and unclenching with uncertainty.

“There is no one else here. The closest person to a healer is at Lady Kate’s.”

You glance back down at Pietro, his breathing shallow and labored and his eyes closed. He's in no condition to move, and without medical help soon, you don’t know how much longer he can survive.

Running through the options in your mind, you realize there is one way you can give both of them a chance to be safe.

“You need to go, Wanda,” you decide firmly.

Wide-eyed, Wanda stares at you, bewildered. 

“What?”

“You need to go, now,” you repeat urgently, gently taking his head from her lap to cradle in yours. “Get to safety and send help back for Pietro.”

Wanda rises slowly at your command, but she doesn’t leave, torn by indecision as she gazes at the two of you, unwilling to abandon you.

As you’re about to desperately plead with her to leave quickly, a reprimanding voice booms from above, sending a shiver of fear running through you.

“This wouldn’t have happened if only you had just listened to me.” 

You turn and lift your gaze to find Dreykov standing at the top of the staircase, his eyes filled with disdain as he stares down at the three of you.

Gesturing to the guards beside him, he adds, “I thought I told you to finish off the boy.”

At his words, the two guards start to descend towards you, and you instinctively tighten your hold on Pietro’s body.

Rage boils within you as you glare at the approaching figures, likely the culprits behind Pietro’s condition.

��Don’t you dare!” you threaten, your voice laced with an angry intensity that startles even the guards, who hesitate and look to Dreykov for further guidance.

Using the momentary distraction, you turn to the frozen twin behind you.

“Wanda, go!” you exclaim urgently.

Your command snaps her out of her daze, and she begins to back away.

“Grab the girl,” Dreykov orders with a bored wave of his hand.

As his guards continue their descent, you brace yourself to intervene, but suddenly, a cry pierces the air from behind.

“Let me go!”

Whirling around in surprise, you see Wanda trapped in a chokehold, not by one of Dreykov’s guards, but by Bucky.

His eyes now stare blankly ahead, devoid of emotion, as he maintains a tight grip on Wanda. It’s clear that the person in front of you is no longer in control.

“Finally, someone who listens to my commands. I should’ve just done the same thing to you imbeciles,” Dreykov comments, his footsteps echoing down the steps, followed by the sound of consecutive slaps, likely aimed at their heads.

Wanda continues to struggle against Bucky’s hold, but his larger form keeps her in place, squeezing the breath from her throat.

“Wanda!” you call out urgently, catching her attention. With a meaningful look, you mouth to her, “He’s like me,” hoping she grasps your implication.

Understanding dawns on Wanda’s face as she turns her head as much as possible to study Bucky, her own eyes beginning to glow red. 

A rough hand suddenly seizes your hair, yanking you upright and forcing you to face Dreykov as Pietro rolls from your lap with a small groan. 

His guards flank you on both sides, holding you in place. 

Meeting his gaze with a harsh glare, you notice a flicker of surprise in his expression.

“Now when did you develop the courage to have such a fierce and hateful look in your eyes?” Dreykov asks curiously. 

His gaze shifts down to Pietro on the ground, and a satisfied smirk creeps across his face. 

“You really should’ve taught your pathetic servants to follow orders better. I never understood why Madam B. let you keep two of them.”

He nonchalantly extends his foot to move Pietro’s face in examination. The disrespectful action further increases your anger as you struggle against the guards' grips. 

Pietro grimaces in pain, prompting Dreykov to shrug indifferently before refocusing on you.

“Well, I guess you’ll only have one soon enough.”

Suddenly, a groan of pain erupts behind you, and you turn your head to see Bucky doubled over, clutching his head, while Wanda staggers on her feet, free from his grip and staring at her hands in shock.

You lock eyes with her, giving her a proud expression and an urgent nod to go.

With one last worried glance at Pietro, Wanda gives you a reassuring nod and quickly disappears into the halls.

One guard releases you to chase after her, but you swiftly trip him with a well-placed foot. The other guard, caught off guard by your sudden movement, loses balance, allowing you to push him away while also grabbing his dagger at his side. You rush to Dreykov, bringing it to his neck.

As you hear the guards behind you begin to recover, you demand angrily, “Tell them to let her go.”

Dreykov meets your gaze with an unbothered expression, his demeanor unaffected by the threat against his neck. 

After a pause, he rolls his eyes and issues a command to his guards.

“Leave her. She can’t do anything. Just another orphan to add to the streets that will die sooner or later,” he dismisses callously.

He then looks down at the dagger in your hand and raises his brow to you.

“Now, is this any way to treat your father?” Dreykov reprimands.

“You don’t get to call yourself my father!” you exclaim vehemently, your voice filled with contempt.

There’s a tense pause as his eyes narrow at your words before his expression relaxes into a smirk.

“So, you finally found out the truth,” he remarks, raising a finger at you.

“You know, there were moments I doubted whether you really were their child. I thought the Starks would have had a more intelligent offspring, something similar to that first prodigal child of theirs.”

His words sting as usual but not as much now that you know how truly evil the man before you can be. 

“You’re despicable,” you seethe with disgust. “What kind of person kidnaps a baby from their parents?” 

Dreykov's smirk widens, reveling in your anger.

“Consider it a consolation to me for their part in choosing peace and ending the war. They got what they deserved,” he says without any remorse.

You tighten your grip on the dagger in anger at how he callously dismisses the deaths he caused. But then you realize, that no matter how hard you try to push, the blade doesn’t move any closer to him, as if an invisible barrier is keeping you away.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Dreykov taunts knowingly. “I’m sure you’re clever enough to guess by now that Madam B isn’t the only one who can control you. After all, the Widow operations are my creation. Why would I ever allow anyone under my control to be able to hurt me?”

His words hit you like a blow, confirming your worst suspicions, but you refuse to show fear and weakness to him, not anymore.

“You’re a coward,” you spit out, glaring at him. “The only thing you know how to do is manipulate others. That’s why you lost the war.”

Dreykov's smirk falters, replaced by a flash of displeasure, and his demeanor shifts, darkening with a hidden temper before he regains his composure. 

With calculated calmness, he takes the dagger from your hand, your fingers releasing the weapon to him involuntarily.

He inspects it thoughtfully for a moment before swiftly backhanding you across the face with the hilt, the vicious blow knocking you to the ground.

“I haven’t lost anything,” he sneers at you angrily.

Pain radiates through your cheek as blood trickles from your split lips, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pain. 

You wipe the blood from your lips and stare back defiantly at him, causing him to regard you with a mocking pity.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be brave now. You’re nothing more than a tool in my revenge against the Romanovs and Starks,” he spits out in disdain. “I have no obligation to treat you any better than the dirt beneath my feet.”

As Dreykov moves to strike you again, a feeble hand grabs his foot, stopping him. 

Glancing down, you see Pietro’s face contorted with fury as he desperately clings to Dreykov, attempting to protect you.

Dreykov, now visibly irritated, rolls his eyes and with a disgusted expression, easily breaks free from Pietro’s grasp. He then delivers a harsh kick to his abdomen, causing Pietro to gasp and groan in pain.

“Annoying brat,” Dreykov sneers before pointing at his guards. “Remove this pest from my sight and dispose of him already,” he commands coldly before muttering with disdain, “I’ve always hated that one more than the other.”

In a panic, you seek out Bucky and are relieved to find his gaze full of life and awareness as he assesses the situation.

He meets your eyes, and you hope he understands the silent plea in your gaze, asking him to remember his promise to you.

With a slight grimace in understanding, Bucky steps forward, blocking the guard's advance toward Pietro.

He then moves to support Pietro, draping his arm over his shoulders, and shoots you a reassuring glance before dragging him away, seemingly complying with Dreykov's orders.

As they disappear from view, you release a breath of relief before quickly refocusing on Dreykov, who didn’t seem to pay much attention to Bucky's intervention, too preoccupied with brushing off the spot where Pietro had touched him with evident irritation on his face.

Your glare doesn't escape Dreykov's notice though, prompting him to return his attention to you with an indifferent shrug.

“Everything comes to an end sooner or later, especially the things we love," he remarks casually.

At the mention of everything you love, you think of Natasha and what she’s facing right now, the thought of her giving you strength to press further for answers.

“Then the ambush to kill the Romanovs today. Is that your plan for revenge?” you question, your tone accusing.

Dreykov raises a brow in slight surprise at your knowledge but then waves his hand dismissively.

“Your vision is as small and insignificant as ever,” he insults before continuing. “Killing the Romanovs only solves half of my grievances. There’s still another Stark breathing, after all. And what I need to take him down is the very thing that was taken from me in the first place: my victory in war,” he states with chilling conviction.

You can’t help but scoff internally at his ego-driven goal, but you stay quiet, allowing him to continue with his monologuing.

Dreykov’s voice drips with disdain at his next words.

“My initial plan was to use you to convince that foolish princess of yours to eventually start a war with the Starks. But it became apparent that when she takes the throne, she would never consider that option, no matter how many loving glances you throw her way.”

With a mocking gesture, he reaches out to pat your face before continuing with a smirk.

“Luckily, she’s not the only one infatuated with you.”

You furrow your brows, already knowing who he’s referring to.

“Rumlow,” you answer, piecing together the information. 

“He came to you for help to take the throne. And you agreed,” you assert, recalling the time Rumlow had mentioned meeting with Dreykov, which had led to him boasting about a possible union between you and him.

You give Dreykov a look of disbelief, continuing,  “You revealed information about the Widow operations to him so that he can gather soldiers to control and kill the Romanovs for you while pursuing the throne.”

Dreykov chuckles darkly in amusement.

“And once he becomes the new ruler, I’m sure it would take less than a day to convince him to declare war on the Stark kingdom. Especially, if I give him you as his reward for succeeding,” Dreykov admits, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"I would never agree to that," you declare firmly.

But Dreykov remains unfazed, his gaze cold and calculating.

“You will do whatever I tell you to do: seduce him, marry him, or even just be his plaything,” he threatens.

You let out a disbelieving scoff, shaking your head.

“Natasha won’t lose to someone like him. She’ll stop the ambush and everyone involved,” you declare confidently.

“And then she’ll come for you…is that correct?” Dreykov asks, a sinister smirk playing on his lips.

Your resolve wavers for a moment, the weight of his words and their implication hangs heavy in the air, but you try to push back your nerves, pressing your mouth shut.

“Don’t forget,” Dreykov continues, his tone dripping with arrogance, “I was the kingdom’s greatest tactician during the war. I always have a contingency plan.” 

He raises the dagger in his hand, scrutinizing his reflection in the blade before pointing it menacingly at you, the tip stopping just short of your chest.

“How ironic that her devotion to you will be the very thing that leads her to her downfall,” he says with a menacing grin.

A tiny shiver of fear runs through you but you manage to muster some confidence to reply to him.

“I’ll never let you hurt her,” you say, determination burning in your eyes.

But Dreykov's smirk only widens as he flips the dagger in his hand, offering you the hilt with a chilling grin.

“Then it’s a good thing that I won’t be the one who does.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Also, I’m sorry if it was kind of long…but I didn’t want to split it up 😬

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin,  @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson, @automaticdinosaurtaco, @jono723, @mousetheorist, @tofu9162

[sunlitlemonade]

YOU WATCH F1 TOO?!?!?!?!???????!?? RAHHHHHHHHH🏎🏎🏎🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 can we plz get thoughts on drivers 👀🥺🙏🫣🫣🫣🫦

anon i know you sent this sometime around suzuka but that last emoji made me laugh every time i tried answering this. as for the drivers......... sigh. I'm swinging a very bedazzled bat at a swarming hornets' nest. pray for me.

under the cut because i yapped a LOT. also. uh. possible slander. so like.

Red Bull Racing

Max Verstappen: starting off strong here with my favourite guy of all time. He's Inevitable™. He's fast. He's amazing. He's sweet and blunt and gorgeous and I want everything good for him. He's phenomenal, he moves me, he makes it's so easy to root for him and yet, it's incredibly taxing to be a fan given the British bias in F1 journalism and the fandom, not to mention FIA occasionally losing it's goddamn mind.

Sergio 'Checo' Perez: I'm actually so fond of him. His recent performances leave more to desired, I know, but fuck if he isn't the funniest mf around. Also it's simply a matter of time when he gets back in form [the bias is STRONG here I'm aware]. Also he's an extremely good second driver because I for one think he knows how to handle a team built around his teammate. I don't think any other driver on the current grid would have gelled with Max and Red Bull's structure [and strategy to win] the way Checo has.

Ferrari

Charles Leclerc: Il Predestinato. Saint Leclerc. Curse bearer and curse breaker. He's made to be a dream. He can make the hopeless hope. I know I said Max is generational talent but we're quite lucky to be in this era where we have not one, but TWO generational talents because Charles..... this guy..... you have to be blind to not see the sheer talent and insanity this man holds. Ferrari get your shit together istg. I need a Verstappen - Leclerc WDC fight. IT WILL BE GLORIOUS.

Carlos Sainz: *cough* ok, so, I wanna start off by saying I do think he's a chill guy off-track, ok? I really do think that. He's funny, quick, hot [ofc]. As a driver though. I just. He's good --not as good as F1 media wanted you to believe after his win in Australia and the circumstances surrounding it [WDC material??? Any GP winner now is considered WDC material??? ok]-- but he whines A LOT and I would actually prefer if his aggressiveness on track is directed less at his own teammate and more on their opposition? That would be cool. Plus sometimes he forgets it's not 'yippee we are all friends haha' all the time and inevitably fires up when someone serves cunt on track and he's bearing the brunt of it. I call it the Mclaren syndrome if anyone is interested.

Mclaren

enough said [ignore the shit quality i grabbed the first template i could find sjskdjfke]

Mercedes

George Russell: HES SUCH A HILARIOUS DIVA!!!! WHO DOESNT LOVE THIS GUY?? He's so entertaining and fun and he is a very good driver! I feel like we still have yet to see all he can achieve and I am very excited to see what happens next.

Lewis Hamilton: Legend. I truly have nothing else to add. Forget his fanbase, forget his tunnel vision when it comes to winning [and this applies to almost every driver, most of all my favourite ones lol], he's seven time world champion for a reason. Since we're asking for my opinions here though, I'll tell you this: anytime he wins I'm happy enough to see it [though I will forever want to see my favs on P1], any time he doesn't I don't care much, if he has a bad race I will give it less notice- basically, he exists in the periphery of my vision. I have been in awe of him for years and admire him but I cannot call myself a fan. One thing I can't help but obsess over is how cunty and unapologetic he is [which is also something that I love about Max].

Alpine

Esteban Ocon: He's a good driver, he's grinded hard to be here in F1 and I love to see it. Also, he's geek! In my books, that's always a plus.

Pierre Gasly: He's actually one of the most unremarkable drivers on the grid currently. Like there's nothing wrong with him and every time he pops up in interviews or whatever he's fun to see but that's about it? Honestly he seems like a cool guy, a driver okay enough but doesn't stand out much to me in anyway skdjhsjd

Sauber

Valtteri Bottas: THE MOST UNDERRATED DRIVER EVER MAYBE????? I love this dude and I'm hoping he can get something better than the tractor he has this season, as unlikely as it is.

Zhou Guanyu: Again, he's a nice enough driver and I really enjoy his vibe but he's crawling on the track in the tractor Sauber cooked up and I don't really know what to think of him beyond what I have stated.

Aston Martin

Fernando Alonso: Anyone who has a problem with Mr. Alonso has a problem with me. This is a strict Alonso Stan account, I do not take criticism and idc what anyone else has to say about him. He's a legend, he's an icon, he's the spirit of F1. I'm quite literally obsessed with him. You know what. Max is the Only One for me BUT if Fernando happened to win a 3rd title........... Did you know that Adrian Newey was recently acquired by Aston Martin [MAKE IT HAPPEN NEWEY].

Lance Stroll: idc. truly idc. some hate this guy, some love him. im at the camp of idgaf. just complete indifference.

Haas

Kevin Magnussen: If you've noticed anything by now, it's that I love love love track terrors. Not the stupid bitches who divebomb everyone all the time and start barking when it happens to them. Nah, the ones who race. I fucking love them. I love Kevin. Hoping against hope that he gets a seat somewhere next year, I will miss him so much. He's incredible to watch. God. I will actually miss him so much. Fuck.

Nico Hulkenberg: Another underrated driver, he's actually quite skillful and entertaining to watch. I just wish he had better luck like 😭

VCARB

Daniel Ricciardo: I miss him. His performances had waned and yeah, it had been time for him to go but I will still miss him and idk man I will admit I wasn't his biggest fan a while back, which had hurt because at some point, years back, he was the main reason why I watched the sport at all. But he had slowly wormed himself back in my heart and fuck. His last race actually made my chest clench ngl. He was absolutely amazing.

Liam Lawson: Consider me sat. I'm SO curious to see how he performs. We know he's got potential but just how far can he stretch?

Yuki Tsunoda: How many times have I used the word 'love' already? I'm sorry but what else can I say? I genuinely love this fella. He's so good and exciting to watch on track and also, plain funny. I wish for everything good to happen to him.

Williams

Alex Albon: infatuated with his billion dollar smile. Now that that's out of the way let me also just say HES SUNLIGHT INCARNATE, also I COULD LISTEN TO HIM YAP FOREVER. Idk I'm actually really happy for him because he seems to be flourishing at Williams and I mean this in the best way possible: he shines at a midfield team. [Also, note me saying he's sunshine doesn't negate just how fucking sly & sassy he can be. I adore that about him.]

Franco Colapinto: MY BELOVED. I perk up like a sunflower under the sun when I see him. He's such an intriguing driver. I detect hints of track terrorism abilities brewing here and cannot wait to see more of it. Also! He's so refreshing to listen to. I know like 80 percent of the grid is no-nonsense and transparent but man idk how to say this. He's a fucking comedian. Not a thought that has any sort of filter at all in that pretty little head of his. Just. No PR training at all here.

Logan Sargent: This boy. He did not deserve even a smidgen of what he had to tolerate. I actually detest the collective treatment from the fandom and his own fucking team that he had to constantly weather. I hope whatever racing division he advances to, he fucking demolishes. I hope he has so much fun winning. I miss him and his reserved smiles.

Special mention:

Oliver Bearman: I mean he raced twice this season, I can't skip over him just like that. Anyways, he's a BABY [< girl who's half a year older than him sjedhbwje] and I WANT HIM TO DO GOOD. He's done relatively well till now in the limited time on track [in F1] we've seen him, we'll have to wait and watch how he does next year. This F2 season for him has been... eh but like I get why.

[phil-gravey-but-not-daily]

Cat!Graves and Dog!Shadow Company Thoughts🐈🐕‍🦺🐕🦮🐩

Cat hybrid!Graves who purrs softly as he rubs against his Dog Hybrid!Shadows after a successful mission, both congratulating his boys, but also making sure that his property/territory is properly marked and scented. He’d rather d!e than let another hybrid try and claim HIS dog pack. Back off Shepherd >:(

Cat!Graves who stays up super late doing work until the early hours of the morning. He gets a little bit louder when he’s working in the late hours and especially when he’s tired. This causes some of the shadows to wake up and they don’t like that. So when woken up, they will often drag Graves back with them to a dog pile, where they will keep him till he falls asleep or the morning arrives

Cat!Graves who’s more touchy and affectionate than before, rubbing against people he likes and is comfortable around, hugs more often and takes an extended hand as invite for a hug, stands closer to others while swinging his tail slowly. 

Cat!Graves who picks up habits from his dog pack. Like perking up at the smell of peanut butter, having an unreasonable hatred for squirrels, yowling whenever a howl is started, or hissing at people behind closed doors and windows, but being sweet as sugar when the door or window is opened

Dog!Shadow Company who discovers that laser pointers work on Graves in the middle of a meeting. They were using the pointer to discuss a mission, when Graves suddenly walks over to the screen with his tail lashing and puts his hands over the dot. After a few moments of silence the Shadow using the pointer moves it to the side to put it away, but Graves follows the pointer, batting at the wall. The room promptly erupts into chaos, the mission forgotten. Shadows are trying to grab the pointer, and Graves is chasing the pointer around the room, occasionally wiggling before he pounces on the dot. Papers are flying, Shadows are barking and yelling, some are trying to grab Graves, others are trying to get the pointer to mess with Graves, and Graves is bouncing off the walls trying to catch the dot which is moving erratically around the room. The chaos eventually stops when the pointer gets dropped during the confusion and breaks. :( 

Cat!Graves who has to make sure that no other shadows are in the room besides the ones he training with before he starts :( Dog!Shadow Company cannot be trusted as a pack around Cat!Graves when he’s training. Their prey drive kicks in when they see such a small pretty kitty like Graves fighting and tangling against larger dogs :(( Of course, Graves can handle 1-2 Shadows who are exponentially larger than him, but an entire pack? The poor commander is instantly covered and surrounded by large hybrids who can’t help but snap their maws at his body :( And all the while all poor Phillip can do is whimper and whine while try and wriggle out of the pile hybrids :((

Cat!Grave who has a bad habit of pushing tall things off tables. Specifically if its on his 

Cat!Graves who HATES being cornered.(physically) He needs space to move around and feel free and he can’t do that in a corner. He will hiss and snarl if someone he doesn’t know corners or traps him. The only people he lets into his space is his dog pack, and most shadows treat that honor with all the respect that they can give. If someone starts to toe the line too much, and Graves starts to get uncomfortable, all it takes is a few air bites in the perpetrator’s direction for them to back off. No one makes their boss uncomfortable on their watch. Of course Graves can take care of himself, but he takes a little longer to voice his concerns, especially after being shut down a lot by shepherd on missions

Cat!Graves who left the Marines because the bigger, ‘badder’ species thought it was funny to grab his ears and tail and pull as hard as they could just to get him yowling and hissing. They would berate him afterwards, scolding him for being so loud and being weak. His superiors didn’t even care. They thought a species as lazy as a cat didn’t belong in the military so, they let it happen and even went out of their way to taunt him theirselves. All of this built up until Graves had had enough, and left the marines to start Shadow company. He overworks himself sometimes just to prove that he isn’t lazy, and he does belong in the military, even though he isn’t around them now

Dog!Shadow Company who has a group chat dedicated to Cat!Graves moments, whether it be a video of him quickly scaling a wall, a photo of him eating those cat food pouches, or a video taken from behind a corner, showing a Shadow petting Graves between the ears and him purring happily. Every new shadow is introduced to it, sworn in secrecy. Graves does not know about it, and never will know about it as long as the Shadows have any say in it. 

Dog!Shadow Company who secretly knows where Cat!Graves is at all times, they have trackers hidden pretty much in all of his gear. It’s not for nefarious purposes or possessiveness (well, maybe a little bit of possessiveness for certain shadows) but instead for emergencies. Bring the leader of a well known PMC makes him a target for organizations trying to make quick money, or to get revenge for missions he’s overseen. So they keep trackers hidden on him in case someone’s looking to take him hostage. (This one has nothing to do with dog or cat hybrids but it feels important)

Dog!Shadow Company who gets EXTREMELY overprotective of Cat!Graves whenever he’s had a rough day. They’re already pretty protective of him in general, but someone outside the company is causing their beloved Commander to feel uncomfortable?? OhhhhhhohoHO! Grab your guns and your tracking skills, cause that bastard is going to DIE tonight if Graves doesn’t find out in time. They feel like they owe it to him to protect him, as he gave them all a place to call home and people to call family. He’s pretty much their father figure at this point, and as such they will protect him at ALL costs

Dog!Shadow Company who is easy for Cat!Graves to distract, either it be with bones or treats, if the pack needs a pick me up after a mission gone wrong, Graves is there to help cheer them up/distract them

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

2.) A Close Call

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

You hoist yourself up on the tree branch and begin the climb, going from the grip of the bark on the trees to the crumbling concrete of the fallen city. You swing from one of the overgrown buildings landing perfectly on the other side. You smile to yourself proudly. Father's words always ring in your ears as you venture out into the overgrown city. “Too small… too weak… be taken… or killed… safest for you… At home. At village.”

You climb into an old crumbling building, the archways barely holding the ceiling up. You walk in carefully walking through the endless corridors. You walk into a large open space, one, two, three floors!

You wrap your hand around a vine of ivy, sliding down until your feet meet the concrete surface of the bottom floor. You walk down the bottom floor, many many rooms. Most were filled with junk, some filled with few valuables. A shimmer of something catches your eye. You bend down in the growth, retrieving a gold shimmering chain. Dangling at the end was a blue gemstone. You gasp with a smile. Mother would love this. You go to stuff it in your bag, seeing a shuffle as you turn your head.

You freeze at the sudden sound of movement. It could be an animal. It could be an ape. It could be another human. All three alike make the nerves on your neck rise. A rock suddenly flies at your head, only missing by an inch. You gasp and waste no time running in the opposite direction. You duck behind a fallen tree, begging your heart to still.

The shuffling becomes louder, rummaging around in the ruins. You lean over slightly, just a peak, to calm your nerves. One single Ape walks in slowly. His eyes are wide as he looks in every direction.

Noa continued through the old remains, keeping an eye out for any relics that might help him understand more about the human ways. He knew from Raka that human civilization had left behind knowledge, and Ceaser was one to know of this knowledge, it was just a matter of finding it among the overgrown buildings and rubble.

As he walked, Noa occasionally paused to examine an old sign or bit of debris, hoping to uncover a clue about the past. As Noa passes by a dark entrance, he hears a soft scuffle coming from the shadows.

His ears immediately perk up, his senses on high alert. He stops, his eyes scanning the darkness in front of them. A low growl rumbles from the darkness. You sit from behind the tree with fear.

Noa tenses, his attention immediately focused on the source of the growl. He slowly moves to stand strong, his body positioned protectively. He scans the shadows, trying to see through the darkness and identify what’s hiding in the entrance.

Noa barely has time to react as a cougar pounces upon him, its weight knocking him to the ground. He hits the concrete hard, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. He tries to push the cougar off of him, but the animal is strong and fast, its claws digging into his flesh.

You watch as the young ape struggles against the wild cat attack. Noa reaches for his spear and lodges itself into the side of the cougar, causing it to yowl in pain. But the cat is not deterred, its attention is still fully focused on Noa. It continues its attack, its claws digging deeper into his flesh. Noa grits his teeth, doing his best to hold the cougar off. But the animal is strong and determined, its weight pressing down upon him.

You huff and stand quickly, sprinting at the wild animal. You run into the predator, knocking it off the ape.

Noa’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches you roll to the ground with the cougar. The cougar growls, its attention shifting towards you. It snarls and readies itself to attack.

The cougar snarls at you, its eyes narrow as it sizes you up. You smile, confident in your abilities. Noa watches from his position on the ground, a mixture of awe and concern on his face.

You don’t waste any time attacking the cougar, your movements are swift and calculated. With a well-aimed kick, you knock the cougar leg off balance, causing it to stumble. You move in, grabbing the fur on its neck and using your body weight to bring it to the ground.

The cougar struggles, its claws scratching at you. But you hold it firmly, your grip strong and secure. You quickly pull off a small knife that’s attached to your waist, your eyes focused on the cougar. You stab it into its side. It’s thrashing and struggling, it’s eyes full of anger and fear. But you don’t waver.

The cougar’s body goes slack, it’s the final struggle over.

You roll off of it, your breath coming heavy from the effort. You look down at the lifeless body of the animal, a mix of triumph and satisfaction in your gaze. Too weak, huh?

As you turn to look at Noa, you see he’s sat there eyes wide watching you with a mixture of awe, shock, and fear.

You watch him warily, not quite sure what to expect. He is not from your village, and the way he looks at you shows a clear interest.

But you can’t shake the feeling of caution. He is an outsider, after all. You don’t know his intentions or what motives he may have. Father’s warning words ringing in your head. “Any Ape outside… will hurt you… they are not fond of humans.” Your gaze flicks back to Noa, your eyes studying him carefully.

Your gaze travels down to Noa’s arm, noticing the gashes on his wrist. The cloth wrapped around his arm is bloodied and torn, clearly from the attack from the cougar. You take a step closer, your concern trumping your caution for the moment. “You’re hurt.” You raise your hands showing innocence.

He winces slightly as he looks down at his injured wrist, the gashes on his skin still bleeding. "not bad," he tries to dismiss, though the pain in his expression betrays him. Downplaying the wound. You stare at him with worry. “Can I help?”

Noa can see the concern in your eyes as you ask for help. He hesitates for a moment, reluctant to show any weakness. But the pain in his wrist is gnawing at him, and your offer seems genuine. He finally nods, a small but unmistakable acknowledgement. "Yes," he manages.

You slowly take a seat beside him, your focus shifting to the cuts on his arm. Your movements are firm yet careful as you inspect the wounds. He winces slightly as you touch the gashes, but he doesn’t move away. You then dig into your bag and pull out a proper dressing, which you begin to carefully apply to the wounds.

As you tend to his wounds, Noa can’t help but be distracted by your closeness, the way your touch sends tingles through his skin. He watches your face as you work, his gaze focused on your every movement. There’s something about you, something he found captivating and unfamiliar.

Your eyes meet Noa’s as you finish securing the bandage on his wrist. He looks at you, his gaze intense and appreciative. He can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude towards you. But there’s something else there as well, a feeling of curiosity and attraction that he can’t quite explain.

Suddenly aware of the fact that you were still holding onto his wrist, and the warmth of your touch seeping into his skin. You quickly dropped his arm, your blush deepening as you realized how long you had been holding on.

But Noa doesn’t seem to mind, his gaze focused on your face. He can see the blush on your cheeks, and it only serves to enhance your appeal.

He wanted to say something, anything…

But you both suddenly snapped out of the moment by a commotion. Noa turns in the direction of the noise, seeing Anaya and Soona bursting through the brush. Whatever moment you had been sharing was now broken. Before Noa could even turn back to you, you were gone. Disappearing into the trees.

Noa watches for a moment, his gaze following your form as you disappear into the foliage. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment, the moment between you and him now broken by the sudden arrival of Anaya and Soona.

Anaya and Soona approach Noa, and their eyes are immediately drawn to his injured arm and the dead animal on the ground. Anaya, the more outspoken one, grins at Noa. "Looks like you got…into some trouble," he teases.

Noa can't help but stare off into the distance, his heart yearning to follow you. The sight of you rushing away is still fresh in his mind, and the feeling of your touch on his skin still lingers. “Echo helped… Echo saved… me.”

Anaya and Soona's eyes widen in surprise at Noa's words. "Echo?" Anaya echoes, a mix of disbelief and intrigue in his voice. Noa looks down the path again. “she ran… heard you coming.”

Noa couldn’t explain what was happening. There was something about you, something that drew him in, that made him want more. The memory of your touch, the feel of your hands on his fur, was burned into his mind and left him yearning for more.

You finally slow your pace, stopping to catch your breath. You were now a safe distance away from the ape and his companions, far enough that you doubted they’d be able to find you.

You think back on the encounter, your mind racing with conflicted thoughts. The young ape didn’t seem malicious, he had even allowed you to help him when he was hurt. But you knew how Apes behaved around humans. They were protective, they were dangerous. You lean against a tree, your heart still racing from the adrenaline.

“You are far… from the river's edge, sister.” You jump slightly at the voice of your brother. Loui hangs upside down from a tree branch. He wears a sly smile on his face, seeming amused. You release a shaky breath. “don’t tell father, please.”

Loui gets down and stands in front of you. He sees the scratches from the wild cat. “Trouble?” You shake your head. “Just a cougar.” Loui rolls his eyes at your words. “Don’t let mother see.”

You and Loui make your way back to the village, the setting sun casting a warm, golden glow over the surrounding landscape. As you walk, you notice the other apes going about their evening routines, making dinner, tending to their young, and sharing stories around a fire.

You keep walking, the conversation between you and Loui light and teasing.

“Children.” You and Loui look up as your father’s deep voice rings out, the leader of your village standing tall. Loui immediately straightens up, knowing that when your father spoke, it was best to listen. Your father nods at Loui, acknowledging his efforts for the day. Then, he turns his gaze to you. His expression is stern, his eyes sharp.

Your father's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of the scratches on your skin. He steps forward, examining the injuries on your arms with a frown. It's clear that he's not happy to see you hurt. “What happened?” His tone was gruff but filled with care. You hesitate for a moment, knowing that your father wouldn’t be happy with the truth. "I… I slipped," you say, avoiding his gaze.

Loui chimes in, helping to back up your lie, “At the river… rocks get slippery… hard for her to balance.” Your father looks at Loui, then back at you, his expression still stern. He doesn’t seem completely convinced by your story. Your father sighs, still not completely satisfied but deciding to drop it. "What matters is that you're both home," he says, his voice gruff.

You and Loui watch as your father walks away, his broad shoulders stiff and tense. Once he's out of earshot, you nudge Loui playfully. "Close one.” He rolls his eyes before pushing you, “You need to stop… getting me into trouble.” You laugh as Loui rolls his eyes at you, playfully pushing you in response.

"Me? Getting you into trouble?" you retort. “Yes… you, my dear.” Your mother’s calm voice rings out as you near the fire. You and Loui both turn at the sound of your mother’s calm voice. She sits by the fire, a soft smile on her lips.

"Oh," she says, shaking her head at your appearance. "What you… gotten into…this time?" Your mother stands, concern etched on her face as she moves to examine the scratches on your skin. She gently takes your arms in her hands tenderly as she inspects your injuries.

“Nothing. It’s not that bad.” You pull your arm away. Your mother tsk-tsks at you as she inspects your arm.

"You say nothing. But it looks… painful…" she says, her tone scolding but gentle. You try to pull your arm away, but your mother firmly holds on, continuing her inspection. Your mother continues to examine your arm, her expression growing more and more disapproving.

"Looks like… claw marks," she mutters, her eyes narrowing. "Where did this come from?" You look away from her gaze. Your mother’s eyes narrow as she leans in, her voice dropping lower. “Are you going into the overgrown?” she asks, her tone serious.

You feel a pang of guilt, knowing that you had indeed been sneaking into the overgrown areas, which was strictly prohibited for you specifically. You look away not wanting to lie. “Nothing happened.” Your mother's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of admonishment in her gaze. She understands your desire to explore, but she worries for your safety.

"Maybe not this time… but could the next time… you sneak off… You know it’s dangerous…" she starts to say, her tone a mix of concern and reprimand. You roll your eyes “I can handle myself. I did just fine today.” Your mother frowns at your response, her eyes narrowing again.

"Just fine, hmm?" she asks, her tone now disapproving as she holds your arms. "You come home… scratch marks all over your arms…and say you were ‘just fine’?” You let out a sigh, knowing that this was a discussion you and your family had had many times before.

They didn’t understand your need to explore, they didn't understand your thirst for adventure. And every time you tried to explain, it ended in the same argument.

You feel the familiar mix of frustration and loneliness well up inside you. You would always be an outsider, a lost cause.

Your mother sighs, her expression a mix of worry and resignation as she watches you turn and move away. "Bandage it up," she says sternly. "And stay away… from the overgrown." But you’re already walking away, her words falling on deaf ears.

You enter your small hut, a sense of weary resignation settling over you. You place your bag on the small table, the sound of it hitting the wood echoing in the silence. The space is cozy, yet feels empty, lacking the warmth and comfort that should come with a home. You sit on your makeshift bed, piled with pelts and handmade pillows, feeling the weariness from the day's events settling into your bones.

As you sit on your bed, your mind drifts to the events of the day, specifically the ape you had rescued from the wild cat. You remember his eyes, the way he had looked at you with both caution and curiosity. The image of him burned in your mind.

Your mind fills with questions as you consider the ape. You wonder if he was nearby, if he was part of a different tribe, were they friendly, would see him again? The endless cycle of questions swirls in your mind, mingling with confusion and a hint of longing.

Miles away Noa lay in his nest, his mind consumed by the thought of you. His fingers traced the cloth you had tied around his arm, the touch of the fabric sending a shiver down his spine. His thoughts were filled with your face, your voice, everything about your brief encounter playing over and over in his mind.

In the silence of the night, he wondered about you. Who were you? Where did you come from? Why had you helped him? The questions swirled in his head, adding to the whirlwind of confusion and curiosity that had gripped him since your encounter.

As Noa lay there, the thoughts of you continued to swirl in his mind, until finally, exhaustion took over. His eyes began to grow heavy, his mind slowly drifting off into the realm of sleep. But even in dreams, he dreamt of you.

[anyasathenaeum]

Hi ! Can i request reaction vash & wolfwood ? Since y/n was a medic in the team they thought y/n weak but one day she beat up all bad guy alone it shock all the team.

Ps : I so many a idea but i can't make story or headcanon

Thank you for reading this 🥺✨

A/N: My own trisona is a medic so I LOVE THIS REQUEST. I absolutely can do this! I think this deserves to be a mini-blurb rather than headcanons. Enjoy!

Vash the Stampede

"Aw, man! Not again!"

You heard Vash exclaim from near you as you hid behind one of the many houses in the town, narrowly avoiding bullets as they ricocheted off the bricks near you. Just your and Vash's luck - a bunch of bandits had rolled into the town just as you and your team were trying to leave, and now, you were all trapped. You shared some concerned looks with Vash and Meryl, but Wolfwood, of course, was as cool and calm as ever. You tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself - you knew that if it came down to it, you'd fight.

You didn't often have to fight as the medic on the team. Your primary role was patching up the others and occasionally patching up people in the towns you guys passed through to make some extra money. So, as a result, your other team members protected you and treated you like you would be unable to handle yourself if it came down to you needing to fight another person.

However, what they didn't know was that you actually had more experience fighting than you let on. You knew them protecting you came from a good place and a desire to protect you, especially Vash. The way he would wrap his arms around your waist and tug you into cover, his eyes constantly scanning you from head to toe ensuring you weren't hurt, his gaze constantly returning to where you were even in the middle of a fight, you knew he only wanted you safe. It made your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, and you didn't feel the need to divulge that you could actually fight.

All that was about to be thrown out the window, though, as a homemade grenade was thrown by one of the bandits and landed near your group.

"Grenade!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, causing everybody to jump and scramble in any direction they could to get away from the explosive. Unfortunately, that caused you all to split up and you were each now exposed and alone.

And sure enough, a bunch of bandits surrounded you, eager to take a hostage they could use against the town to get whatever they were after.

"Well, well, well! Lookie here, a healer! You guys are rare, might have to keep a hold on you!" One of the bandits exclaimed, almost gleefully. You felt your stomach drop to your feet - there was definitely no way out of this without a fight.

In a matter of seconds, you'd glanced and tallied how many bandits surrounded you and what your surroundings were. Four bandits were standing around you, and there was plenty of rubble and chunks of blown up building around you. Perfect.

Before the bandits could even process what was happening, you swiftly incapacitated two of the four bandits, knocking them out with quick, hard hits and dropping them to the ground. You then went after the third, swinging your bag and using it as a weapon and you heard a loud "clang!" as the metal in your bag made contact with the third bandit's head, causing them to also drop to the ground, knocked out cold. The last bandit, who seemed to have some kind of sense left in them, turned and began to high tail it out of there, but you quickly threw a decently big piece of broken building and nailed the bandit in the back, causing them to fall, too. Within a matter of maybe a minute, you'd taken out the whole group of bandits who'd surrounded you.

As you brushed your sleeves off and picked your bag back up, you were startled by a voice from behind you.

"Woah... (Y/N)... I never knew you could fight like that!"

You turned to see Meryl, Vash and Wolfwood all standing there, their expressions varying from amazement to surprise to just pure awe. You recognized that it was Meryl who had spoken. As you looked back at them, you just smiled sheepishly.

"Haha... yeah. I've actually been in a fair amount of fights before. You guys just... protect me a lot. Which I don't mind, but I want to be able to protect you guys, too."

You found your gaze resting on Vash as you spoke, and you swore you saw a hint of pink creeping into the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears as he looked back at you, a soft smile appearing on his face at your words. To say Vash was impressed by you at this moment was an understatement - he found you absolutely incredible. How was he lucky enough to have somebody like you as a friend?

'And maybe... eventually, as more than a friend, hopefully...' Vash thought to himself, his blush darkening.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

You barely had time to register the sight of the police pulling out their guns before you were yanked down hard, just in time for bullets to whizz over the top of your head, striking the wall behind where your head had just been.

"Seriously, sweetheart, have you got a death wish or somethin'?"

You heard Wolfwood's gruff voice snapping at you, and you knew that he had been the one to pull you down and out of the way of gunfire. You glanced up at Wolfwood and watched his face, watching as his brows furrowed as he evaluated the situation. You could see him trying to figure a way out of this mess, but he must've come to the conclusion that the only way out was to go out guns blazing as he was beginning to take the cover off his cross.

"Stop, Wolfwood, wait!" You hissed, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him hard to get him to look at you.

Wolfwood just shot you a disapproving look, a smirk appearing on his face and a sarcastic tone creeping into his voice, "What, sweetheart? You planning to be my human shield or something? You're just a medic, this isn't your fight so stay down."

Something about the way he said that push your buttons harder than anything he'd said previously, and you felt your anger flare up within you. How dare he assume you were incapable to take care of yourself, and just because you had chosen to develop skills to heal others instead of harm them.

Before you had a moment to contemplate what you were doing, you found yourself pulling out a small gun you kept on you, cocking back the hammer and standing up quickly, just enough so that your were just barely peaking over the little alcove where you and Wolfwood had been hiding.

You quickly set your sights on the police who had been firing at the two of you, and in a matter of a couple of seconds, you fired a series of shots so accurate that your bullets knocked the police officers' weapons straight out of their hands without harming them or even drawing blood.

"Leave!" You screamed at the police officers, reloading your gun and targeting them, "Leave now or I'll aim to kill!"

The police officers didn't have to think twice about that, sprinting away from the scene, leaving their weapons behind as they ran off, likely going to get reinforcements before returning. However, thankfully, you had bought yourself and Wolfwood time to escape now.

Reholstering your gun, you turned to Wolfwood only to see him watching you with an absolutely stunned expression.

"What?" You snapped at him, "You got something to say, Undertaker? Or you gonna sit there looking like a dumb statue until they come to arrest you?"

With that, you turned and began to sprint off, leaving Wolfwood to catch up with you. After a couple moments, Wolfwood came to his senses and grabbed his cross before running after you, a smile on his lips.

"Damn, (Y/N)," He chuckled under his breath as he ran, "You're just full of surprises, aren't you, sweetheart?"

Safe to say, Wolfwood would ensure to never underestimate you ever again and was happy that you were on his side.

[linskywords]

slightly angsty take but watching you spin out the sub!connor headcanons makes me think of the whole cursed-edmonton-franchise narrative where on top of all his complicated messy feelings about being a sub and a hockey player, not being a good enough sub etc., Connor is also always wondering if maybe it's his fault they can't win a darn cup because he isn't scening/subbing right and maybe if he were he could take even more of the team responsibility on his shoulders

which would of course be an utter nightmare for a Leon who lives to spoil his sub rotten. he would have to seriously debate tricking Connor into indulging in being praised, being hand fed chocolate, being tied up and worshiped by claiming it's for the good of the team, but maybe that would be too unethical for him?

Oh that angle would be such a good one to take with Connor. Leon's figured out that Connor's a sub and that he's not practicing his dynamic at all, and he's trying to get him to scene with him, but Connor just shies away from any attempts like a terrified deer. It's not safe for him to scene; he needs to stay focused on hockey; he can't jeopardize the team by losing control of himself and letting anyone find out he's a sub. Leon doesn't want to push it too hard -- it should be Connor's choice if he wants to scene -- but it's so hard to see the toll it's obviously taking on him. The thing that gets him to give in in the end is when Leon points out that it's bad for the team to not have Connor at his best. He convinces Connor to scene with him, just occasionally, enough to take the edge off.

But that's not enough. Connor is still holding back, scening only the bare minimum. He's in such a bind: can't scene too much or it'll risk hurting the team's chances, but if he doesn't scene at all, that will hurt their chances, too. He still doesn't believe he deserves to scene for his own well-being, and Leon can't get that through to him, no matter how well each individual scene goes. It's not until Connor runs into a more self-actualized and chiller Sid that he can even start to believe that maybe he should sub because he wants to and not to help someone else. Then he swings too far in the other direction: doesn't want to stop aftercare cuddling even though it's time to leave for practice. Leon points out that they're going to be late, and Connor freaks out. This is what he was afraid of: that he'd lose control and put his hockey at risk! Leon has to promise that he won't let Connor go too far. He'll hold the boundary while Connor figures this thing out.

[zaebeecee]

Drowning in Stardust

🦌 RadioDustTober: Short Story Edition 🕷️

Day 13: Let’s Swing It!

Alternate Universe (pre-slash)

CWs: Alcohol and tobacco use, references to serial cannibalism/murder, ABO dynamics (background)

No one ever wanted to dance with the Radio Demon.

Word count: 1678

•••

Egyn’s Blue Notes called itself a jazz dive bar, but in reality, it was a dilapidated hole in the wall with a clear space it called a dance floor and a counter where an unenthusiastic imp stood, slinging alcohol to deeply inebriated patrons who definitely didn’t need the extra assistance. It was dark and smoky, usually far too warm, and almost always incredibly crowded at this time of night. The enthusiastic band played for hours on end, and the close quarters meant the music was usually so loud there was no chance of conversation.

Alastor made a point of coming to the bar at least once a month because, despite everything that made it what it was, he loved the atmosphere; maybe it was because it was dark and loud and crowded that he occasionally took the time to sit at a rickety table back in the corner and just exist.

Often, Alastor found himself watching the dancers with equal parts frustration and amusement. For many Sinners, swing dancing was long before their time, and for a fair number it was after, and watching both of these groups trying to grasp the intricacies of throwing each other around a packed dance floor while intoxicated was often nothing short of hilarious. The frustration came in because they were usually so bad at it and, well…

Alastor loved to dance, but no one ever wanted to dance with him.

That in itself wasn’t a huge surprise. Rosie would dance with him when the opportunity presented itself, of course, but that was quite different; she wasn’t afraid of him the way most of the Pride Ring was and, as a fellow Alpha, had little to worry about by way of his more esoteric proclivities. No, Alastor understood why no one wanted to get too close to a potent Alpha, the Sinner who was called the Omega Devourer as often as he was called the Radio Demon. When one had a reputation for ripping and tearing and consuming the flesh of conscious Omegas piece by bloody piece for nothing more than the crime of ‘being a horny Omega in his personal space’, one tended to be largely left alone by those who would be considered acceptable dance partners.

Even knowing that, it remained frustrating. Alastor loved to dance, but one couldn’t really swing without a partner, so the sidelines it would be.

It was an unusually cold night, Hell’s most recent Winter hitting the Ring hard with blizzards that could peel your skin off, when Alastor’s usual routine of sipping rye and smoking clove cigarettes while watching the dancers was disrupted. Typically, Alastor had a minimum of five feet of space between him and any other soul in any given direction, and after so many years, he had stopped paying quite as close attention as he usually would to his immediate surroundings. That was the only explanation for why the sound of the other chair at his table scraping across the floor made every part of him bristle in alarm.

His head swiveled to the side and he caught the scent of an unfamiliar Omega as a Sinner practically melted into the disrupted chair. He was clearly tall, even slumped over on folded arms the way he was, his body predominantly pure white that was only broken up by a series of pink markings. Bright magenta eyes, one against a deep black sclera, watched him with something between curiosity and boredom; it took Alastor a moment to realize the six markings under those eyes were actually six more, smaller eyes. Six arms were each independently occupying themselves: two folded on the table, one slung across the back of the chair, one draped across his lap and crossed legs, one holding a glass of some dark green concoction loosely by the rim, and one holding the stub of a well-smoked cigarette. His clothing was wholly inappropriate for the cold, and while Alastor knew little about the art of seduction, it wasn’t hard to surmise that this outfit was less about being sexy and more about being the only clothes the Sinner had. He looked exhausted, a bruise following the line of his cheekbone beneath his eye and a series of deep scratches disappearing beneath his clothing.

“…yes?” Alastor asked, one eyebrow raising. Now that his attention had sharpened, he was aware that people were watching them, likely waiting to see the inevitable bloodshed of someone like this six-armed stranger approaching the Devourer.

The Omega reached out to the middle of the table, grinding the barely-glowing embers of his spent cigarette into the glass that functioned as an ashtray. “Seen you here before,” he said in a surprisingly harsh, high tenor, heavily accented with something that reminded him of New York. “You never dance. You just sit here and drink and smoke. Seems borin’.”

Alastor felt himself smirk. “If it’s what I always do, whatever would give you the impression that I would find it full?”

“‘Cuz you’re always watchin’ the dance floor,” the Omega said.

“Is that so?” Alastor asked. The Omega nodded, lifting his glass. “You seem to believe your eyes see much.”

“My eyes are great, Smiles.” The Omega downed the rest of his drink and swallowed with a grimace, then shook his head roughly and set the glass down. “Wanna dance?”

Immediately, Alastor narrowed his eyes as his smile sharpened, searching for some sort of scheme or plot. “Do you even know who I am?”

“Nope.” The Omega reached out and actually plucked Alastor’s cigarette from his hand, raising it to take a drag himself before he spoke on a cloud of clove-scented smoke. “Don’t give a shit either. So you wanna dance or nah?”

Their eyes locked, staring each other down, and Alastor was struck by just how much challenge this Omega held in his eyes. There was no trace of subservience or fear, no indication of the desire to cower or flee… he didn’t even see or scent any hint of seduction, just a brazen challenge that seemed to be daring Alastor to attack.

Your blood would decorate this floor so very prettily, sha, he thought.

“I suppose we’ll see if you can keep up with me,” he said.

The crowd parted like a terrified Red Sea as the strange Omega showed zero hesitation in taking Alastor by the hand and pulling him onto the poor excuse for a dance floor. Even the band had gone silent, staring at them openly, until the Omega picked up an empty beer can from a nearby table and chucked it into the trumpet player’s forehead with alarming accuracy.

“Hey, chucklefucks, play some Duke Ellington before I fuckin’ shoot you.”

As the trumpeter whined and held his forehead, the bass player cackled and plucked one of her instrument’s deep, resonant strings. “Okay, Angel baby, it’s your funeral,” she said.

The music started up and Alastor immediately decided to put this overconfident Omega through his paces. He almost expected to dislocate the brat’s shoulder, but the stranger moved like water, twisting into a spin that brought him into Alastor’s hold. Then, they parted and they were off.

Though Alastor’s initial goal had been to make the Omega regret his decision, he quickly found himself recalling the steps of every single dance move he had ever learned, throwing the Omega around the dance floor only for him to match Alastor’s skill and energy every single time. He found himself astounded that this Sinner was somehow a starving streetwalker and not headlining a show at one of the more glamorous clubs in the richer parts of the Lust District, a feeling that only compounded with each bend and twist of his lithe and flexible form.

The song was over so quickly that Alastor was positive they must have cut it short, and both of them stilled, the Omega pressed to Alastor’s chest and Alastor’s hands on his waist. Both of them were breathing hard, and somehow, the Omega didn’t seem at all put off by Alastor’s legendarily foul breath.

“Good enough for you?” the Omega asked.

“Passable,” Alastor answered.

“Yeah, yeah,” the Omega laughed as he raised the clove cigarette that he had somehow kept between his fingers that whole time, taking another drag. He then moved it to Alastor’s mouth, and the Radio Demon caught a glimpse of the lipstick around the tip before the Omega slid it between his lips. “See you around, Smiles.”

As they parted and the Omega stepped out the door and into the cold, Alastor realized just how cold it was in the club. He hadn’t noticed as much earlier, and the dance should have warmed him up. Perhaps it had simply grown colder in the past few minutes.

He never saw the Omega in the club again.

Alastor was certain he would forget him the next day, or the next week, or the next month. Somehow, though, even after an entire year had passed, he would sometimes find his mind wandering back to that encounter that couldn’t have been longer than fifteen minutes… an encounter with an Omega whose name he didn’t even know. It was, in fact, almost a year later when he saw the first billboard.

Set high up in the Greed District, the billboard had the usual sleek style that everything VoxTek put out held. That was almost enough to turn Alastor away immediately, if not for the subject: all white and pink, six arms poised in what must have been an enticing pose, body draped in pink and white satin and eyes that somehow bored into Alastor’s without knowing he was there.

It was an announcement, it appeared; Vox’s little pet, Valentino, had acquired an Omega and was going to make him a porn star… an Omega by the name of Angel Dust.

For the first time in his existence, Alastor felt a new emotion that he had never even considered feeling before: hot, boiling, searing jealousy.

Perhaps it was time for him to see how his old pal’s business ventures were holding up.

•••

[something-about-sunflowers]

I kinda feel like too many people aren't looking at the whole picture with Guillermo and Nandor/his family this season?

Guillermo knows, to a certain extent, that it's hurting Nandor that he's avoiding him. He just can't not avoid him because of the whole 'secretly turned by another vampire and Nandor will have to kill him then himself for the sake of his bruised honor/ego' thing.

Guillermo is also hurting though. His attempt to take some agency for himself by actively pursuing something he's wanted since before he even met Nandor has massively backfired on him in every possible way he couldn't even begin to expect. He didn't know he'd have a Weird Transformation. He didn't know there was some taboo for having another vampire turn him as Nandor's familiar (and he's not actually Nandor's familiar anymore anyway, technically, they're all just dumb and forgot that fact). He, comparatively, only recently found out about the whole Van Helsing thing and that his family can't control themselves around vampires (though I feel like it probably will be different with their Memo, if we're being honest), so he very likely thought for most of his time waiting for Nandor to turn him that he'd still be able to see them occasionally and get/give closure over a longer period of time before he had to stop seeing them when it became obvious he wasn't aging like they were.

He does care about his mom, yall, did you miss him breaking down in the elevator or were you just distracted by him breaking the hand-rail? He's just been very preoccupied with a whole lot of drama (Which he complained about! He told Nandor how upset he was that the wedding and Baby Colin were keeping him too busy to see his family! The end of season 4 was days before the start of season 5.) and an extreme life change. He's an adult. That kind of shit happens when you're an adult (granted, his situation is significantly more fantastical given the whole vampires thing but still). Sometimes you get caught up in your adult life and you miss your mom's birthday. Sometimes you make a big life change that you think is what's best for you and it means you won't be able to be as close to your family. Yes. It's selfish of him - to an extent - but for fuck's sake you can't live your life for other people, even - especially, in some cases - if those people are your family. I'm kind of appalled at people saying that he's deserving to feel bad and rejected because he made a choice for himself. Do you think his mom is blaming him as harshly as some of you are? No! The first thing she asked him was 'are you happy with this change?' She cares about her son's happiness. He's not entirely in the right but fuck do yall know how to do anything but swing hard in the other direction? There's grey areas! All in the middle! Right there, look!!

And then on top of him already being extremely emotionally compromised from reckoning with having to leave his family behind, on top of the already 'emotionally difficult' avoiding Nandor for both of their sakes, he gets another big rejection in his own home from the people he cares most about. I don't know if Nandor noticed that his rejection hurt Guillermo. He's dumb but I really don't know if he's that dumb. He's been able to recognize in the past when he's hurt Guillermo so I don't see why he couldn't now. Are yall gonna blame Memo for feeling bad if Nandor decides to do something to try and win him back or cheer him up? Or if Nandor is upset/worried about having hurt Guillermo?

I don't really know where I'm going with this anymore lmao. My point is: Yes, Guillermo's choice is hurting people but it's also hurting him and he's been hurt for a while now and hurt people hurt people (which is why Nandor lashed out too!) so cut him a little bit of slack maybe? He didn't do anything to intentionally hurt anyone he just wanted to take some agency back for himself that he's been missing for like. Ten. Thirteen years or so now.

[xmads-omensx]

CHAPTER 4 - NOWHERE TO GO

Word Count: 4,726

Content warnings: Swearing, angst, weapons, enemies to lovers, discussions of kidnapping, mentions of being chased, death of minor characters, blood, violence, fighting, mentions of a strip club type location and dancing (no actual stripping of clothes / lingerie), semi-nudity, being tied up / restrained (not sexually), guns

Tag List: @dominuslunae

VANIA

“Hello again, Vania. It’s time to come home.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach as I took in the sight before me. JT, the man I had been running from for years now, stood in front of me with a sickening grin plastered on his face.

I let out a gasp and tried to see if I had a way to escape. There was no way out unless I went in through the Matinez’s apartment. I turned to make a move to run, facing Iris and Jaxon Martinez, and I pushed past them into their penthouse. I heard a gun click behind me, but I didn’t have time to check. I needed to get out.

It was far too high up to jump without causing myself some serious damage, or even death, and even then, JT would still manage to capture me.

I felt hopeless. No. I was hopeless.

I had nowhere to go. I was trapped. And I would remain this way for as long as I, or JT, lived.

“What’s wrong little bunny? Can’t run anymore?” JT smirked at me as he slowly pulled a gun out of his waistband and aimed it at the Martinez’s heads and pulling the trigger, killing both of them instantly. At least they didn’t suffer. But ultimately, they would have died anyway and at least this takes their blood off of our hands.

My eyes darted around the room, looking for anything to defend myself with before Noah came up after JT. He was still coming right?

Nothing would help me. The decorative vase in the corner was too big to lift and swing at him. The tall statue in the centre of what looked like the living room was also too big. The cubes that sat on the side table were too small and wouldn’t help me, but it was worth a shot.

I lunged for them, trying to find purchase enough to swing it at his head, but he blocked my arm, causing the cube to fall to the ground and shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces.

“Nice try little bunny. You can’t escape.” He smirked before harshly grabbing a hold of my wrist and pulling me roughly towards him and in the direction of the penthouse door.

Noah never came. Was he dead? Was he working with JT? Maybe that’s why he agreed to the plan. They were working together, I just knew it. That asshole.

I swung the arm that he hadn’t grabbed and tried to engage my mantis blades, but JT was way ahead of me and gripped my other wrist. “Another cute attempt, but still not good enough. Jeez, I thought you were meant to be good at this kinds thing.” He laughed.

I tried to kick at him, but he lifted his left boot up and thrusted it into my ribs, winding me and causing my to fall to my knees. I coughed and spluttered from my position on the floor as JT just looked at me with a grin on his face. I gazed up through my eyelashes, unable to lift up my head to meet his gaze completely, as he leaned reached into his back pocket and pulled out what looked like a syringe of some kind. He leant down and pushed my head back to give him better access to my neck, then plunged the needle in.

My head began to feel light and woozy as what I assumed was some kind of anaesthetic took hold of me, forcing me into a dreamless sleep.

I awoke with blurry eyes. My arms moved to rub them, but something was restraining them. Blinking my eyes repeatedly instead, I saw that I was in a dark room. Well, at least I thought it was a room. It was a small, rectangular room with a relatively low ceiling. There wasn’t any lights beside a small bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Something was wrong about this room. The light was swinging back and forth steadily with no signs of letting up. The floor beneath me vibrated steadily as if I were on top of an engine. The room occasionally bumped and bounced, flinging me as hard as it could, despite my wrists being restrained behind my back.

This wasn’t a room. This was a van. I was being moved. But to where? They wouldn’t take me to the ERRA HQ. Not when it’s just JT who came after me. on top of that, a truck driving anywhere near the HQ would be suspicious as hell, and would definitely be asking for an attack from a rival gang to steal whatever seemingly precious cargo from inside the truck.

Was he working with Jesse and the rest of ERRA? Or had he gone rogue? No, he wouldn’t do that. Not when ERRA has so much power over him. If he went rogue, Jesse would find out and make him wish he was never born. Besides, JT didn’t exactly have the same sway and power that Jesse did when it came to running missions. Jesse never got his hands dirty, but JT did. Jesse could easily hire someone to take JT out, so he wouldn’t risk it. Or would he? If he was working with someone else he might have an escape plan.

Noah would know what to do. Why didn’t he come after me? Was he working with JT? That would make sense as to why JT came alone, and would allow for my theory of JT going solo to have some truth to it. That fucking asshole. He was so obvious in his hatred towards me. I should’ve stayed away from that son of a bitch. He made me look like a complete idiot, and I fell right into his trap. Fuck.

The truck bounced me around like I was light as air, except I couldn’t move anywhere since I was chained to the floor by the shackles that bound my wrists. Pain shot through me with every movement and jolt that shook the vehicle.

My mind raced. I couldn’t exactly escape from this. The vehicle was moving and I had no weapons on me. JT had wrapped thick material over my forearms so that I couldn’t use my Mantis blades. He really had thought of everything.

The journey felt like hours before we reached the destination. When the truck came to an abrupt stop, my heart raced. Sure, this meant I would have more answers to my questions, but it also meant that whatever hell JT had in store for me was here.

I felt hopeless.

A thought suddenly popped into my head: if the truck had stopped and we were getting out, this would be my best chance at escape.

Once the door opened, and I was taken out of the vehicle, I would have one shot to shake myself free from them and run in whatever direction had the clearest path.

However, I was rudely shocked by the rear door opening to reveal the inside of what looked like a small garage as opposed to the freedom that I had expected. The space was so dark that I couldn’t tell if it was night or day anymore. All I knew was that I was significantly more fucked than I was about thirty seconds ago.

The walls were a dark brick and both the ceiling and floor were made of concrete. A singular metal door stood on the far wall opposite the truck. Bright, vibrant lights peeked out from beneath the door and I could hear the thumping of music from the other side.

Where was I?

The first thing that popped into my mind was that I was in a club of some kind. But JT wouldn’t take me somewhere like Poppy’s or Electric Twilight. That would be far too obvious.

I couldn’t hear any wind, or other vehicles from the other side of the large metal garage door that the truck had seemingly come through.

I didn’t think I was on the surface of the Concrete Jungle anymore…

Fuck.

I was in the Underground.

Now there was definitely no way that I would be able to escape from here easily. My fate was practically sealed.

Behind me, the truck door closed and I could hear the lock click. Footsteps echoed around the room as JT came to stand in front of me. I could hear no other footsteps, which meant that it was just the two of us and proved to me that he was working alone in my capture.

He stood in front of me and started into my eyes with a sickening smirk across his features.

“Having fun little bunny?” He sneered at me.

I spat in his face.

He blinked and looked at the ground between our feet before sighing.

“You’re gonna regret that you fucking bitch.” He laughed lowly, raising back up to his full height before slapping me across the face.

I fell to the ground, my shoulder screaming in pain as I rolled on the floor, trying to protect my head from JT. He grabbed my arms and pulled me back up to my feet, shoving me roughly towards the smaller door.

“Your are going to do exactly what I tell you to do without question. You really don’t wanna make this harder for yourself little bunny, because you will pay, and you will pay with your life.” JT snarled into my ear. “Or on second thought, I’ll kill that pretty boy-toy of yours. What’s his name? Noah? But I guess he’s already dead considering how I left him in that stairwell.”

Noah was dead?

No.

He couldn’t be.

That couldn’t have happened.

Something in my chest cracked. I wasn’t sure why.

It’s all my fault. I made him go along with the plan. He would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. I should have insisted someone else go instead of him. After all, it wasn’t like I wanted to be around him more than I had to.

As much as I hated him, I didn’t want him dead because of me.

JT laughed at my shocked expression.

“Come on little bunny. Let’s have some fun.” He laughed menacingly, pushing me further towards the door.

He unlocked the shackles that bound my wrists together with the keycard in his back pocket.

I tripped over my feet a little as we made our way over.

JT knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern with a loud clank, clank, clank. After a second or so, the door creaked open to reveal a tall, thin, blonde woman with light pink skin wearing a small black bikini and a long, lace, black robe that was tied extremely loosely around her waist.

“JT. You’re late. Is this her?” She asked, turning to me with a pointed look.

“Lilith. It’s always a pleasure to see you too.” JT relied with a pointed tone. “Yeah this is her.”

“She’s short. Why do you always bring Jesse’s scraps? She won’t make us much.” She looked me up and down, assessing me.

It made my skin crawl slightly.

“She’ll do the job. She’ll dop what she’s told. Do you really need anything more from her?” JT asked with a laugh.

“Ideally, we need better. Taller. With less upgrades too. But I guess it’s fine. She’ll have to do.” Lilith rolled her eyes, turning to walk away. “Follow me you two.”

JT grabbed my bicep and pushed me forward with enough force to make me stumble for a second time. I walked through the doorway and entered what looked like a large dressing room of some kind. It was a rectangular room with five vanity mirrors with LED lights surrounding them lining the walls. Each mirror had a stool in front of it. Nine of the ten spaces were clearly occupied, with various belongings placed on the small tables in front of each mirror.

There was an opening that was covered with a deep purple curtain in the back left corner, next to it was a cubicle that I guessed was a bathroom.

The curtain pulled back and a woman entered the dressing room. She was dressed similarly to Lilith, but wore a green sparkly bikini with matching tall green heels. She had long black hair that was pin-straight, much like Lilith’s. She had grey skin, which complimented the bikini perfectly. It seemed like she only had two upgrades that I could see. Her eyes were an unnatural deep red and she had curly horns poking through her hair.

“Raven. This is the new girl.” Lilith pointed at me with a sigh.

“She’s short.” Raven said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We’ll have to make it work.” Lilith sighed again. “JT brought her.”

“Ah so she’s ERRA scraps then?” Raven rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately for us.” Lilith snarled.

The two women towered over me in their heels. I didn’t understand why JT had brought me here. What did this have to do with ERRA? Or the mission? Was he trying to get me out of the way? But for what? Did he know about our job?

“What’s your name pinkie-pie?” Raven asked, leaning down to speak to me so she could patronise me more.

“Bunny.” JT replied for me.

Why did he lie?

“What? Can’t speak for yourself?” Lilith scoffed, making Raven laugh.

“Oh believe me she can.” JT laughed, nudging my shoulder.

I turned to glare at him. He leant into my ear and whispered, “Don’t fuck this up bitch.”

I swallowed.

“Well then Bunny. Let’s get you out of those clothes. JT, you staying or going?” Raven sighed.

“Staying. Gotta keep an eye on this one for Jesse.” JT replied with a wide smile.

“Okay then. So, Bunny, How about we take that jacket off?” Lilith walked towards me.

She extended an arm and undid the zipper before pulling the jacket off of my shoulders. Beneath, I wore a black, short bodysuit. I wore it on all of my jobs simply because it made movement easier. “So I take it black and pink are kinda your thing huh, Bunny?” Raven asked.

I nodded in reply to her question. Their outfits were kind of cute, so whatever they were about to dress me in wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I had to be careful about choosing my battles here. I was in the Underground after all, and with JT still in the room, and the complete unknown on the other side of that curtain, I couldn’t be too careful.

“We can work with that.” Lilith said with a tilt of her head. JT made himself comfortable on an armchair in the left hand corner of the room next to the door we had come through. I assumed this was his attempt at preventing any potential escapes that I tried. Fuck. I was going to have to go along with whatever he had planned.

Raven rummaged around in her large duffle bag that sat beneath her vanity space and pulled out a tiny, black lingerie set and a robe that would cover me up for the time being.

“You can change in there.” Raven said as she pointed to the cubicle in the corner, then she handed me the clothes she had just taken from her bag.

I followed her direction and changed into the lingerie set. To Raven’s credit, it was a beautiful and well-made set, clearly a more expensive one. Shockingly, it fit perfectly and hugged my curves just right. I wrapped the robe around myself and took a moment to collect my thoughts. I tried to come up with a plan of some description. I had no idea what was on the other side of that curtain, so that would be a big risk. I couldn’t go through the door we came through because JT was sat right next to it.

I only had two options and neither of them were good.

Did the rest of OMNS know?

Were they coming to get me?

A knock on the cubicle door shook me out of my thoughts. “You done? We still need to do your hair and makeup Bunny.” A female voice called. I sighed and opened the door to reveal Raven leaning against the doorframe with a bored look on her face.

“Come here.” Lilith patted the back of the chair that sat in front of the vanity I presumed belonged to her.

I sat down and both Raven and Lilith began taking out my signature pigtails. My long hair fell and cascaded down my back. Both women began brushing it and making it look as flawless as possible. Before long, my hair was pin straight.

Lilith then picked up her makeup bag and began applying eyeliner and lipgloss to my face. “We won’t go too heavy because it’s your first time. The clients will want to see your face.” Raven said, as if it cleared anything up.

I shot JT a confused glance.

“JT, are you fucking kidding me!” Lilith yelled. “She doesn’t know what’s happening!”

“You sick fuck! You can’t just make the girl do something like this without telling her!” Raven backed her up.

“Calm down you two.” JT chuckled. “She knows exactly what this is, she’s just getting cold feet. Tell you what, you two mind giving us a minute so I can calm her down?”

Lilith and Raven shared a hesitant glance before stepping through the curtain, giving me a glimpse of what looked like a stage, with a crowd in front of it.

“Listen Vania, either you go out on that stage in that skimpy little outfit, and you do that skimpy little dance that you used to do before I scooped up your sorry ass, or… you tell me about V.A.N.? Sound good?” JT snarled. “And I mean the truth about V.A.N., not that made up bullshit you have been telling people.”

I thought about his threat for a second. There was no way he knew about V.A.N. That would be impossible. If he knew anything, it would be tiny pieces of information, that probably wasn’t even true.

“We both know I won’t tell you jack shit about that.” I snarled back at him.

“Then get your ass on stage Vania.” I turned to walk away from him when he grabbed my arm. “Or, do you want to know what really happened to Davis and the others? His sandevistan didn’t go rogue you know?”

By blood ran cold.

“W-w-w-what?” I spluttered. “No. You’re wrong. The Sandy backfired and that’s what happened.”

JT shook his head. “If you tell me about V.A.N., I’ll tell you about your precious Davis and what really happened. Deal?”

I couldn’t tell JT about V.A.N., but I had to know what he was talking about.

If JT knew about V.A.N., he would tell Jesse, and that information really couldn’t be in ERRA’s hands. That would literally be the worst case scenario.

“If I tell you… what will you do with the information?” I asked, a twinge of hope snagging my heart.

“Doesn’t matter.” JT shrugged.

“No, it does. ERRA can’t know this.” I pleaded.

“Why?” He smirked.

“Because you’ll use the information and take over the Concrete Jungle.” I huffed, frustrated.

“Is that so?” JT sneered. “Guess you’ll never know who killed Davis and the others.” He sighed with mock sympathy.

I took a beat to think my options over. I was stuck. I needed to know what happened to my crew.

“No one killed Davis, he went cyberpsycho and killed the others.” I practically yelled.

JT laughed. “That’s what they told you, huh? OMNS really are fucked up aren’t they?”

“OMNS?” I asked, confused. “What do OMNS have to do with this?”

“Oh?” JT said with mock surprise, “You didn’t know?”

“Know what, JT!” I shouted.

“That OMNS are the reason your old crew died. Well, Noah more specifically.” JT deadpanned.

My body stiffened. My blood ran cold.

“What?” I asked in a quiet voice.

JT leaned forward.

“OMNS hacked Davis’s sandevistan and made him go cyberphsycho and kill your crew. It was Noah’s plan, the rest just carried it out.”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as JT’s information settled in the silent room. About a minute or so had passed and I was still stood in silence, suddenly aware that I was half-naked in the Underground.

“So you see, Vania, I’ve told you what you wanted, now you have to give me what I want.” JT reached around his back and pulled out a pistol. Why didn’t he use it earlier? Maybe it was in the truck.

Now, I had no choice. I didn’t want to die. But I didn’t want to tell him.

“No. You said I had to dance out there if I didn’t tell you, not that I would die.” I pleaded meekly.

“Well, plans change little bunny. Now you tell me, or I shoot you. Simple as.” JT explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I really didn’t want to die.

I had to get justice for Davis, Steven and Alana. OMNS had to pay for what they took from me. I had to take something from them. I had to see this through.

“Fine. But you have to promise me you won’t abuse what I’m about to tell you. Use this information wisely.” I said pointedly.

JT raised his hands in a gesture that mimicked one of surrender. “Okay. Okay. Now tell me.” he pointed the gun back at me.

I flinched and reconsidered my options for a moment a second time. I didn’t have a choice.

“V.A.N. was an experimentation project run by some mad scientist who wanted to get as much undetected upgrades into one person without them going full cyberpsycho.” I explained.

“I know that’s not all of it, Vania.” JT taunted, moving the gun closer to me.

He could see right through me.

“Dr. Michael Taylor was a strange man. He was never happy with just the regular upgrades. He wanted something new. Always something new. He wanted to create it himself. A new way to get upgrades. He had this bright idea to create a human weapon. Someone who had more or less their whole body upgraded, whilst keeping the upgrades undetected.” I took a breath.

“He recruited low-life runners who had nothing to lose to his cause to ‘help’ him with his work. He worked in the Underground, fitting as many upgrades as he could into innocent people.” I continued.

JT scoffed. “Innocent?”

“What like you’re any better!” I yelled.

“Finish your damn story.” JT shouted back.

“Fine.” I sighed. “After a while, some rich dude found out about Dr. Taylor’s experiments and moved him up into one of the skyscrapers off of Coyote Park. The purple one. Gave him a lab and everything. Only problem was that none of the experiments worked. Every single one went full psycho.”

“You didn’t.” He stated.

“Evidently.” I sneered. “I was his last project. He offered me money. A lot of it. And as you said, dancing wasn’t really making me enough to live off, and the odd jobs here and there didn’t bring enough in. I didn’t have anything to lose.”

I took another breath.

“I don’t know what was different about me. But something changed. He started making people into weapons, instead of just cramming upgrades into the disadvantaged. He had a goal. To make a weapon powerful enough to take on any enemy, with maximum effect. Hence the name. Violence Against Nature. He made people into weapons. And that was that.” I finished.

“Then that leaves you. A loose end. How come you’re here? Working for OMNS, and not Dr. Taylor?” JT asked.

“I don’t know.” I lied. I knew exactly why.

“Yes you do.” Fuck.

“Dr. Taylor died. There you go. End of story.” I turned to walk towards the curtain Lilith and Raven had gone through.

“Rumour has it that someone with mantis blades killed him. Ring any bells?” JT taunted.

“Nope.” I bluntly replied, untying the robe.

“You killed him didn’t you, Vania?” I froze. “But you wouldn’t leave without evidence. You aren’t dumb. I think you took his records from his experiments. Records that prove that you are a military weapon, and are therefore illegal. That’s why you’re pushing out jobs left, right and centre. Your fixer is blackmailing you isn’t he?”

“So what if that’s true? What does it matter to you? Not like you can get your filthy hands on any proof.” I scoffed. I tried to muster every ounce of cockiness in my body to try and deter him from the fact that he knew everything, except the details of what Dr. Taylor had been doing. And I just gave it to him.

“I wonder what would happen if word got out about your little ,secret?” He taunted, standing back up.

He placed his hand on my back and began pushing me towards the curtain.

“Get dancing little Bunny.” He smirked in my ear.

I tried once again to muster false confidence as I walked out onto the stage. Before me was a large bar. It was busy. Men and women clambered over eachother to be near the stage. The booths and the stools around the bar were busy. I couldn’t make out any familiar faces, but I would recognise this bar anywhere. It had been revamped since I worked here all those years ago. The Drain. The only bar in the Underground.

I began to sway my hips slowly to the rhythm of the music playing. The crowd cheered. I’ll admit, I was once a fan of those cheers. They made me feel good about myself. Like they were looking at me because I was talented, not because I was a pretty girl in a skimpy lingerie set.

I felt vulnerable, but it was a vulnerability I had come accustomed to.

I looked up into the crowd, feeling someone’s eyes glaring holes into me. Noah. He stared at me with a look of relief mixed with anger. Why the fuck was he here. He took a step towards me. holy shit. He was coming to rescue me. I nodded my head as subtly as I could to indicate to Noah that JT was watching me, and had no plans on stopping.

Noah looked increasingly enraged as he looked around the large space for any options. We were stuck.

He walked forwards, towards the railing in front of the stage. What was he doing? He was going to give himself away.

A painful twenty minutes passed with Noah just watching me. This felt like torture. I saw his mouth move slightly. He was mouthing words at me. Jump. Was he crazy? I shook my head no. Trust me, jump. I’ve got you. He mouthed at me again. I glanced back at JT. It was now or never. I took my chance and launched myself over the railings.

He gripped my forearm and began to run to the door.

“Noah!” A deep voice called out. Jolyl was here too. Were they all here?

Noah pushed me forward as JT and the security guard began shooting at us. He returned fire.

“Noah come on!” I shouted. Trying to get him to escape with us.

“Go!” He yelled. “I’m right behind you! Go!”

Jolly grabbed my arm and pulled me after him. As we ran, I could hear gunshots echoing throughout the Underground. Most of the people around us ignored the situation and moved out of the way of the fighting.

“You okay?” Jolly asked once we reached a more secluded area. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me. It practically drowned me.

“Yeah I’m good.” I replied, slightly out of breath.

We waited for Noah once we were where I presumed the pre-arranged rendezvous point was. It took a while for him to join us, but he probably had to shake off any other unfriendlies.

When he did arrive, he was covered in blood splatters and was gasping for breath. He seemed angry.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Like you care. Let’s fucking go.” Noah growled, cutting me an angry glare.

Oh. I guess JT was right. Noah really was a heartless bastard.

Chapter 5 - COMING SOON Anything > Human Masterlist Main Masterlist