#the swearing is emphasis for my annoyance

[tini5]

In Paris, With You...

Pairing : Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary : What starts as a playful tease from your best friend, Timothée about a crush quickly turns into an unforgettable night. Being invited to the Loewe fashion show in Paris, leads you to get tangled in your sheets with Drew.

Themes : Fluff/Smut

Word Count : 4346

Note : I am apologizing in advance bc it's my first time writing a fic that long, along with first attempt at writing smut and for drew in general!!! I tried my best, even tho i think i wrote more about timmys and taylors relationship i hope you enjoy!! Not proofreaded!!

"I wish you would get invited to Loewe’s fashion show in Paris,” Timothée said, his lips curling into a playful smile as he picked at a piece of sushi on his plate. The familiar hum of the restaurant around you made the moment feel even more personal, like the world outside was a distant dream, a comfortable quiet between you, only interrupted by the clinking of plates as the waiter brought over a fresh round of sushi. 

Your place—our place, you thought—was a small, hidden sushi restaurant in New York, a cozy spot where you two came to unwind, laugh, and share stories you couldn’t share with anyone else. It was a place you and Timothée had claimed as your own since your careers first took off. A lot has changed since then. Starring in Luca Guadagnino’s movie “Challengers” and seeing your career take off at just 22, was truly amazing.  

He leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, narrowing them at you like he was about to reveal a grand secret. “That way, you could meet your lover boy,” he teased, adding a dramatic hand movements with his chopsticks.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the flush creeping up your neck. “You want me to go to Loewe’s show just because of Drew starkey? I don’t even like him like that.”

Timmy raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening. “Lies, lies, lies,” he sang, his voice dripping with mock accusation. You hated how well he knew you—sometimes better than you knew yourself.

“Whatever,” you muttered, stabbing at your own sushi defensively as you put down your chopsticks. “Do you know who’s the brand ambassador of Loewe?”

The shift in Timothée’s expression was instant, his face scrunching up in a mix of guilt and annoyance, as if he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. He sighed dramatically, but before he could stop you…-

“The most gorgeous woman you fumbled because of you know who – the one who shall not be named,” you said, letting the word her hang in the air, dripping with emphasis.

There was no need to explain further. He knew exactly who you meant. You watched as his shoulders sagged slightly, but the smirk stayed on his face, though now it was more resigned than mischievous.

“Low blow,” he muttered, and you both burst into laughter, the memory of his ill-fated relationship hanging between you like a shared joke.

Who knew that Timothée’s big mouth could sense the future? But here you were, sitting in a car, watching the skyline of Paris blur past as you headed toward Loewe’s fashion show. It was almost too surreal, the memory of that sushi restaurant conversation lingering in the back of your mind.

You glanced over at Timmy, who was typing something on his phone, his thumb moving in rapid, practiced motions. He looked up for a second and grinned. "See? I told you. Here we are, ready for your lover boy," he teased, leaning back in his seat, eyes glinting with mischief.

You couldn’t stop the eye roll that followed. "I swear, you have an obsession with that phrase. But we don't even know if he'll be there."

"You hope he’ll be there," Timmy quipped, nudging your shoulder playfullly.

You tried to suppress a smile, but it was useless. Yes, you hoped. Drew Starkey had become a quiet fixation in your mind—there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was his blue eyes, his charisma, his –

Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your dress, custom-made by Loewe, every stitch and detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Jonathan Anderson had made sure it reflected not only the brand’s style but also you—soft yet bold, striking but elegant. You looked stunning, and you knew it. 

The car ride felt both too long and too short, your mind spinning with what-ifs. Timmy, noticing your quiet, serious for once, put his phone away and turned to face you. "Hey," he said gently. "We can ditch it if you want. No fashion show and no boy is worth you eating your nerves over."

You smiled softly at him. That was the thing about Timothée—he knew when to be playful, and he knew when to be serious. He knew you. "I know," you said, your voice quiet but steady. "But I’ll be fine. Besides, you’d be miserable if you missed the after party later.”

Timmy shrugged with a grin. "Yeah, you’re probably right. But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll go. If you want to leave, we’ll leave."

You appreciated that more than you could say, but instead of responding, you looked out the window. The car slowed to a stop, and the reality of the situation hit you. The cameras, the people, the flashing lights—it was all waiting just outside.

"Ready?" Timmy asked, holding out his hand like a knight in shining armor.

You took a deep breath and nodded, slipping your hand into his. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The fashion show itself was a whirlwind. Lights, camera flashes, the hum of conversation blending with the soft music in the background. But amidst the glamour, you were determined to keep your distance from Drew. Every time you caught a glimpse of his tall frame, you did your best to blend into the crowd and focus on the runway.

Timothée, couldn’t resist teasing you about Drew, his playful remarks making it even harder to stay composed. Despite your heart fluttering every time you heard his soft laugh, you managed to keep your cool, or at least you hoped you did.

The show itself was a visual feast, with stunning outfits by Loewe that left everyone in awe. Timothée was in his element, charming everyone he spoke to, effortlessly gliding through the crowd. Yet, you could tell he was also trying hard to avoid running into Taylor Russell. 

You couldn’t miss how his eyes flickered toward her now and then, a flash of something in his expression that only you could read. But you gave him space, knowing that whatever was going on between them was its own delicate web.

You exchanged polite smiles and laughed at jokes, did your best to keep up but your thoughts always circled back to one thing: Drew Starkey.

You both succeeded in your mission during the show. But as the show came to a close and the after-party beckoned, the sense of triumph was short-lived. 

The after-party was a different beast altogether. And there, at the heart of it, was Drew Starkey, mingling with his entourage and catching your eye from time to time. Despite your best efforts, you felt the electric pull of his gaze, the gravity of his presence impossible to ignore.

Timmy noticed, of course. "We can leave, you know, get a take out" he offered again as you both stepped into the car. But you shook your head, determined now. “Then stop worrying. He is not going to eat you.” Teased Timmy. 

Then it happened. As you sat at the table with Timothee, you saw Taylor Russell make her way through crowd. 

You quickly turned to Timothée, a note of urgency in your voice. “Timmy, don’t panic, but she’s coming over.”

Timothée’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at Taylor. His usual nonchalance faded into a look of mild panic. “You’re kidding,” he muttered, trying to keep his cool. “Why does she have to pick now to come over?”

And before you knew… - “Hello” – Tension shifted as Taylor greeted you with her ever the sweetest voice. 

“I’m going to grab a drink. I’ll catch up with you later.” you said, your voice carrying a light, reassuring tone. You shot him a quick look, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll kill you if you screw it up," you mouthed playfully, earning a quick smirk from him before you excused yourself to give them some privacy.

Making your way to the bar, you tried not to let your nerves overwhelm you. Just a drink, you thought. Just a quick drink, then I can blend into the background.

“One Cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, just as a familiar voice from beside you made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s on me.”

You turned, and there he was—Drew Starkey, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in hand, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

Your pulse quickened at the sound of Drew’s voice. He stood next to you, casually leaning on the bar like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. His tailored jacket hung off his broad shoulders as though it was designed for him alone. His eyes, that piercing blue you couldn’t forget, caught yours as he smiled—a lazy, confident grin that made your stomach do a flip.

“It’s on me,” he repeated, a little softer, his voice low enough to feel intimate despite the crowd around you.

Your heart stuttered, and for a split second, you forgot how to respond. All those times you’d fantasized about running into Drew Starkey in moments like this and now-  He was right there, buying you a drink, and you felt like a teenager all over again.

“Thank you” you finally managed, forcing the word out without sounding too flustered. But your face betrayed you, the warmth creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. You prayed the dim lighting would hide the blush.

The bartender slid your drink in front of you, and you lifted it to your lips, hoping the cool liquid would calm your nerves. But Drew was watching you—really watching you—and that made it impossible to relax. His eyes never left yours, and there was something about his gaze that made you feel both exposed and flattered at the same time.

“You look stunning, by the way,” Drew added, his voice velvety smooth, the compliment slipping out so easily it nearly disarmed you.

You blinked, trying to play it cool, but the way he said it made your heart race. "Thanks," you said again, "You’re not so bad yourself."

Drew chuckled, a deep sound that seemed to ripple through the air between you. His presence was intoxicating, almost as much as the drink in your hand. “I’ve been told,” he joked, his smile widening just enough to show a hint of mischief. Your lips tugged into a grin despite yourself. 

“So," he said, leaning in a little closer, his elbow brushing lightly against your arm as if testing your boundaries, "how are you enjoying Paris?”

A warm smile spread across your face, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “Paris is... well, it’s like coming home in a way,” you began, your voice tinged with affection. “Even though I grew up in the States, there’s something about this city that just feels incredibly familiar and comforting.”

You took a sip of your cosmopolitan, letting the flavors mingle with your emotions. “It’s the little things, you know? The way the light changes on the Seine, the scent of freshly baked pastries through the streets, It all feels so...Parisian. It’s like stepping into a world that’s both new and deeply personal at the same time.”

Drew’s smile widened, his expression softening, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I can see how much this city means to you. It sounds like you’re really embracing the magic of Paris.”

You nodded, a playful smile tugging at your lips“So the Queer, huh?” you asked, your tone light and teasing. Drew’s chuckle was light and warm, making you smile even more. “So the Challengers, huh?”

You both laughed, the easy banter between you making the moment feel effortless and natural. 

“So, how was working with Luca? I know how he gets sometimes.” 

His eyes lit up at the mention of Luca’s name, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Luca is incredible. He’s not just a director; he’s like a creative force of nature. it’s like he has this unique ability to bring out the best in everyone he works with.”

You leaned in slightly, enjoying the conversation. “Oh, absolutely. Luca has this way of making you feel like you’re part of something truly special. I’ve learned so much from him. He’s like a father figure to me.”

Drew’s gaze was warm and appreciative, “Its sweet how full of love you are.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, is that so? But enough about Luca. What about you, Drew? What’s your creative magic like?”

Drew’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “My magic? Well, I’d say it’s more about finding the right moments to create something special. And right now, I think the real magic is happening here.” He gestured between the two of you with a teasing grin.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what makes you say that?”

Drew leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Well, I have to say, talking to you is a highlight of my night. You’ve got this incredible energy that’s hard to resist. And I’m not just talking about your career.”

A soft laugh escaped you, and you could feel the flirtatious tension between you growing. “Is that so? I must admit,you’ve got a way of making me feel special.”

Drew’s eyes met yours with a look that was both sincere and playful. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s not every day I get to chat with someone as fascinating and pretty as you”

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. “Well, I’m glad I could make an impression” 

Drew’s smile grew, his gaze held yours, But before either of you could continue, the moment shattered.

“Drew? What took you so long?”

Odessa’s voice sliced through the comfortable haze you and Drew had created, and the tension in the air shifted immediately. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know it was her—the sharpness in her tone was unmistakable. Drew’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and though his smile didn’t completely fade, it wasn’t as easygoing as before.

Odessa was stunning, of course—there was no denying that But there was something about her presence that felt... strange. Maybe it was the way she looked at you, her eyes flicking up and down, sizing you up in a single sweep. 

Her expression betraying a hint of impatience. “I was just about ready to head out. Are you not coming?”

Drew turned to her, his face a mixture of apology and concern. “Oh, right. I just got caught up in a conversation here. I’ll be right out in a moment, go wait outside okay?”

Odessa’s eyes flicked to you with a mixture of curiosity and something sharper—perhaps jealousy. She gave you a curt nod. “Nice to meet you.”

You offered a polite smile, trying to keep the interaction friendly despite the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you too, Odessa.”

Drew’s gaze returned to you, and there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “I really enjoyed talking with you. I’m sorry –

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. “It’s okay. I hope you both have a good night.”

Drew’s smile was tinged with regret as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. “I’ll text you.”

With a final, lingering glance, Drew turned and walked away ,leaving you with a swirl of emotions. You watched him disappear into the crowd before taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest.

You downed the rest of your cosmopolitan in one go, hoping the drink would steady your nerves. Pulling out your phone, you quickly texted Timothée, letting him know you were heading out.

As you made your way to the Uber pickup area, you could feel the mix of excitement building inside you. Just as you settled into the backseat of the car, your phone buzzed with a new message.

It was from Drew. 

Drew: I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. I’d love to continue it… 

You: 44.

You: It’s my hotel room number. 

You: Don’t make me wait. 

The Uber ride back to your hotel was a blur. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding. 

You leaned your head against the window, watching the lights of Paris blur past as the adrenaline surged through your veins. 

Stepping out of the car and you hurried your way up to your hotel room. Part of you wondered what you were getting yourself into, but the other part—the part that had been down bad for Drew Starkey since the moment you saw him—couldn’t resist the temptation.

And then, finally, not too long after you entered your room, a soft knock was heared.  You froze for a moment, staring at the door, before gathering yourself and opening it.

Drew’s eyes were dark, intense, but his smile was soft, disarming. He stepped inside, the door closing quietly behind him, and suddenly the air between you felt charged, thick with anticipation.

“You really sent me your room number,” he said, voice low, teasing, as he leaned against the wall, watching you with that same amused glint in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to keep it light, though your heart was racing a mile a minute. “I figured you’d appreciate the direct approach.”

Drew laughed softly, stepping closer, his gaze flicking over you like he was taking in every little detail. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I really do.”

The touch of his fingers on your skin sent a shiver through you, and before you knew it, you were standing impossibly close, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Do you know how hard it was to not look at you all night?” he asked, his voice warm against your skin, his lips just inches away from yours. “You were all I could think about.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled over you, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and for a moment, all the nervous energy melted away.

“I noticed,” you whispered, barely able to keep the teasing out of your voice.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear. “Good.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours, soft but deliberate, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. The kiss was slow at first, testing the waters, but when you kissed him back, everything else melted away. It was just you and Drew, the rest of the world fading into the background as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your hands instinctively finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity of it all.

Drew leaned his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still holding you close. "I've wanted to do that for a while," he admitted, his voice low, almost a confession.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. "So have I."

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his in a kiss that was nothing like the first—a kiss filled with longing and heat. Drew responded instantly, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His lips moved over yours with urgency, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You moaned softly into his mouth, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He backed you toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming over your body, sending sparks of desire everywhere they touched. You stumbled slightly, your legs hitting the edge of the bed, and you pulled him down with you, the both of you collapsing onto the mattress in a tangled heap of limbs.

Drew’s body hovered over yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hands, now more confident, slid up the sides of your body, teasing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion. The cool air against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off his body, and you felt a rush of anticipation as his gaze darkened, his lips quirking up in appreciation.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath hitched as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You arched into him, the sensation of his mouth on you sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. He worked his way lower, his fingers deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before his lips closed around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips, and Drew groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. He moved with purpose now, his hands sliding down your sides, tugging at your pants until they were nothing but a heap on the floor. Every touch, every kiss, felt like fire, like he was branding you with his desire.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you.

You reached up, pulling him closer, your lips crashing into his once more. The kiss was frantic now, filled with need and desperation. 

Before you knew it, Drew had shed his own clothes, his body pressed against yours, skin on skin, the heat between you almost unbearable. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. And when he finally slid his hand between your thighs, teasing you, you gasped, your body arching into him, silently begging for more.

“Drew,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with need.

He smirked against your lips, his fingers dipping lower, sliding inside you with a slow, deliberate motion that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he worked you, his thumb circling your sensitive spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop…”

“Then don’t”, Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath him, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his fingers away, leaving you aching and desperate for more.

You let out a frustrated whimper, but Drew silenced you with a heated kiss, his body pressing down against yours as he positioned himself between your thighs. The moment stretched out, the anticipation crackling in the air, before he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Drew groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, teasing you, making you crave more. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him to go faster, your body meeting his with every thrust.

The pleasure built quickly, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Drew’s pace quickened, his breathing ragged in your ear as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending on fire as he pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you until it was almost unbearable.

“Drew,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

He responded with a deep groan, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name.

Drew followed soon after, his body tensing above you as he found his own release, a deep groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat, still reeling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing. Then Drew turned to you, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips as he reached out, pulling you against his chest.

“I think I’m gonna need your room number more often,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and contentment.

You laughed softly, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of everything that had just happened. “I think I can arrange that.”

With that, you curled up against him, your head resting on his chest, your heart still racing as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the feeling of Drew’s arms wrapped around you the last thing you remembered. 

And just like that, as you drifted into sleep, one thought lingered:

"Sometimes, love isn’t about chasing a fairy tale or clinging to the past. It’s about embracing the unexpected, even if it’s wrapped in a Loewe suit and a pair of smoldering eyes that see right through you."

TMZ_TV : Last night’s Loewe show was nothing short of spectacular! From jaw-dropping designs to unforgettable moments, the runway was on fire. 🔥

🌟 Y/N L/N stunned in a custom Loewe creation by Jonathan Anderson, embodying elegance and innovation. Meanwhile, Drew Starkey’s sleek Loewe suit had everyone talking.

👀 The real buzz? The chemistry between them at the afterparty! The night was filled with high fashion and even higher drama. 💫

Swipe to see the highlights and catch up on the latest fashion gossip! 💃🕺

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I am very nervous!! Hope you liked it and i did not disappoint you...

[amazingmsme]

Last Call for Mercy

AN: the much anticipated 600 strike fic is FINALLY here! I think we’ve all been dying to see Poseidon get his ass handed to him with some good ol’ fashioned tickle torture, & I’m here to deliver! That art by you know who (too scared to mention them in this fic) was such perfect inspiration for this fic! Grab a snack & settle in, ‘cause it’s kinda long (just over 4k)

Warning that it’s a little more intense & mean than my usual fics, but it’s Poseidon & he deserves it lmao. Kinda suggestive, but nothing more than that. (I will forever be inspired by the manwhore au) other than that, enjoy Poseidon getting what he deserves!

The wind whipped and howled, waves crashing against jagged rocks. The spray of the sea reached high, filling the air with the taste of salt. Dark clouds rolled in, quickly blocking the sun as rain poured from the sky.

Odysseus stood before Poseidon, calculating his next move. The God lay sprawled across the rocks, bruises and small cuts littering his skin from their previous fight. He looked smug, almost proud.

Odysseus couldn't keep this up forever, and he didn't want to. He was tired of fighting just to survive; it was all he'd known for the past 20 years. He was tired. So, so tired...

He had hoped Poseidon would be too. That when offered a truce: a final chance to leave the past behind, that he would take it. Of course, he could never be so lucky, nor Poseidon so reasonable.

He looked at his island one last time, coming to a decision.

"You're going to call off that storm." He spoke in a dead, flat tone. One that struck fear in the hearts of many and commanded respect.

Poseidon's triumphant smirk stretched further across his face, twisting his features with sadistic glee.

"Or what? You can't kill me," he taunted. Odysseus slowly shifted his gaze back onto him.

"Exactly."

Odysseus stalked closer, like a lone wolf closing in on a kill. Poseidon's grin faltered once he realized Odysseus was still coming towards him.

"Wait-" his eyes darted to where his trident now rested at the soldier's feet. "Wait!"

And then Odysseus smirked.

"Oh no. By the time I'm through with you, you're gonna wish I stabbed you instead," he said matter of factly.

Poseidon sneered, lurching forward threateningly. "What?"

But before he could say another word, the King of Ithica was straddling his hips, shoving his back against the rocks. He blinked in shock, at a complete loss for words.

"Cruelty comes in all shapes and sizes," Odysseus said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. "Even ones you don't expect," he went on to crack his neck, rolling his shoulders just to drag out the anticipation.

Poseidon could've thrown him off, but he was curious where the mortal was going with this.

"Do your worst."

"I intend to."

Poseidon would swear he only screamed so loud because he was caught off guard. I mean, really, who in their right mind would try and tickle a God at a time like this? Who would even think of that?

Odysseus of Ithica, that's who. Because of course he would.

Odysseus dug into his sides, scribbling over bare skin made slick from the rain. Poseidon reacted immediately, folding in on himself with a bark of laughter as he scrambled to shove the offending hands away.

"Whahahat do you thihink you're dohohoing?" he demanded, growling through his laughter. Odysseus snorted in amusement, pinching up and down his sides.

"Thought it would be obvious," he taunted, flashing a sadistic grin. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes in annoyance, prompting Odysseus to claw at his stomach.

"Y-you ahaharrogant bastahard! I ohohorder you to-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there," he cut him off. "You're not the one in control anymore. I am."

Poseidon leveled him with a harsh glare, determined to prove him wrong. "Like hehehell you ahare!"

Odysseus shrugged, sporting a sly, malicious grin. "Agree to disagree."

Poseidon's annoyed scoffed morphed into a snort as he kneaded his lower stomach, right above his waistline. His eyes flew wide open in embarrassment, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds escaping.

"That was a fun noise," he goaded, wiggling a finger in his bellybutton. "Let's hear it again, shall we?" Poseidon shook his head, ready to throw him into the ocean, but much to his dismay, a shrill screech pierced the air instead.

"Close, but I think it was more like this!" Odysseus demonstrated by squeezing his hips. Poseidon bucked and screamed through hysterical laughter. He tried his best to block the offending hands, but the King of Ithica was annoyingly fast for a mortal.

"Ohoho just shut up ahahalready!" he growled in response. That bastard had the gall to chuckle at him.

"Why should I?"

"I-I'll kihihill you!" But the force of his laughter severely negated the threat.

"Not a very convincing argument there, giggles."

"What dihihid you just cahall mehehe?" Poseidon growled through growing hysterics.

"Giggles!" he repeated proudly. To prove his point, he reached up to flutter against Poseidon's fin-like ears.

"Ihihi do nohohot giggle!" he denied through a particularly bubbly bout of giggles.

"Pft, yeah, keep telling yourself that, it won't make it true," he continued to taunt. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes. "Ihif you dohohon’t just shut up-!" he sassed, cutting himself off with a gasp. Odysseus arched a brow and began kneading his hips. He threw his head back in hysterics, bucking like a wild horse.

"Oh yeah? You’ll what?" Odysseus growled threateningly, trailing off. Poseidon sneered and reeled back, ready to slap him, to grab his hands, to throw him off, to do anything to stop what was happening. And then Odysseus grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm above his head.

They locked eyes and Poseidon shook his head, frantically tugging at his arm. How the hell was he so strong? He was a mortal for crying out loud! So what the fuck was going on? Then again, he supposed he wasn't putting up much of a fight, the way he was cackling and flopping around like a fish out of water.

The irony was not lost on him.

It didn't take long for Odysseus to wrestle his other arm into place. He held down both of Poseidon's wrists as he reached off to the side.

He had grabbed Poseidon's own trident, holding it high above him so the light could glint off of it perfectly. Each prong was sharpened to a point, and aimed right at him.

"Hold still, yeah? Unless you want to get stabbed," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke. Poseidon remained speechless as his brain struggled to catch up with itself. He heard a loud metal shing followed by the sound of crumbling rock, and suddenly he could move his arms.

He couldn't move his arms!

He tugged and yanked frantically, but his trident held firm. Each wrist rested in the space between prongs, but there wasn't enough room to slip free.

"That's more like it," Odysseus examined his handiwork, making sure the trident wouldn't budge.

"Are you out of your mind! Let me go!" His entire body grew tense when he felt hands rest atop his ribcage.

"You're a God, it shouldn't be that hard to escape if you really want to," he noted in a condescending tone. Poseidon glared up at him, arms straining as he tugged futilely.

"Just what are you implying?" he hissed through clenched teeth. Odysseus grinned wider.

"Oh I'm not implying anything." He curled his fingers ever so slightly, just barely pressing into the skin. Poseidon gasped and arched his back, desperately fighting off a growing smile.

"You insolehent prihihihick! Stohohop thihis at once!" he demanded through deep hysterics as Odysseus clawed at his ribs.

"That depends. You gonna call off that storm?" Odysseus asked, wiggling his fingers faster as he spoke, making it impossible for Poseidon to answer.

He shook his head and choked out, "N-nehehever!" Odysseus shrugged, not an ounce of sympathy to be found.

"In that case, I guess I'll never stop."

"You thihihink this ihis funny?" he sounded significantly less threatening than he had hoped.

"Hilarious, actually," Odysseus deadpanned, scribbling between each rib, inching closer to his gills with each passing second. Poseidon's laughter rose in pitch, and he struggled with renewed intensity. Odysseus smirked down at him.

"Aw, what's the matter? Is this a bad spot?" he asked, running his thumbs along his bottom gill.

Poseidon snorted, arms straining where they were pinned. His cheeks were flushed, long dark hair fanned out around him like rolling waves.

"Noho, please! Not there!" he begged, a forced grin splitting his face in two as he spoke.

"Oh, have you changed your mind?" Odysseus asked, cocking his head innocently. But his hands hovered above Poseidon's gills, wiggling just above the skin.

He sucked in a breath, leaning as far away as he could. "No-" he barely choked out the single word before he was lost to bubbly hysterics. Odysseus traced along the edge of each gill slowly, watching his reactions with a close eye.

Poseidon snorted and squirmed from side to side, lips twitching into a giddy, nervous smile.

"In that case, I think I'll stay right here." Poseidon's eyes widened in something akin to fear.

"Wait, don't!" he protested, arching his back with a giggly snort when Odysseus traced along both sides. He only had to use one finger to get him squirming and choking back laughter. Poseidon bit his lip, but sputtering giggles and shrieks still managed to slip out. "Stohohop!"

"Don't stop? Wasn't planning to, but whatever you say! Gotta give the God what he wants," Odysseus taunted. Poseidon shook his head, a blush quickly spreading across his cheeks.

"You knohohow dahamn well thahahat's not what I meheheant!" he argued. His laughter was uncharacteristically high pitched as he teased his gills, and Odysseus was eager to see what other noises this spot would produce.

"Mmm, actually, I don't," Odysseus corrected with a casual shrug and a shit eating grin. He jumped to the next gill, wiggling a finger just barely underneath the edge. Poseidon snorted and gasped, arching his back as he clenched his jaw. And yet, his laughter persisted.

It was much more shrill than what Odysseus was expecting, but he supposed that was because of where he was targeting. He made sure to be careful around the gills, keeping his touch light and fluttery. You'd think the lighter tickling was worse from the way he was acting. Odysseus considered the thought, watching the way the God writhed and giggled beneath him.

"Come on, it can't be that bad. I'm barely even touching you!" he noted smugly, ghosting his fingertips along his ribs and gills. Poseidon threw his head back and let out a wheezing laugh.

"Ihit's fucking ahahawful!" he screamed, sounding less angry than he intended, and more desperate than he cared to admit. But as humiliating and degrading as this all was, there was a small part of him that was grateful he wasn't enduring real torture. If the King of Ithica was crazy enough to pull a stunt like this, then there's no telling what he's capable of.

He would count his blessings where he could.

He was pulled from his spiraling thoughts when he heard Odysseus chuckle. "That's over dramatic, don't you agree?" he asked, tracing the rim of his gills at an agonizingly slow rate.

"Nooo!" Poseidon denied, but Odysseus was unsure if he was answering the question, or protesting as the tickling began to speed up. He twisted side to side, unable to dislodge the hands exploring his ribs. He snorted and kicked frantically when a finger hesitantly wiggled underneath a gill.

"FUCK, dohohon't you dahare! I will kihihill you!" Poseidon threatened through breathless snickers. Odysseus cocked his head, sporting a sinister smirk.

He leaned down, invading the God's personal space until their noses were almost touching. "I don't think you will." Poseidon sneered up at him until it was forcibly replaced by a bright smile.

"You cocky little-" his words were cut off by a squeal that gave way to breathless cackles. Poseidon thrashed and tugged on his arms, but his trident held firm against the rocks. Odysseus fluttered his fingers on the inside of the gills, just barely reaching in.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Odysseus taunted, cupping an ear with one hand.

"NOHOHOT THEHERE! PLEHEHEASE!" he begged, snorting and wheezing in between bouts of hysterics.

"Wow, you do have manners," Odysseus feigned surprise. He decided to cut him some slack and switch to a new spot. After all, this was pretty fun, and Odysseus didn't want him to tap out too soon. He was thoroughly enjoying every second of his well earned revenge... And the power trip he got from it wasn't half bad either.

Poseidon cackled and swore under his breath as he continued teasing the inside of his gills. His laughter began to sound as though he were screaming underwater, frantic giggles gurgling in the back of his throat as he tried to shove them back down. Odysseus had never heard such a laugh, and took it as a sign to slow down.

"You’re starting to sound a little desperate there, so I guess you deserve a break. Besides, we still have other places to explore..." he trailed off as he rested his hands on his biceps. He lightly pressed into the flesh, watching carefully as Poseidon's breath hitched. He drug his hands down until he reached his bare pits.

"There is no we," he snapped through clenched teeth.

"I don't know, I'd say we're pretty close," he said, just to get under Poseidon's skin. It seemed to work, as he scoffed and glared up at him. "What do you think?" he prompted, cocking his head to the side.

"I thihink you're fucking crahahazy," Poseidon answered as his lingering chuckles faded. Odysseus seemed to soften at those words, placing a hand over his heart as they locked eyes.

"Aw, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Poseidon rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd take that as a compliment."

"Y'know, I liked you a lot better when you can barely speak," Odysseus snarked. He didn't give the God a chance to answer before he dug back in, clawing at his exposed pits. Poseidon practically screamed, thrashing around on the rocks as he tugged and twisted his arms in a futile attempt to free himself.

"That's more like it!" Odysseus cheered, raking blunt nails down the center of his hollows. He snorted and cursed at the sharp ticklish sensation.

"Nohoho ihit's nohohot!" he argued. Odysseus arched a brow.

"You just like arguing for the sake of it, don't you?" he asked, not afraid to call him out.

"Ohoho lihike you dohohon't!" Poseidon taunted back through his giggles.

"Yeah, but you're a God. Aren't you supposed to be above shit like that?" he reasoned.

"Absolutely not!" he growled in frustration. Who was he to tell him how a God should act?

"Oh, sorry, my mistake," Odysseus faked an apology, not once slowing his movements.

"Quit beheheing such aha smart ahahass!" Poseidon demanded. He continued to thrash and kick about, the sea surrounding them churning and sloshing. The choppy waves rose and fell in time with Poseidon's bellowing voice.

"No thanks, I'm good," he shot back smugly. "Now listen up, I got a question for you." When Poseidon didn't answer, he drilled his thumbs in the center of his pits, drawing devastatingly ticklish circles.

"Whahahat?" he cried out, frustration and desperation mingling. Why couldn't this mortal just shut his fucking mouth for five minutes?

Odysseus leaned in with a sadistic grin as he asked, "So, how does it feel to be helpless?" The question caught Poseidon off guard, nearly choking on his own laughter. "How's it feel knowing you can't escape?"

"Thahat's m-mighty presumptuous ohohof you," he challenged, even as he fought off his mirth.

Odysseus snapped his head down to look at him, eyes wide in shock as a bewildered smile tugged at his lips. "Wait, can you escape?" he asked, genuinely curious now. He'd seen Poseidon move around as if he were water, and for all he knew, maybe he was. Yet his body felt solid and firm beneath his touch.

Odysseus just might be hallucinating, because he could swear Poseidon blushed at the question.

"Ehehenough! You dohohon't thihink I'm tryihihing?" he snapped defensively, tugging on his trapped arms with renewed effort. The truth of the matter was, Poseidon technically could escape if he really tried. But using his powers to slip away so easily just felt wrong. He was a God for crying out loud, he should be able to free himself with his strength alone! And at this point, he was determined to do so.

Odysseus studied him before answering. "I think you could try a little harder," he goaded, skittering his nails over the tense muscles of his arms. Poseidon's voice jumped in pitch, bordering on shrill.

"Ohoho whahat do you knohow ahahanyways?" he challenged through breathless snickers. It was meant as a rhetorical question, really. So why then, did Odysseus feel the need to answer?

"I know you're pretty damn ticklish for a God," he shot back, relishing in the way Poseidon glared at him; cheeks flushed and mouth agape in shock.

"Excuse me?" he choked out, struggling to keep his laughter contained. Even in his delirious state, he had to admire the sheer audacity.

"You're excused," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke, smirking at the way Poseidon rolled his eyes.

"You're really not ahas funny as you thihihink," he managed to complain with minimal chuckles.

Odysseus looked down at him, tilting his head to the side with mock innocence. "Really? Then why're you laughing?" He punctuated the question by fluttering his fingers behind his ears.

Poseidon shook his head, scrunching his neck as real, honest to the Gods giggles spilled past his lips.

"Oops, my mistake. Why are you giggling?" Odysseus "corrected" himself, sporting a sly grin.

"Ihihi aham nohohot!" he insisted, despite the bubbly laughter lacing his words.

"Denial looks good on you," he quipped back, tracing along the edges of his ear fins. Poseidon's eyes flew wide open as a dark blush spread across his cheeks.

"Ihihit does nohohot!" he argued, trying his best to sound intimidating. Apparently it didn't work as intended, seeing as Odysseus was cooing at him.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," he goaded, gently pinching his ear, just to hear him shriek. Poseidon flinched away from the touch with a snort.

"Aw, you must be really ticklish here," he added with amusement. Poseidon shook his head frantically, bubbly giggles gurgling in the back of his throat. Odysseus now realized that his laughter just sounded like that. How cute.

"Nohoho! S-stohohop!" he pleaded. The light, teasing touch was downright maddening, and he couldn't take the relentless teasing.

"No thanks, I'm good," Odysseus casually shrugged him off. He scratched blunt nails against the thin skin of his fins, drawing out the most endearing snickers.

"Why you little- wait, dohohon't!" he protested when he saw a mischievous smirk flash across the mortal's face. But there was nothing he could do to stop him when hands latched onto his hips. He bucked like a wild horse, head thrown back as booming cackles escaped him.

"Don't what?"

"Your stupid trihihicks won't work ohon mehehe!" he yelled, thrashing from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the torturous hands squeezing his hips.

Odysseus heaved a sigh and shrugged, "Oh well, it was worth a shot." He moved down to knead his thighs, flinching at the scream that filled the air. He pulled back to cover his ears, allowing Poseidon a moment to catch his breath.

"Oho fuck you, I'm not being that loud!" he snapped defensively. Odysseus opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, the sky lit up with a web of lighting as thunder roared overhead. Poseidon gawked up at the sky, a dark blue blush spreading across his cheeks as Odysseus doubled over in laughter.

"I think your brother would beg to differ!" he cheered mockingly, poking all over his belly. Poseidon snorted and curled in on himself, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't escape the unbearable feeling of fingers on his skin.

"Just shut thehe fuck up! I'll kihihill both of you!" he threatened. Odysseus rolled his eyes as another clap of thunder sounded above, mocking him. This couldn't possibly get any worse.

"I really don't think you could kill anyone right now," he taunted, squeezing down his thighs until he got to his knees, and a loud snort slipped out. He stayed there for a few agonizing seconds before turning around, straddling his legs. And that could only mean one thing.

"Wait! Nohoho!" he shrieked as Odysseus scraped his blunt nails down his soles. He scrunched his feet and kicked as much as he could, but his legs were pinned fairly well, and he was weak from laughter.

"Aw, you have webbing between your toes! That's honestly pretty adorable," he taunted with a fond smile.

"Wha- no it's not!" Poseidon sputtered, fighting off a blush and doing a rather poor job. "I live in the water, what the fuck did you expect?"

"Y’know what? I don't like your tone," Odysseus said, scribbling along his arches. He let out a giggly yelp, jerking beneath the touch.

"Ohoho fuck you! Just lehehet me gohoho!"

"I'll stop whenever you want, just call off the storm!" he insisted in a snide, taunting tone.

"I-I cahahan't!" Poseidon lied as he desperately tried to think of any other way out of the mess he'd gotten himself into.

"We'll see about that," Odysseus called his bluff, glaring down at him with playful malice. He held down his ankles and grabbed his toes, stretching them back. He began furiously scribbling the webbing between his toes, and the reaction was immediate.

Poseidon kicked his trapped legs, scrunching his toes as much as he could. Bubbly giggles and shrieks escaped him as Odysseus continued to rub the thin webbing. His nose was scrunched adorably as he snorted and shook his head frantically.

"Stohohop!" he pleaded once more, but Odysseus wasn't so eager to let him off the hook. At least, not yet.

"You didn't stop when I begged you, so why should I?" he justified the prolonged cruelty.

"Behehecause I fucking sahahay sohoho!" he ordered in between helpless snickers.

That was the last straw. Poseidon was going to cave, one way or another; Odysseus would make sure of it.

He spun around suddenly, vengeance flashing in his eyes. "You still think you're in control?" he challenged, digging into his gills without warning. Poseidon was caught off guard by the change of spots, screaming and wheezing through hysterics.

"NOHOHO! Y-YOU MOHOHONSTER!" he wailed at the top of his lungs. He arched his back, struggling to free himself. He threw his head back in frustration, cackles flowing freely from his smiling mouth.

Odysseus scoffed at the insult and rolled his eyes. "A tickle monster, maybe," he agreed with a snide chuckle. "But didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our-"

"Ahalrihihight! Plehehease!" he begged, finally admitting defeat. As much as it pains him to say it, he just couldn’t take any more.

Odysseus wore a satisfied grin as he stared down at him. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Now was that so hard?” Poseidon rolled his eyes, a fading blush still dusting his cheeks.

“Incredibly so,” he deadpanned. With a heavy sigh and a wave of his trapped hand, the raging ocean calmed. “There you go, you crazy bastard,” he huffed, sounding almost fond.

“Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” Odysseus said, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he stared at the distant shore. “No hard feelings?” he asked, holding his hand out in a show of truce, forgetting for a moment that the God’s hands were still trapped.

In his deliriously giddy state, Poseidon had forgotten he was supposed to be trapped as he begrudgingly shook the mortal’s hand. He shifted form and slipped past the metal prongs on his trident, flowing into his full height as he stood on the rocks.

Odysseus was frozen in shock, looking between Poseidon and his trident.

“So you could get out the whole time?”

Poseidon’s smirk dropped as he realized the mistake he made. “Wait-” he tried to backtrack.

“And you were just letting it happen!” Odysseus added with a mocking smile, taking one last opportunity to tease him.

“Watch it, I can bring back the storm whenever I like!” he threatened, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as it should’ve been. “But I wasn’t going to resort to cheating in order to beat you,” he justified. Odysseus snorted in amusement, arching a brow skeptically.

“Cheating?” he repeated, making Poseidon scoff and drench him with a wave from behind. “Hey!”

“Using my powers to escape so easily would’ve just been cowardly and unfair,” he justified, because that’s totally the only reason…

“Yeah, cause you looked so brave giggling yourself silly,” Odysseus couldn’t help but taunt, enjoying the choked sputtering the comment earned.

“Whatever, it was getting loose. I would’ve broke free any second.”

“Oh? Is that why you tapped out?” he goaded further, still riding high off of the power trip. Poseidon weighed his options, but decided it wasn’t worth it.

“You’ve wasted enough of my time already. You’re lucky I have places to be,” he said, turning towards the water without another word.

“See ya later,” Odysseus called after him with a small wave. Poseidon froze in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder to glare at him.

“No you won’t,” he corrected harshly, flashing a small grin his way before melting into the waves, leaving Odysseus alone.

“Yeah I will,” he said to himself, smiling out at the calm sea.

[giuseppe-yuki]

emotional support animal

yuki tsunoda x bunny shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.3k

warnings: a few curse words, a little violence

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you're labelled as yuki's "emotional support animal" until you become a little more than that

picture credits from pinterest :)

“ughhh!” yuki groans dramatically into the decorative pillow. as he lies face down horizontally across the sofa, he kicks his feet like a baby throwing a tantrum. you sit stool on the other side of his drivers room, sipping a sugar-free red bull, unimpressed. outside, the sun has just risen above the skyline, marking the beginning of the day.

“get up!!” you scold, “michael says you have to be out of the room and onto the track in the next ten minutes- or else!” 

face still buried in the pillow, he mutters out a response. “do i have to? when i have workouts, especially in the morning, it just ruins my whole day.” 

“um, yes?” you say incredulously. how michael italiano ever got yuki to do anything physically demanding, you would never know. “besides, you’re not even working out today- you’re just doing your track walk around red bull ring.” 

your boyfriend turns around on the sofa, hair ruffled and team kit fairly wrinkled. he stares at the ceiling for a second, as if contemplating something. suddenly, he pushes himself up off the couch and shuffles towards you. “what if… you do that bunny thing you usually do so i can carry you around the track? that way you can come with me on the track walk, and it’ll make it less boring.” 

to an outsider, it sounds like a loving boyfriend wanting to be with his girlfriend. but you knew yuki too well. “you’re only saying that so you have an excuse to leave if michael asks you to go to workout after the track walk, aren’t you?”

he pouts. “no i’m not! i swear” he says unconvincingly.

“okayyy, baby” you reply. "whatever you say." you take one last sip of your drink and turn towards the door. “let’s go.” 

by the time yuki arrived at the meeting spot with michael, you had already fallen asleep in his arms. it was quite comfortable actually, with yuki’s hand cupped protectively underneath your paws, body in loaf position, and head tucked into his side. since it was still early into the day, the heat radiating off his body felt so good against the chilly morning air. his arms rocked you gently while he walked, which only gave you more of a reason to fall asleep. 

it wasn’t until he giggled a little too hard about a joke that michael made about bottoming that you finally awoke from your slumber. 

yuki notices you blinking your sleepy eyes immediately and smiles at you in his arms. he leans forwards, gives you a kiss top off your fluffy head, and whispers into your soft ears, “fell asleep huh? And you were the one getting mad at me for trying to take a nap on the couch!” 

you nibble a little bit on his shirt to show your annoyance, but he just giggles and gives you a few pats on the head.

michael looks onto the scene with an amused look on his face. “i originally wasn’t gonna ask, but what’s up with the bunny?”

“err, well shes my…emotional support animal.” yuki says, giving you a few extra pats for emphasis. 

emotional support animal? that was a new one.

yuki carried you everywhere the rest of race weekend, after the news of his new "emotional support animal" circled around the paddock. people approached you both often, causing you to reach a point of mini stardom with the paddock staff and younger fans, with guenther steiner asking to pet you, suzie wolff wondering if she could hold you, and little girls dressed in full ferrari attire requesting a picture of you. honestly, you didn’t mind it one bit, because you just had to sit in yuki’s arms and you could get free pets and head scratches the whole day. he even brought you to the media pen to keep him company. it wasn’t until a vcarb fan event that it started getting a little rough.

“yuki, may i pet your bunny?” a sweet looking little boy says, approaching him. yuki had placed you on the ground because was mostly signing posters and taking pictures, so you hopped closer towards the boy, as if saying yes. he throws a glance at his mother, who is chatting up your boyfriend about the results that weekend, and then promptly throws himself at you. you hop back in surprise, but he has already caught you in his arms. he roughly pets you, and even yanks on your ears, hard. 

you let out a squeak of pain, and that’s when yuki immediately snatches you back from the boy’s arms. he holds you close against his chest, comforting you. “do not do that.” he chastises the boy. his mother, realizing what he has done, grabs the boy quickly, apologizes, and rushes off. 

if that boy held you for a second more, you surely would have bit his finger off, you thought to yourself. you hesitantly let others pet you, but stayed on high alert. it wouldn’t happen again, right? 

this time, a man in full vcarb attire stumbles his way towards yuki. in his hand is bloody mary, topped with a piece of celery and lemon on the rim of the glass. he’s clearly a little drunk. still, your boyfriend smiles at him kindly and offers to sign the cap that the fan is wearing. the drunk fan yanks his cap off of his head in rush to give it to him, accidentally sloshing some of his drink onto you.

are you actually kidding me right now? you think, a little pissed off. that’s gonna be so hard to get off of my fur!

you turn around, thumping your foot, and nibbles on the fan’s shoelaces as a warning. the fan immediately notices this, and roughly knocks you aside with his boot. 

your eyes widen, and you scurry back behind yuki’s feet.

yuki immediately drops his sharpie and the fan’s hat and picks you up. “bro, what the fuck? you did not just kick my bunny,” he says angrily. “she was chewing your shoelaces because you just spilled your drink all over her!” he points to the red liquid and piece of celery leaf clearly stuck to the side of your fur.

“it doesn’t matter; just sign my hat. i paid a lot of money to be here!” the fan responds, nonchalantly. “besides, its probably some stupid wild bunny that climbed out of the trees from around the circuit. why do you care anyways?”

sensing an issue, daniel, who was signing caps next to yuki, stood up and called security over. fans in line had their phones out, recording the drama that was unfolding. you shrink back into yuki’s arms, a little offended from the fan's words.

before yuki could respond, the man reaches forward and pushes him, hard. your boyfriend stumbles back a few steps, but catches himself. 

you gasp internally. oh there is no way that guy just touched my man like that! you launch yourself out of yuki’s arms and directly at the man, claws out. you scratch and bite every surface you could reach. by the time security arrived, the man had a big cut on his face, multiple bite marks and a torn up shirt. 

when news of the incident circulated around the paddock, you were rebranded as yuki’s “attack bunny.” you laughed when you found out that night, lying horizontal on the plush hotel bed on yuki. you hold out your phone to his face level, showing him the new article on your phone.

“look baby, i’m not your emotional support animal anymore; i’m now your attack bunny!” you giggle, head in his lap.

yuki laughs too, and tucks a strand of your hair behind your face. his face immediately morphs into one of concern though. “are you sure you are okay though?” he asks for the thousandth time that day. “i know i asked you after the incident but i want to make sure you are actually okay, and you don’t have any secret broken ribs or anything.”

“yes, i’m fine,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “that weirdo just scared me, that’s all. i’m pretty sure he’s the one that’s not okay after i was done with him!” 

 “okay,” yuki says, smiling down at you in his lap. “i guess now i know i don’t need security anymore- i have a reliable attack bunny to protect me!” 

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby

[loveharlow]

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[10.2k] Trapped with Rafe and held hostage on acres of land, you manage to help yourself and reunite with your people and your person

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of non-con/alluded to, typical obx violence

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

NOW PLAYING‧₊

SUNLIGHT, harsh and unwelcome, sliced through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the lazy dance of dust motes in the stagnant air. You sat on the edge of the king-sized mattress, the last few hazy hours a jumbled mess in your mind, desperately searching for an escape route. Rafe lay in a heavy sleep on the floor as the chirping of birds drifted in from outside the window, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Time had blurred since you'd been trapped in the room, but Singh's message had been chillingly clear — there was only one way out. Yet, without your friends, a knot of helplessness tightened in your chest, leaving you with only yourself to truly rely on. Trusting Rafe felt like a gamble, a wild card in an already precarious situation. He himself was an enigma, a dangerous one at that.

Slowly, you rose from the bed, tiptoeing towards the window, careful not to rouse the slumbering Cameron boy.

Peeking through the sheer curtains, you spotted a guard with his back turned. An idea sparked. Raising a closed fist, you tapped on the glass — a soft knock, but loud enough to catch his attention. He turned, annoyance and confusion etched on his face.

"Hey," you murmured, hoping your voice carried. "I need…to talk," you began, gesturing with your hands for emphasis. "To Mr. Singh." You offered a tight, grimace-like smile. He simply raised an eyebrow. Rolling your eyes, you knocked again as he started to turn away. "Hey, no!" you whisper-shouted. "Go get Mr. Singh," you tried again through the glass.

"...What're you doin'?" A deep, gravelly voice startled you. You flinched slightly, glancing at Rafe over your shoulder before pointedly ignoring him.

"Hey, you." You refocused on the guard. The rustling of a blanket and soft footsteps behind you signaled Rafe's swift ascent from the floor.

"Shut up," he warned, bewildered by your actions. "Shut up. Shut up."

You disregarded his demands. "I need.. to talk.. to Mr. Singh."

"What the hell're you doin'?" Rafe crept up behind you, his wide, terrified eyes peering over your shoulder.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" you retorted, briefly flicking your gaze towards him as you continued to rap your knuckles against the windowpane.

"Think for a second—" Rafe began, his palms hovering above your shoulders, careful not to touch.

You stopped knocking and turned to face him. "Look, I'd rather have the guards drag me out of this room by my busted leg than spend another second in here with you waiting to find out if we're going to die or not," you snapped before stalking towards the bedroom door, leaving Rafe frozen by the window, a deer caught in headlights.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" His voice grew increasingly agitated, his fists clenching and unclenching as you pounded your fist against the wooden door.

"Hello?" you called out, projecting your voice, a frustrated edge to it. You just wanted someone to offer a better solution.

"No one's coming—"

"Don't talk to me," you shot back, your angry gaze fixed on Rafe as you stood panting in front of the door, desperately trying to formulate a plan. Any plan.

Rafe seized the opportunity to approach you slowly, closing the distance between you to less than a foot. Your eyes remained glued to the floor as he spoke. "...You're lyin'. About this diary thing." His voice held a note of forced confidence, but the sheen of sweat on his forehead betrayed his anxiety. "You know where it is."

Taking a step forward, you finally met his gaze. "No," you said, your voice sharp. "I don't." You affirmed before brushing past him. God, this room felt suffocatingly small.

"Right…" Rafe scoffed, lowering his head and chuckling humorlessly as you resumed your assault on the window.

"Hey!" you tried, louder this time.

"Look, I wouldn't tell me either. But he's never gonna believe we don't know somethin', alright?" Rafe began, his anxiety bubbling to the surface as he trailed after you, speaking to your back. You ignored him, continuing your desperate attempts to gain the guard's attention, much to Rafe's growing frustration. "Listen. Hey, Singh killed that man—"

"Okay— Don't!" you shouted, your voice cracking as you felt the warm tips of Rafe's fingers brush against your arm. You whirled around to face him, a storm of emotions brewing within you.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, your lip curled in anger as Rafe waited for the tension in your shoulders to ease, even slightly, before speaking.

"Look around," he said slowly, his eyes locked on yours. "...I'm the only friend you've got."

You offered no verbal response, only a malevolent stare before the bedroom door creaked open, drawing both your attention. A guard entered the room. You wasted no time walking towards him, looking up at the uniformed man. "I need to talk to Mr. Singh," you declared, meeting his gaze directly. "It's important."

The guard eyed you and Rafe carefully before seemingly detecting nothing amiss. "...Yes," he nodded down at you, grasping your upper arm and leading you out of the room, leaving Rafe behind.

"WHAT IS THAT?" Sarah asked, sitting up from her slouched position, her eyes fixed on JJ across the dilapidated hotel where he was idly tapping his fingers on a phone screen.

"This is a little souvenir I plucked from Portis' pocket," he told her without looking up. The six of your friends were still holed up in the crumbling, abandoned building, biding their time against Singh's men and trying to formulate a viable plan.

"You have a phone?" Sarah asked incredulously.

"I forgot I had it. It was in my back pocket. My bad," your boyfriend apologized, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"Oh my God, dude…" Pope groaned, rolling his head back and forth in exasperation. "Can we go anywhere without you stealin' somethin'?" he asked, pushing himself up from where he had been lying.

"You know the answer to that, Pope…" JJ replied absently, still engrossed in exploring the phone's contents.

"Nice work, rude boy," Cleo praised from her spot in a discarded lawn chair, her eyes following Pope as he approached his friend.

"Let me see it," Pope suggested, and JJ handed over the cellular device. "How'd you get this unlocked?"

"No passcode. Portis keeps it loose."

"What're you looking for?" Kiara chimed in from her cross-legged position on the floor next to Sarah.

"Any information that'll help us negotiate with this guy," Pope answered, scrolling through the phone. "Only problem is…I don't see a Carlos Singh in the contacts. It's just a bunch'a nicknames 'n shit."

"Wait…" Sarah started, her brows furrowing as she placed a hand on her hip. "Didn't Portis call him something else?"

"...Yeah, you're right," JJ concluded, freezing in thought. "He called Singh somethin' when we were jumpin' his ass…" He pondered, a hand resting on his chin. "It was like Rockfish or—"

"Can't remember," Cleo muttered to herself.

"Blowfish?" Kie offered, mostly to herself as she sat thinking.

"Catfish?" Pope muttered, twirling a strand of his curly hair between his fingers.

"Kingfish..." John B murmured from where he was dozing, his head resting on a pile of fabric, his eyes still closed.

Your friends' muttered brainstorming trailed off, a brief silence settling over the space. "Kingfish!" JJ exclaimed, snapping his fingers and tapping Pope's shoulder. "That was it."

"King…" Pope drawled, slowly scrolling through the contacts until he found it. "Fish. There he is," he affirmed, tilting the phone for JJ to see.

"And we in business," JJ declared, slapping Pope a high-five. "Alright, phase two. Text him, 'kay?"

Pope's face twisted into a look of apprehension. "...And say what, exactly?"

"You said it," JJ shrugged, guiding Pope. "Negotiate, right? Pretend to be Portis, ask him to meet somewhere in private. Bam — we jump his ass, tie him up, and then politely ask for my girl in return for his life." He concluded, the rest of your friends exchanging weary glances and tight-lipped grimaces.

"...'s not a bad idea," John B added, finally sitting up and joining the impromptu strategy session.

"Not a bad idea? It's terrific—"

"Okay, I'm gonna say it," Kiara began, holding up her hands as a signal for her friends to quiet down. "We should think this through."

"What's rule number one? Thinking never helps when you already have an idea," JJ countered dismissively.

"No, no, no, hang on…" Sarah interjected, re-entering the conversation. "I agree with Kie. This could make things ten times worse for us and Y/N."

"How much worse can it actually get?" John B argued, dragging his hands down his face, his earlier calm demeanor rapidly eroding with each passing hour.

"I can think of a few ways," Sarah shrugged.

"Okay, great. While you're thinking, why don't you just let it rip?" John B dismissed his girlfriend, turning to JJ and encouraging the blonde as he snatched the phone from Pope's hands and began typing out a message.

"I LIED." You stated simply, standing barefoot and clad in the pajamas Singh's staff had provided. The man in question sat at the head of the imposing dining room table. The guard had all but shoved you into the room, leaving you and Singh alone. "I know about the diary." You nodded, your gaze direct. Singh took a deep breath, his lips curling in a flicker of frustration. "I don't have the original…" you continued, your stare unwavering. "But I can get you a copy."

A slow smirk spread across the man's features. He nodded, his eyes dropping to the polished surface of the table before him. He remained silent for a few moments, the stillness amplifying the tension in the room, until he finally looked back at you. "I'm relieved to hear you say that, you know," he said with a disarming smile, plucking a grape from his plate and tossing it into his mouth before gesturing to the seat beside him. "May I offer you somethin' to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," you replied simply, your voice flat and your eyes boring into his.

"Relax…" Singh drawled, leaning back in his chair, a picture of false ease. "Nothing's gonna happen to you now. You're cooperatin', and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, y'know."

Your fingers fidgeted lightly at your sides, a subtle betrayer of your inner turmoil. "I just wanna get you what you want, and then I want to leave," you expressed, your voice firm despite the tremor in your hands. "I know where it is," you stated. "But I have to go by myself. Alone."

Singh simply let his head fall back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "But how would I know that you'd come back? You know, I need some collateral."

Your lips tightened into a thin line. "Rafe's here," you shrugged, the movement dismissive. "Keep him," you suggested, your tone sharp and laced with a calculated indifference.

"Rafe…" Singh mused, a low laugh escaping his throat as he rose from his seat and began to walk slowly towards you. "How did someone so young…get into so much trouble?" he inquired, his hands slipping into his pockets as he circled you with a predatory grace.

"...Look, I know where the diary is, and if you let me go, I promise you…" you began, meeting Singh's gaze. "I can get it to you," you lied, the words feeling like ash in your mouth.

The man stopped in his tracks, turning to face you from his new position just a few feet away. "I built this fortune myself, you know. From nothin'. From absolutely nothin'," he emphasized, pointing a finger at you. "Do you know how that happened, Miss Carter? Hm?" he pressed, closing the remaining space between you. "I can assure you it was not by bein' a fool. Don't waste my time. The diary holds the key to the ultimate conquest, and that, my young friend, is my destiny," he gritted out, his eyes hardening. "So, you need to tell me where it is, or I'm gonna—" Carlos's menacing rant was abruptly cut short by the distinct ringtone of a phone, a single text notification chiming from his device on the nearby coffee table.

Singh ran his ring-adorned hands down his face, momentarily breaking eye contact as he walked away from you, leaving you standing in stunned silence. Picking up the phone and unlocking it, a low laugh immediately rumbled in his chest. "Amazin'," he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he turned back to you. "A text from our friend, Jimmy Portis." He angled the phone across the room, displaying the text thread. "From beyond the grave, apparently," he theatricized. "It seems Mr. Portis has captured your friends." He moved closer, a perverse delight in his eyes as he showed you the message – a grainy photo of John B and Sarah, captioned simply: 'I got these two'.

"Hmph," Singh scoffed, lowering the phone and looking away from you, his attention now elsewhere. "Ryan!" he called out sharply. You could only assume that was one of his men, and a cold dread washed over you as you realized any fragile hope of your friends' plan succeeding was rapidly dissolving.

"YO...HE'S TEXTIN'! HE'S TEXTIN'!" JJ announced excitedly to his friends, his eyes glued to the phone screen as they all rushed over, crowding around him.

"What's he sayin'?" John B asked, pushing his way through the group.

"Nah, it's doin' like the little bubble thing," JJ corrected, still intently watching the device in his hands. Just then, the phone vibrated with a reply. "...Send me your location," he read aloud. "I'll come meet you."

"He wants to know our location?" Pope asked in disbelief, standing near the edge of the hotel archway.

"Yeah, that's exactly what we wanted," JJ shrugged, a smug grin spreading across his face.

"We can't give Singh our location," Cleo immediately countered, shaking her head firmly. "Just give him some random place," she suggested.

JJ sighed dramatically. "Alright. Where?" he asked, looking around the dilapidated hotel. "Where do we want to send him to?"

"What about the horse tracks?" Kiara offered. "I saw them yesterday. It's a wide, open space. We can use surveillance."

"And if we have to make a getaway, we can just hop on some horses," JJ finished, snapping his fingers and pointing at Kie. "Guns a-blazin'!"

"No, no…" John B stopped his best friend, holding a hand out. "We're not horse-backing with guns."

"John B, we can really plan this out, man," Pope surprisingly agreed with JJ. "What're you thinkin'?" he asked, still open to hearing the Routledge boy's alternative when the phone buzzed again.

"Jus' got another text," JJ announced, his face falling as he turned to the group and read it aloud. "Never mind. I just tracked your location…" His cheerful tone vanished. "...And I'm sending my men. They'll be there in ten minutes to pick you up."

A tense, awkward silence descended upon the group as JJ pursed his lips, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet while everyone else stared at him with matching expressions of disappointment and bewilderment.

"Wait a minute," John B began, his eyes narrowed as he tried to process the situation. "Did you turn off your location?" he questioned JJ, his tone laced with reprimand.

JJ stood silently for a moment, glancing around at everyone before attempting to speak. "...So—"

"You didn't turn the location off?!" Pope exclaimed, jumping up, followed by everyone else, swiftly closing in on the hapless Maybank boy.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" JJ protested as they all crowded around him, trying to pry the phone from his grasp.

"Turn the location off!" Kiara shouted.

"I have a Samsung!" JJ tried to defend himself as John B successfully wrestled the device from his fingers.

"I have a Samsung, too!" JB retorted, shooting JJ a sharp glare as he disabled location services for Portis' phone.

"What're we gonna do?" Pope worried, running his hands through his hair.

"It's done, okay?" John B said, throwing his hands up in exasperation and then running one through his hair. "We just gotta figure something out…"

"And hope he doesn't kill us?" Kie snapped, her voice laced with fear.

"Guys, we're runnin' out of time…" Cleo stressed, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously.

"Okay," JJ began, holding up his hands to signal for silence as everyone turned to him. "I know y'all might not wanna hear it, but we got home-field advantage. We can turn this around." He started, cocking his hat onto his head with a confident smirk. "We're gonna booby-trap this shit," he declared. "We're not runnin' from this dude. This is our best chance to get Y/N back. It's gonna work, alright? We got ten minutes. Come on!"

"GET THE BIG TRUCKS AND MEET ME IN THE BACK," Singh commanded one of his men as you trailed behind him, your eyes fixed on his back as he manipulated his phone.

"Mr. Singh…" you began tentatively, unsure of his exact intentions but knowing they boded ill.

"Fenton," Singh snapped his fingers, then pointed behind him directly at you without so much as a glance. "Get Ms. Carter," he ordered, the named guard swiftly obeying, seizing you roughly around the waist as you struggled against his grip.

"Please, don't— Don't hurt my friends!" you pleaded, fear lacing your voice as the man dragged you away and up the stairs. Only then did Singh acknowledge you, watching as you were carried away from the bottom of the staircase.

"That depends, Ms. Carter," he called up to you. "We'll continue our chat later."

"They didn't do anything!" you choked out, almost crying as the guard roughly shoved you up the remaining steps, nearly causing you to trip as you reached the top.

"Inside," the guard barked, shoving open the bedroom door and pushing you back into the familiar space where Rafe stood by the window. Fenton wasted no time in slamming the door shut and locking it with a decisive click.

You took a shuddering breath, desperately trying to quell the tears welling in your eyes as you ran your fingers through the roots of your hair, pointedly ignoring Rafe's presence as you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands.

"...What happened?" Rafe finally spoke, now standing a few feet in front of you. You remained unresponsive, massaging the heels of your hands into the sockets of your eyes. Rafe simply huffed, dropping his hands to his sides and shrugging at your silence. "You're gonna have to talk to me at some point. Okay?"

You froze at his words, slowly lowering your hands and clasping them tightly in front of you as you finally met his gaze. "...Do I have to remind you of everything you've done?" you asked, your voice low and dangerously flat. Rafe inhaled deeply as you shook your head at him, the boy shoving his hands into his pockets. "You killed Peterkin. Do you even remember that?" you threw out, aiming a cruel jab at his addiction. "And everything you've put my friends through? Your own sister? Me?"

"Peterkin…" Rafe muttered, his tongue tracing the inside of his cheek. "I was protecting my father," he gritted out, taking a step closer to you. "Okay? I did what I had to, so…" His face twisted defensively, and he held up a hand as he turned and walked towards the windows. "Don't," he dismissed your unspoken accusations as you sat silently, your lip curled in disgust at his self-justification. He truly seemed to believe he was in the right. And perhaps, in his twisted reality, he was.

You watched as he sank into the armchair by the window, adjusting himself before speaking. "I'm as much a victim as she is," he blurted out, and you scoffed, raising your eyebrows in disbelief. "No? Think about it," he pressed, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees. "What did I get from shooting Peterkin, huh? Nothing. Okay?" he explained, and you simply sighed, hugging your knees tightly to your chest as you remained perched on the edge of the mattress. "I had nothing against her. I…I liked her. You think I wanted to make that choice? Huh?" Rafe continued his disjointed explanation, pointing emphatically at himself.

"...What I did was a gift from me to my father for...for him," he rambled on. A gift, you thought with a bitter irony. In the month you were gone, you had blissfully avoided having to navigate Rafe's warped perceptions. "And I got screwed because of it, okay? So don't give me that look when I say I'm a victim, alright? I am!—"

"I am the last person who'd ever want to hear your victim statement, Rafe." you snapped, your eyes burning into him from across the room, your jaw clenched tight. "I don't give a shit about you or your daddy issues, for a number of reasons…" you hissed, turning your gaze away as silence once again descended upon the tense room.

"...I admit what I did was wrong," he began slowly, and you simply scoffed, dropping your head in weary resignation. "To…to you, to Sarah…" he continued, his voice growing shaky, and you saw the glint of moisture in his eyes. "She was family, and I should've never touched her, and with you, I— I don't know, I just lose control, and I don't know what happens. I'm trying, okay? I'm trying to get better…" He choked out, a soft sob escaping as tears finally spilled down his cheekbones, and he pressed his hands to his eyes.

"Yeah…" you sighed, your gaze drifting to the ceiling, a silent plea for escape from this impossible situation.

Rafe fidgeted with the rings on his fingers as he paced the small room, finally stopping directly in front of you. "It doesn't matter, I know," he began, his voice low. "All I'm sayin' is just... that I'm not the bad guy you think I am, okay? But even if I was…you got no choice. You may not wanna trust me, but I'm your best bet," he said, taking slow, deliberate steps closer. "Look," he knelt before you, his hands reaching out as if to land on your knees, but he hesitated at your sharp look, leaving his palms hovering just above them. "...I got a boat that can get us off the island. 'Kay? But first, we gotta get out of here, and it is better if we work together," he proposed, looking up at you from the floor, his expression a mixture of desperation and something that might have been sincerity.

You offered no immediate response, carefully assessing his face, searching for any flicker of genuine remorse or the tell-tale signs of deception. Suddenly, the roar of an engine outside the bedroom window snagged your attention. You rose quickly from the bed and peered out to see at least half a dozen armored and armed guards loading into a large truck.

"They're leavin'?" Rafe questioned from beside you.

"They're going to find John B…" you began, turning away from the window to look at him, a grim realization dawning. "And your sister," you informed him, brushing past him as you began to pace the room, your mind racing.

"...Sucks for them," he said, still looking out the window, his tone surprisingly detached. "That's good for us, though," he shrugged, finally turning back to you. "This may be our only shot at getting out of here."

"THIS IS LIKE THE HAWK'S NEST PART TWO. I'M NOT DOING THIS." John B shook his head vehemently, backing away from where your six friends peered down into the gaping maw of a broken elevator shaft. The sounds of Singh's men swarming the abandoned building echoed around them. "Gotta be a better option, right?" he blurted out, anxiety etched across his face.

"That's a serious drop..." Pope stressed, his hand instinctively going to the top of his head as he stared into the darkness. "I think we need to analyze this from a risk-reward perspective."

"How 'bout I go first and you cushion my fall?" JJ offered, a hint of dark humor in his voice, though the heavy, rapid footsteps were growing alarmingly close.

"How about no—" Pope began, turning to face the blonde beside him, but Cleo cut him off, pushing her way between the two boys.

"Yeah, whateva, forget t'is shit." She exclaimed, lunging into the elevator car and grabbing the dangling rope inside, beginning her descent in slow, precarious increments.

"...Okay." Pope tilted his head, a mixture of awe and disbelief at her impulsive bravery.

"Sarah…" John B started, catching the determined glint in his girlfriend's eyes before he could stop her. The Cameron girl was already sprinting towards the open shaft. "No, no— Sarah!" he shouted after her, watching as she followed Cleo's lead, latching onto the other available rope and sliding down.

"Clear the next floor!" A booming voice echoed through the crumbling structure, leaving just four of your friends standing exposed like sitting ducks. A tense moment passed before JJ and Pope exchanged a look, their lips tightening into matching thin lines.

"Okay. Same time." They said in unison, bracing themselves and leaping into the elevator shaft together. The scraping sound of their feet against the wall as they swayed echoed in the confined space, causing Cleo and Sarah, who had safely reached the lower floor, to look up with concern.

"C'mon, guys!" Cleo urged.

"Where's John B?!" Sarah asked, her voice laced with worry. "And Kie?!"

"I'm coming!" Kiara replied, glancing at John B and nodding her head towards the shaft. Without waiting for his response, she followed her four friends, running forward and reaching for the rope.

Noticing the absence of the sixth member, Sarah tried again, her voice rising with urgency. "John B, come on!"

Unseen by the group, the resonant tolling of a bell had snagged John B's attention, freezing him in his tracks just two steps away from following his friends. The sound seemed to mesmerize him, gluing his feet to the floor as his gaze snapped to the left, spotting a building perched on a distant hill that appeared to be the source. The pattern of the bell's ringing was eerily familiar, a nostalgic string of words surfacing in his mind...

"Bring it on home, John B!"

His father's voice echoed in his ears, a vivid memory flashing behind his eyes. Images of a time before everything had gone wrong, before the darkness had descended. Who was ringing that damn bell? 

It couldn't be...but what if it was?

The sharp sound of another voice shattered his reverie. "Hey!" a guard shouted. John B whirled around, startled, to find one of Singh's men drawing his gun. He cursed under his breath, quickly leaping into the shaft just as the guard managed to fire a shot, the bullet narrowly missing him. "They're up here!"

JJ and Pope had just landed on the lower floor, leaving Kiara the only one still descending when they all looked up at the sound of the gunshot. They saw John B swinging wildly on the rope as the guard continued to fire rounds, the bullets impacting the wall behind him.

Panic seized John B, his grip on the rope loosening. He plummeted down the length of the empty shaft, landing with a sickening thud on top of a helpless Kiara. The two of them hit the floor with a jarring boom just as your other friends scrambled out of the way.

"You okay?" Sarah asked, rushing to help them both up.

"We gotta go!" Cleo urged, extending a hand to assist them as well.

JJ glanced up to see the guard on the upper floor aiming his weapon down at your friends. Reacting instantly, the blonde took the initiative as the others helped John B and Kiara to their feet, drawing his own weapon and firing upwards as the guard continued to shoot down.

"Go, go, go!" John B ordered, limping slightly and wincing with each step, Kiara mirroring his discomfort. Your group of friends scattered from their exposed position, cautiously moving around the building to evade the patrolling guards before Cleo spotted a blind spot, silently leading them through the opening.

"JUST GET AWAY FROM ME!" Your voice echoed off the bedroom walls as you faced Rafe.

"I'm tired of this shit! I'm gonna kill you," Rafe yelled back, the raw sound of his voice making your heart leap with fear, even though you knew the feigned intent behind it. The two of you had spent the last half hour meticulously devising a plan, a desperate gamble you now hoped would unfold as intended.

Grabbing a vase from the corner of the room, Rafe hurled it against the wall. Glass shattered explosively as you let out a sharp cry of pain, a theatrical performance aimed at convincing the patrolling guard outside the bedroom door that you were genuinely hurt. An unnerving silence descended upon the room, both of you holding your breath, waiting to see if the commotion had alerted the guard to any real trouble.

"...Ay, you two!" he called through the solid wood of the door, the faint shadow of his boots visible beneath it. "What'd you do?!" He tried again after the silence stretched, a clear hesitancy creeping into his voice. You remained quiet, hoping to escalate his concern and increase the likelihood of him opening the door.

Rafe had already melted into the shadows by the time you heard the distinct click of the lock turning and the slow creak of the door opening, followed by hesitant footsteps entering the room.

You were draped across the bathtub, a single hand and foot dangling over the edge. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the footsteps grew louder and closer, the chilling snick of the guard taking the safety off his gun echoing in the confined space.

"What be this?..." he whispered to himself, cautiously edging further into the bathroom. Unbeknownst to him, Rafe was lurking silently behind the door, patiently waiting for the opportune moment. When the sound of the guard's footsteps shifted, his boots transitioning from the wooden floor to the cool tile of the bathroom, Rafe acted with brutal speed. He slammed the door shut with tremendous force, crushing the guard between the frame and sending his gun flying across the room.

The man cried out in agony as Rafe released the door, immediately capitalizing on the guard's pain by delivering a sharp punch to his jaw. You swiftly pushed yourself out of the tub, turning to witness the unfolding chaos, watching as Rafe landed another brutal punch, sending the man sprawling to the floor. But he didn't stop there.

Seizing a nearby lamp, Rafe raised it above his head before bringing it down with a sickening crash against the guard's back, the object shattering into pieces. You made a quick move to secure the guard's fallen weapon, stepping out of the bathroom to find Rafe pressing down forcefully on the man's back. "Stay down," he gritted out. "You understand?"

"Huge mistake," the man groaned, his hand reaching towards his side pocket, but you were quick to warn him against it as Rafe increased the pressure on his shoulder blades.

"Hey, don't move!" you ordered, pointing the gun at the back of his head and cocking it back with a sharp click to emphasize your point.

"Gimme the phone," Rafe grunted, snatching the device from the man's pocket and then securing his hands together with zip ties. You swiftly grabbed a nearby drape from the bed and handed it to Rafe.

"Here," you urged, offering him the fabric. "Tie him up," you instructed, your gun still trained on the incapacitated guard. As Rafe tightly bound the guard's hands, you cautiously lowered the gun. Once the man was fully restrained, the two of you worked quickly and silently to leave the room, Rafe carefully closing the door behind you.

"This way. C'mon," Rafe urged, panting slightly as he led you down a flight of stairs – but not the main ones. You never imagined finding yourself in such a precarious situation, especially one where you were willingly collaborating with Rafe.

"Rafe," you whispered, trailing after him, struggling to keep pace with his quick, furtive movements as he crept through the house. "Rafe…Rafe, Rafe—"

"What?" he whispered back, finally stopping as he ducked behind a cracked door.

"Let me see the phone," you suggested, holding out your hand. His brows furrowed momentarily, but he reached into his pocket, fishing out the device.

"Why?" he questioned, yet still produced the phone.

"Just…give it to me," you rolled your eyes, impatiently waiting.

"Okay…" he drawled, holding the phone just out of your reach as you reached for it. "Give me the gun."

You recoiled at his words, shaking your head immediately. "No."

"I give you the phone, you gimme the gun—"

"I said no," you affirmed, your brows set in a firm line. You wouldn't trust Rafe with a paperclip given his past actions and potential for violence, let alone a loaded firearm. His eyes scanned yours for a moment, annoyance flickering before a slight softening.

"Fine," he dismissed the argument, holding the phone out for you to take. "You ready?" he asked, his gaze flicking between you and the partially open door. He pushed it open just enough to reveal the silhouette of a guard outside the front door, some distance away, the faint crackle of a voice coming through a radio audible even from inside the house. "Shit," he cursed under his breath, glancing around. "Okay, this way." He attempted to lead, but you moved in the opposite direction, your mind set on getting a picture of the painting in Singh's home to aid your friends.

"Y/N," Rafe whispered angrily, your gaze flicking to him briefly before you returned to typing on the phone. "What're you doin'? Come on."

"Hold on," you replied with equal annoyance, ignoring Rafe as you sent the photo to yourself. Once finished, you met Rafe at the door he was waiting by, following him out of the estate. He guided you quietly along the edge of the property, keeping you behind him. "Can you see?"

"No," you huffed, stepping out from behind where he was peering over the fence. "You're like a tree." You rolled your eyes before focusing on what lay ahead – some yard workers loading hay into the back of a truck just before it pulled away. Your eyes widened as an idea sparked. "I got an idea. C'mon," you urged, not waiting for Rafe as you turned and sprinted away, uncaring whether he followed or not.

You moved quickly but stealthily around the property, trying to intercept the truck wherever it might be headed. You spotted it on the main road, running alongside it, your only obstacle a neatly trimmed hedge. "They're slowing down!" you signaled to Rafe as you heard his footsteps pounding behind yours with each stride. "Come on!"

The truck decelerated as it made a turn, presenting a perfect opportunity for you and Rafe to throw yourselves into the open space in the back, landing on a scratchy, pungent pile of hay. However, you hadn't anticipated the presence of a man already sitting in the back – his eyes widening in surprise and alarm at the sight of the two of you.

"No," he began, scrambling to his feet. "No, no—" His protest was cut short as Rafe surged upwards, grabbing the worker by the collar of his shirt and unleashing a brutal flurry of punches. It was as if he were operating on instinct, violence his default response.

"Rafe," you tried, your voice hoarse as you watched the brutal scene unfold, unable to yell without alerting the driver. But he ignored you, landing another punch before cupping the back of the man's neck and dragging him down into the hay, both of them falling. The man tried to get up – to go where, you had no idea. But Rafe was faster, delivering a hard kick to his chest.

The sight made you wince. As the man doubled over, pleading, Rafe grabbed him by the neck and arm and hauled him over the side of the moving truck. "Rafe!" you nearly cried, leaning over the edge, catching a fleeting glimpse of the battered man rolling on the side of the road as he disappeared from view, the truck continuing its journey.

Words failed you, your mind reeling at the casual brutality you had just witnessed. Your jaw hung slack, eyes wide as you slowly turned to face Rafe, finding him breathing heavily, a raw anger still radiating off him as if he were struggling to contain it.

You took one hesitant step back, widening the distance between you.

"...That's just who you are, isn't it?" you asked, your voice barely a breath.

Rafe's face contorted as he stammered, searching for words. "Wh-...what did you expect me to do? He was gonna get us caught—"

"Then why not just throw him over? Or threaten him?" you countered, your voice sharp with accusation. "You're so…prone to violence, you like it. You don't have to be provoked o-or pushed," you explained, your thoughts tumbling out in a rush. "...It's just you."

"WORKIN' WITH ME AIN'T SO BAD, HUH?" Rafe asked as you both shoved the tarp off your bodies after clearing the second security checkpoint, narrowly avoiding capture at the first. You remained silent, just counting down the seconds until you could get away from him. You were only playing along until a window of opportunity presented itself to escape both Singh and him. "Alright," he began, his voice cutting through the loud rumble of the truck's engine. "Listen, I'm headed out to my boat, okay?"

"I…I can give you a ride out, drop you somewhere safe," he offered, looking at your profile as you deliberately avoided his gaze. "One thing though," he continued, his tone shifting. "Look at me." He urged, his voice neither rough nor cold, so you reluctantly obliged, turning slowly. "I know your friends are on the island…and my sister," he started, nodding as he spoke. "I'm not helpin' them, alright?" he told you, his expression unwavering. "I can't trust them, okay? I'll give you a ride out, not them. Okay?"

You offered no discernible reaction to his words. "...And what makes you think you can trust me?" you asked, leaning away from him as you finally met his eyes, a hint of challenge in your voice.

Rafe licked his lips, considering his next words carefully. "I…I don't know, alright? But I'm just tryna do the right thing. I'm tryna make up for…for everything I did to you. Alright, so, you can come with me and accept the offer, or run around this island until those men eventually get you again," he told you with what sounded like genuine sincerity. "The choice is yours, sunshine."

You clenched your jaw at the unwanted nickname. "Don't call me that. Ever," you bit out, shifting further into the corner of the truck, crossing your arms and looking away. "And fine. I just wanna get off the island…" you mumbled, staring out at the passing road.

"That's smart," Rafe smirked, even though you weren't looking at him. "You know, I never thought of you as Pogue. Not really, anyway." He almost sounded satisfied, even pleased.

You just scoffed under your breath, shaking your head as you finally returned your gaze to him, a hint of disbelief in your eyes. "Really?" you reiterated. "What did you think of me as?"

He looked at you with a contented, almost lazy look in his eyes, seemingly oblivious to the brewing fury in your own. "I always liked you, y'know that. Even before…" He trailed off, shrugging one shoulder as if to say the rest was obvious. "You're at least half Kook," he added with a small laugh. You simply stared at him, your expression unreadable.

The remainder of the ride passed in silence. Rafe sat there, a smug smile playing on his lips, its meaning lost on you. You remained quiet, your desire to be away from him growing with each passing second as you desperately tried to formulate a plan that wouldn't involve sticking with him any longer than necessary.

Moments later, the truck slowed to a stop. Rafe stood, half-crouched, and gestured for you to follow him off the truck, his eyes scanning the surroundings until they landed on the docks in the distance. "C'mon, my boat's over here," he said, waving for you to follow. "Make sure your shoes are off," he attempted a weak joke, knowing you were both painfully barefoot as he climbed aboard the small vessel.

"Alright," he began, untying the anchor rope. "We should have enough juice to get us to Saint Lucia, no problem." He tossed the rope onto the dock and moved up the small steps to get behind the wheel. "Hey, get in the boat," he urged when he noticed you still standing on the wooden planks of the dock, a conflicted look on your face.

"...You're not gonna pull anything?" you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

He scoffed with a lazy smile, glancing away from you for a brief moment. "What're you scared?"

You shook your head, shrugging nonchalantly. "No," you said with a slight pout. "But I know you."

Rafe just looked down at you, his expression hardening slightly. "No, I'm not gonna pull anything, okay? I told you, I'm trying to do things right here. I'm trying to do you a solid." You offered no verbal response, just a searching look. "You really wanna be back there with Singh right now or walking the streets barefoot tryna dodge his men, or you wanna be somewhere safe? Huh?" You just huffed in defeat, looking away. Rafe took that as his answer. "Great. Can you please help me with the bowline?" He extended a hand towards the front of the boat.

You eyed him warily as you climbed aboard, heading towards the bowline to untie the anchor. Rafe was delusional if he thought you were abandoning your friends or going anywhere alone with him.

"Uh, hey, I can't get it!" you called from where you were crouched in front of the stubborn knot. "I need some help!"

"Goddamn, do I have to do everything?" Rafe mumbled to himself, coming down from behind the wheel and approaching you. "Move," he said rudely, squeezing past you. He slung one leg over the metal railing, reaching down to untie the knot that tethered the boat to the dock.

You watched intently as he worked on the knot, your eyes darting around and your fingers fidgeting with anticipation. The moment he finally untied it, you didn't hesitate. You sprang forward, shoving the unsuspecting boy off the boat and into the water with a surprised yell. You stood there for a brief moment, watching as he sputtered to the surface, before bolting towards the steering wheel.

Rafe gasped for breath, blinking water from his eyes as he watched you start the boat, treading water furiously. "Y/N!" You ignored his infuriated shout, listening to the engine roar to life as you gripped the wheel, your gaze fixed on the open water ahead. "Hey, where you goin'?!"

"I'm not leaving without my friends!" you shouted back over the growing engine noise, steering the boat away from the dock.

"You don't know what you're doin'!" Rafe roared, his voice fading as the boat pulled away, leaving him alone in the water. A small, triumphant smile touched your lips. "I'll find you! Alright?! You know I will! You're gonna regret this shit!" he continued to yell, and you glanced back to see him flailing in the water, surrounded by nothing but the vast expanse of the ocean and his own impotent rage. "Y/N! You're done!"

You almost laughed aloud at the sight.

As the boat sped away from the docks, you pulled the stolen phone from your pocket, unlocking it to contact the one person you missed the most.

THE SOUND OF A PHONE CHIMING WENT OFF INSIDE THE BARN, waking JJ from his brief slumber. Your friends were camped out in a small barnyard that Cleo had found, laying low as Singh’s men scoured the island for them. Pulling Portis’ stolen phone from his pocket, a single message notification had him sitting up straighter.

Fenton [Pinned Location] Meet @ pin 6:15 P4L

“Hey, guys…” JJ scrambled to wake everyone, shaking each of their bodies roughly. "Wake up, wake up."

"What?..." John B groaned, stirring.

"I got somethin'," JJ alerted, opening the message fully and reading it aloud to them. "Meet me at the pin at six fifteen. P4L."

John B’s face twisted as he sat up straighter, taking the phone from JJ’s hands.

"...And we're supposed to believe that's Y/N?" Kiara questioned, an air of skepticism in her voice that mirrored everyone else's expressions.

"I don't know…" Cleo trailed off, shaking her head doubtfully.

"This could all be a trap," Pope suggested, his brow furrowed with concern. "It's exactly how he set us up last time."

JJ looked at the ground, considering his friend’s words. "He knows we got the phone, he knows he can't track it, so—"

"We go out there and bam, he's got us," Sarah added, her voice tense.

"Sometimes you guys can be so stupid," Cleo sighed, drawing all heads to her.

"I'm sorry?" Pope quipped, tilting his head in confusion.

"You get beat so bad, you flinch even when someone's tryin' to help," Cleo explained, tapping the phone screen in JJ’s hands. "P. Four. L." She emphasized each letter and number. "It's your girl, man!" She tapped the side of the blonde’s head, smiling knowingly. "No way she sent t'at as bait. They'd have to kill her."

"But what if she doesn't have the phone?" Kiara countered, her voice laced with worry. "What if they're like…torturing her or something—"

"Kie," Pope cringed, giving her a pointed look.

"I'm just being real!" she defended. "We gotta make sure it's really her before we get caught and lose all hope of actually finding her," she explained to the group, her tone earnest.

"How're we supposed to do t'at?" Cleo asked, her arms crossed.

"I don't know," Kie admitted, shaking her head. "JJ?" she piped up. "You have the phone, and you probably know her better than any of us. Ask her something."

"I'll just ask for a picture," JJ shrugged, looking around as if the answer were obvious. "Problem solved."

JJ  I need to know that this is you. Send a pic.

Fenton  Tried. Bad Service. It won’t send.

"...She's saying she can't send a picture," JJ's brows furrowed, his face falling slightly at the possibility that this might indeed be a trap.

"See?" John B exclaimed, his tone grim. "And if we would've went, we'd be dead."

"Nah," Cleo began, pacing back and forth. "The island doesn't have good service unless you're at the center. It could still be her," she pondered, trying to think of a way to be sure. "Ask her something personal," she told JJ.

"What? Like her middle name or somethin'?" he tried to clarify, earning an exhausted sigh from Cleo.

"No, idiot," Cleo reprimanded gently. "Somethin' only you and her would know the answer to. Or somethin' you know for a fact they could never pry out of her." JJ nodded, his mind racing to come up with a text that would confirm her identity beyond a shadow of a doubt.

JJ  Alright then, Princess. Tell me what you said to me in the hot tub that night. Word for word.

"What'd you say?" John B asked, JJ tilting the phone so they could all see.

"Okay, that's good," Pope smiled, a wave of relief washing over his face. "She wouldn't tell just anyone that. Even I know that, and if it's really her, she'll know it's you." He nudged JJ’s shoulder reassuringly. "You're the only one who calls her that."

"She's typing," JJ focused, all of your friends hovering over him, their eyes locked on the screen as they awaited your reply.

Fenton  I told you that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you ever again. I promised you, actually.

Fenton  I had a feeling it was you. Hi, blondie.

Fenton  Are you done interrogating me? Because I miss you and it’s getting lonely out here

JJ just smiled to himself as he read your responses, a warmth spreading through his chest. My girl, he thought. "It's her," he looked up at the group, meeting each of their hopeful eyes. "It's her, and we gotta go." He leaped up from his seated position, making for the barn exit. "Let's go!"

The group rushed to follow behind your boyfriend, struggling to keep pace with his quick steps. While his eyes remained glued to the phone, following the directions to the pin you'd dropped, the others trailed him, their heads constantly swiveling, alert to any danger.

After what felt like an eternity of following JJ's lead, navigating countless turns and enduring odd stares, they finally reached the pin. It was a boat dock. Crouching behind a stack of weathered barrels, their eyes scanned each boat and every person passing by.

"Guys," Kiara began, her voice hushed. "Singh's men could be hiding anywhere."

"No shit…" JJ replied absently, his gaze suddenly fixed on a woman in the distance who vaguely resembled you. "Guys. That her?"

They all squinted, trying to discern who he was looking at when Cleo piped up, clicking her tongue impatiently. "Gimme the phone," she demanded, holding out her hand. "Lemme handle this…" Looking at the device and zooming in further on the map, she was able to get a more accurate radius of where the pin was dropped, her eyes scanning the lineup of boats before landing on a specific one. "That boat," she specified, pointing with conviction. "That's the pin. The white one right there."

At Cleo’s words, they all strained to get a better look at the boat and its name, but their view was obstructed. JJ, however, seemed to disregard all caution, standing abruptly and cocking his gun before shoving it into the back of his pants.

"JJ—"

"Stay there," he told his friends, holding a hand out to halt them and ignoring their whispered protests as he walked away.

His steps were slow and measured, a nervous energy radiating off him as his eyes darted wildly, scanning his surroundings. He prayed this wasn't a trap. He prayed that it was you and that you were okay. He could hear the frantic rhythm of his own breathing as he drew closer and closer to the boat, his senses on high alert.

He stopped a few feet from the vessel, hesitant to get too close in case this was an elaborate scheme. Freezing in his tracks, he spun around, his eyes desperately searching for any sign of you.

Nothing.

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he turned away from the boat, his hope beginning to dwindle.

"...JJ?" The sound of your voice was like a shock of ice water, jolting him to his core. His body tensed, his head snapping up as he turned around slowly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. "J," you mouthed from your position several feet away, but your hushed voice seemed to carry across the distance.

The breath he hadn't realized he was holding escaped his lungs, his body relaxing as his feet carried him forward, his gaze fixed on you as you nearly tripped over your own feet in your haste to reach him. His heart leaped out of his chest as you ran towards him, throwing yourself into his arms, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso.

"Hi, baby," he whispered into your hair, his arms embracing you fiercely, his head resting on yours. "I'm here, I'm here…" You weren't sure what triggered the tears, but you found yourself crying into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as he did the same. "I'm so glad it's you," he mumbled into your hair, one of his hands pressing the back of your head into his chest as you sobbed softly.

"I'm sorry," you apologized tearfully, the words a jumbled mess of relief and lingering fear.

"Don't apologize to me," he shook his head, pulling you back slightly to look you in the eyes, his own filled with emotion. "You didn't do anything, okay?" he reassured you, gently brushing your hair behind your ear and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "You okay? You're not hurt, right? They didn't—"

"I'm okay," you nodded, a grateful smile breaking through your tears. "I'm not hurt. I'm alright."

"Okay, okay...." He nodded, his eyes scanning you from head to toe before he gently cradled your cheeks in both of his hands, bringing your forehead to rest against his. "I won't let anything happen to you ever again. I promise you that," he repeated your own vow back to you, and a watery chuckle escaped your lips as you leaned further into his embrace.

"You're so sappy," you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. "...I love you," you told him, placing one of your hands over his.

"Oh, baby, I love you so much more," he told you, pulling you close again as the sound of your friends' relieved laughter and their rapid footsteps reached your ears. You and JJ pulled apart just as they reached you, Kiara, Sarah, and Cleo engulfing you in a tight, group hug.

"Oh my God."

"Don't scare us like that."

They mumbled into the embrace, the guys soon piling on top, a chaotic expression of their relief.

"We thought you were dead," John B muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

"Is this you?" Pope asked, his eyes wide with astonishment as he looked at the sizable boat.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," you rolled your eyes, wiping the last of your tears as you all pulled away from the hug.

"Holy shit…" Pope mumbled, following as you led them all towards the boat, JJ throwing a protective arm over your shoulders. You smiled at the sight of your reunited friends, glancing back to find John B, lingering slightly behind, staring out at the seemingly empty water as a distant bell tolled.

"John B!" you called over your shoulder, the sound reaching him. "C'mon," you urged, nodding towards the boat. He offered you a small smile before joining the group, casting one last, lingering look into the distance.

"So, I have a couple of questions," JJ piped up, inspecting the impressive boat with a newfound appreciation.

"Go ahead," you smiled at him, the joy of being reunited still bubbling within you.

"A Lagoon 620 with twin 150 Volvos," he recognized, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "You understand we can go anywhere with this thing, right?" He squinted up at you, the sun glinting in his blonde hair as he untied the boat from the dock.

"I know, right?" you wiggled your eyebrows playfully, eliciting a laugh from JJ as the rest of your friends continued their excited chatter, already exploring different parts of the boat.

"Way to be discreet," JJ joked, tossing the rope onto the deck. "What did they want anyway?"

Your smile faltered slightly at his question, a look of confusion that had been nagging at you since you learned the reason for your abduction resurfacing. "Denmark's Diary."

JJ's face twisted in bewilderment as he walked over and stopped in front of you, where you were now sitting on the edge of the boat, your legs swinging freely while he stood on the deck. "Why?"

You simply shrugged, watching as your boyfriend rounded the boat and joined you. "Dunno. Said it leads to a treasure that's a lot bigger than The Merchant."

"A bigger treasure than four-hundred mil?" JJ questioned, his eyes wide with disbelief as he boarded the boat, turning his whole body to face you. You shrugged again, offering him a nervous smile. "Then sign me up," he concluded, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“GUYS…” Kiara spoke, breaking the heavy silence that had hung over you all for nearly an hour. You’d been sitting around, a fragile sense of contentment settling in, as you waited for John B’s return. Apparently, he’d gone in search of his dad, a statement that appauled you all before Sarah explained that he'd been hearing the toll of a bell and couldn't leave the island without being absolutely sure. The sun was beginning its descent. And then— "Incoming." Kiara stood abruptly, urgency lacing her voice. "Over there."

She pointed towards the bridge overpass, not too far from the dock, where at least twice a dozen figures on ATVs and dirt bikes, clad in armed vests, were rapidly approaching. "That's Singh's men," Cleo confirmed grimly, standing straighter, her eyes narrowed.

"Where's John B?" You turned to Sarah, whose face mirrored your own rising panic.

"I don't know, he said he'd be back by now," she stressed, her voice trembling as she clutched her hands to her head.

"Okay, well he's not," Pope pointed out the obvious, his gaze fixed on the approaching threat.

"What're we gonna do?" Kie asked, her eyes darting between each of you, seeking an answer.

"We gotta make a stand," JJ declared, his hand instinctively going to the gun tucked into his waistband, pulling it out and cocking it with a decisive click. "...'s our only option."

"J- What?" you spat, appalled by his suggestion. "JJ, no."

"Hey, we're not splittin' up again," he argued, taking a step closer to you but keeping the gun lowered, his blue eyes holding a resolute finality as he towered over you.

"We can't just leave him—"

"And we're not!" JJ countered, his frustration mounting. "You told me you saw him kill the dude who saved us, and you want us to wait and do nothing? That's not possible. They're gonna start shooting!"

"Then we run, J!"

"Run where?" He gestured to the surrounding area, where figures seemed to be emerging from every corner.

"This guy is dangerous," Kie began, her face flushed with fear. "We can't stay here!"

"We're not leaving John B," you reaffirmed, your voice firm, brooking no argument.

"They're gettin' closer!" Cleo called over the rising tension, watching the men rapidly descend upon the dock, guns already in their hands.

"Damnit!" Sarah cursed under her breath, all eyes turning to her as she made a beeline for the steering wheel of the boat.

"Sarah…" you trailed off, reaching for her, but Kie held you back, while Pope did the same with JJ. "We can't just leave!" you pleaded as Kiara and Pope effectively blocked you and JJ from reaching Sarah, who was already starting the boat's engine.

"We'll find John B later!" Kie assured you, her hands gripping your shoulders, her expression filled with a desperate kind of pity.

"Y'all are just leavin' him!" JJ fought against Pope's restraining grip, clearly distressed as Pope tried to calm him. You stopped struggling against Kie, a sense of bitter defeat washing over you as she pulled you into a side hug while the boat began to pull away from the dock. But JJ was relentless. "We can't just leave him like that!" he continued to shout, ignoring Pope's attempts to push him back.

You watched as the guards lined up along the edge of the dock, a fleeting hope that they'd realize it was too late flickering within you. But then, in a chillingly synchronized movement, they raised their weapons, and your eyes widened in horror. "Get down!" you yelled over the engine's roar, crouching low and dragging Kie down with you. Sarah and Cleo seemed to react instantly as the first gunshot cracked through the air, crouching down as the others followed suit.

But JJ was too consumed by his rage and fear to even register what was happening, and Pope was still desperately trying to subdue him. "JJ!" you roared just as Cleo called Pope's name in a similar panicked tone, both of you ordering the boys to "get down, now!" Finally, their dazed minds snapped back to reality, and they dropped to the deck, covering each other as shot after shot rang out, the sickening thud of bullets impacting the boat's exterior echoing around you.

This terrifying barrage continued for what felt like an eternity before abruptly ceasing. A tense silence descended. You all exchanged weary, shaken glances, Cleo being the first to slowly stand up, the rest of you cautiously following suit. Singh’s men had apparently ceased their fire and begun retreating as the boat sailed further away from the dock.

You all stood silently, watching the island shrink in the distance. JJ’s fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white as he slammed it against the side of the boat. A bitter curse escaped your lips as the crushing reality sank in – you had just left one of your best friends behind. No pogue left behind, you thought, the words now a cruel taunt.

This was the worst possible scenario for that unspoken creed to be broken.

"I'm sorry, John B," Sarah whispered, her tear-filled gaze fixed on the receding silhouette of the hill, the uncertainty of whether she would ever see the love of her life again, or if he was even still alive, a heavy weight in her heart.

next chapter>

JJ Maybank Taglist & SVN Taglist in replies!

[stars4gojo]

Sweet Nothing

Gojo x Fem!reader // Gojo and reader being Megumi’s parents lol  // fluff // 1k words

Itadori and Nobara already feel like Megumi hides too much so how will they react if they see him with a woman that seems way too old for the 16 year old.

(not proofread rn I’ll edit it later - ignore any silly mistakes)

Taylor swift sweet nothing🤍

Some of my other work - Masterlist

When Megumi told Nobara he was too busy to accompany her and itadori during her weekly shopping free - she did NOT expect to see Megumi laughing and buying coffee with a woman that was definitely way older. 

“Hey Kugisaki!” Itadori spoke suddenly as Nobara went ahead of him. 

“Is that fushiguro with a woman?” He questioned as his mouth fell agape.

“Huh? What are you talking about? You sure you’re not seeing things?” Nobara spoke as she dismissed him with the wave of her hand.

“No really I’m not lying!” He spoke again stopping in his tracks as Nobara made her way towards him to get him to shut up so she could continue shopping.

As Nobara turned towards the direction Itadori was still looking at in shock - she expected to see a guy that looks nothing like Megumi and was ready to snap at itadori for interrupting her, but she was in much more shock when she saw Megumi but worse with a woman who very obviously had a ring around her finger, a huge one at that.

“No way…” She spoke.

“That Fushiguro…She literally has a ring on her finger, I’m going to go teach him a lesson. Hold this!” Nobara added as she shoved her coffee into Itadori. 

“Hey hey hey! Don’t you want to do this more carefully I mean we don’t even know if they really are in some sort of relationship like that.” Itadori replied as he tried to hold Nobara back.

Nobara was about to reply but was cut off with the voice of someone awfully familiar.

“Hmm what are we looking at?” Itadori and Nobara jumped at the same time at the voice of their teacher, Gojo.

“Oh Goj-“ Itadori started but was soon cut off by Nobara.

“That Fushiguro is hanging out with some married woman and I’m about to beat his ass for breaking up a marriage.” Nobara spoke with her hands folded around her chest in confidence.

“What are you doing here anyways?” itadori asked clearly ignoring Nobara. 

“Well I’m about to meet my wife.” Gojo replied with a slight chuckle as he watched his two student’s mouths fall.

Nobara and Itadori turned towards Megumi and his mystery woman and to Gojo again and then the realisation hit.

“Oh.” Nobara and Itadori said at the same time.

“Huhhhh!!?!?” Nobara started

“Since when are you married?!??” Itadori added while looking like his whole life was a lie.

“You don’t even wear a ring???” Nobara questioned.

“Well if I wear such an expensive ring while fighting I would very obviously lose it and it’s too precious for that.” Gojo spoke proudly - putting emphasis on the words expensive and precious. 

“Seems like Megumi already met up with her, you guys wanna go and meet her?” 

“Yeah!” Nobara and itadori shouted excitedly as they made their way towards you and Megumi.  

You were quite surprised when you saw two children Megumi’s age run towards you both but everything made sense as you saw your husband trailing behind them, hands in his pocket and his usual blindfold replaced with his glasses.

You smiled as he waved at you but you couldn’t ignore the frown that was becoming more apparent on Megumi’s face.

“Those your friends Megumi?” You asked as you suppressed a giggle at his annoyance. 

“They’re NOT my friends.” He replied fast as he grabbed your arm so you both could go the other direction and you swear you saw his eyebrow twitch. 

“Hey Fushiguro!” Itadori spoke excitedly as he wrapped his arms around Megumi as he swatted them away. 

“And hey to you too!” Itadori spoke looking at you, unaffected by Megumi’s actions. 

“My name is Nobara Kugisaki and this is Itadori Yuuji!” Nobara spoke this time as an attempt to stop itadori from embarrassing her more. 

“Ahh hi! So you’re Megumi’s friends, I’m y/n and I’m Sato- well, your teachers wife.” You spoke as you shyly waved at them.

“We can just ignore them.” Megumi spoke nonchalantly as he turned on his heels once again trying to go the other and you frowned at his actions.

“Megumi you embarrassed of us or something” it was Gojo who spoke this time and Megumi felt as if all of his peace was now really destroyed.

“Hi there.” Gojo said softly as he went to kiss your head, “seems like you didn’t tell Megumi I was gonna be joining you two today.” Gojo added.

You turned towards Megumi with wide eyes as you rubbed the back of your neck, “did I really not tell you” you questioned awkwardly.

“No, you did not.” Megumi spoke as his last bit of patience ran out. 

“So Gojo you can just leave and you two can leave too.” Megumi added as he pointed to the others with his finger.  

“What! That’s literally my wife you cannot control me!” Gojo replied childishly as he leaned down to Megumi. 

“Oh cmon Fushiguro! It’ll be fun!” Itadori added only to get a smack on the head in return by Megumi.

“No one is inviting you in the first place anyways.” Megumi spoke with a frown.

And as you watched the entire scene unfold infront of you, Nobara made her way towards you.

“You sure you’re not being held hostage by those two?” She asked with genuine curiosity.

“Oh cmon” you said as you laughed. 

“I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” You added as light giggles escaped your mouth. 

“Nobara was it? Leave those two to solve it on their let’s go to that cafe over there.” You said while interlocking your arms with her walking towards the cafe. 

“Satoru’s treat of course!” You added with a wink. 

The two boys and your man child of a husband immediately stopped their little fight as they watched you two walk away.

“How are they friends already…?” Megumi questioned in surprise.

“Hey kugisaki don’t leave without your bags!!” Itadori called out as he started running towards her.

“Dont go ahead without me.” Megumi shouted out as he chased after Itadori.

Gojo slightly chuckled to himself as he put his hands back in his pockets slowly making his way towards the cafe as well. 

[moldychefboyardeecan]

1- Bicker and Banter, Bisexuals

a/n: lol bisexual tension

wc: 1.19k

tags: @mewnewew, @hannahbarberra162

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You are so fucking sick of Zoro and Sanji. Every damn moment they’re together—they're always. fucking. fighting.

Thing is–they just look like they're fighting. Anyone unlucky enough to share a room with them knows it’s not fighting—they would tell you they’re just flirting with a damn concussion risk.

One huffs, One growls- a damn mating ritual. At this point, something is bound to break, usually your patience– or a whiskey glass Zoro loses every so often.

“Here they fucking go again–” your last thoughts before coming back to reality to a very pissed off blonde, and his green-haired... counterpart.

“Mon dieu,” Sanji mutters, almost breathless with disdain. “You don’t slice onions, you butcher them. You absolute troglodyte.”

Zoro doesn’t even look up. “I did what you said. Julienne. Not my fault your directions suck.”

Sanji laughs, low and sharp. “Ça? That’s not a julienne, that’s a hate crime against vegetables.”

He stalks forward, stabbing his knife into the cutting board—pointing to the alleged vegetable massacre.. Zoro lifts his head to meet him, cocky and unbothered, like he’s been waiting for this. Of course he has.

Motherfuckers.

You cross your arms and lean against the counter with a sigh. You’re not stepping in. Not yet. Let them play chicken with their sexual repression first.

You don’t even flinch anymore. At this point, you’re just waiting on how many straws are left until they start kissing or throwing punches—or both. “Every time. I swear, every time I turn my back for ten minutes, they’re either trying to kill each other or eye-fuck through the rage.”

But, this is where it gets interesting, always does. 

Zoro’s voice drops when he’s smug.…Sanji’s hands start talking when his mouth can’t keep up. Zoro’s shoulders roll like he’s ready—for a fight, or something else entirely. The blonde’s accent thickens when he’s pissed. The kitchen suddenly becomes a wrestling match, a very homoerotic one–one that no one is brave enough to bet on. 

Though, being forced to referee between the two has never been part of your job description as the gunsmith of the Strawhat Pirates. Worst part?

You’re dating both of them.

Separately.

Secretly.

Individually.

And somehow—somehow—neither of these beautiful bisexual disasters realize they share a girlfriend; so damn wrapped up in their own sexual tensions to notice. Not that you care, anyway. You like having the two of them. Which is really unfair, because now it’s your job to referee these muscled idiots- not even idiots, fools. Beautiful, muscled, stubborn, bisexual fools.

You should be pissed. You really should. But it’s too hot to be mad.

“Boys-” You were abruptly cut off.

“T’es qu’un abruti insipide, un vrai bouffon sans palais!” “…Dunno what the hell you just said, but I know it was shitty.”

“Good. Let your one brain cell marinate on it.”

Pressing your middle and thumb against your temples, slowly massaging and circling them. Deep breaths, try again.

“Sanji, Zo-”

“--Espèce d’abruti fini, t’as le goût d’une soupe froide oubliée sur le feu. Cold soup, marimo! Cold..SOUP.” Sanji clapped his hands for emphasis on those last words.

“You wanna bet? Last time I checked, I’m the only one here who actually fights, not just flirts with disaster over some dumb skirts.

“Bring it, mossbrain. I’ll dance around your vulgar swings while still looking like a goddamn princ–”

“BOYS!”

Your voice cracks through the room like a goddamn cannon.

“Oh my fucking.. GOD. enough. I am sick of this shiiiiit ohmyfuckinggod–” A lot of swears in the room .”Just- shuthefuck up.”

Your seething annoyance must’ve been picked up by them because, suddenly, they stopped, and realized you were there. (it wasn’t. you were just so pissed you didn’t realize you yelled.)

Just like clockwork, both of them rambled and apologized to you, at the same time. 

“Merde, my love, I didn’t mean to—”

“Oi. You okay?”

Both approached you, one of their hands on one of your arms, Sanji on your left, rubbing your arm back and forth- Zoro on your right, simply there, grounding you with his touch. The intimate moment would’ve been better, if they were aware you were dating both of them.

But then, they both reach up to cradle your face–and that’s when they see each other.

Your head blocks their view,until they lean in just enough to lock eyes over your shoulder.

“Oi.” “What now, marimo? Can’t you see she's upse-” “That's my girlfriend, perv. back the fuck off.”

Fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuc-

“That’s rich marimo, there’s no possibility that my darling, gorgeous, precious Y/-”

Great. Who ever thought this would happen? “Stop, both of you.”

Their gazes of fucking murder pause and stare back at you.

“Yeah, you fucks. I dated both of you. At the same damn time.”

You jab a finger at Sanji. “You.”

Then Zoro. “And you.”

You exhale, seething.

“The whole goddamn time, you two were too busy measuring dicks with your eyeballs to notice.”

Both open their mouths to interject. 

You raise your hand, and surprisingly, that's all it took to shut them up. “Dont. fucking. say. a word.” 

Sanji tried opening his mouth, but at the moment you heard a single damn gasp from his mouth- “attututut. Shut it. no ‘I thoughts’ or a fucking ‘im sorry’,  or whatever territorial, testosterone infused excuse from either of you..”

Then–

It hit you. 

Grabbing both their arms, you drag them out of the kitchen.

“Mon Amo-”

“Oi!”

You’re fucking done. Don’t even look back.

“You guys wanna act like fucking animals? Go for it.”

Holy fuck you didnt even think you were strong enough for a crate of apples. How the fuck are you dragging two 5’10 men accross the Sunny? ‘Dunno. Ask Chopper later.

“Chérie, do we really have to-”

“-the hell are you doing?! I can walk-”

Fucking protesting the whole way there, you could see the steam run from both their ears.

“This is abuse-!”

“OH CAN IT!”

You make it to the chamber hallways, and point at the closet all the way at the end. Luckily, you remembered it was empty, since that was a place you used to hide away to suck either of their dic-

Letting them go, you watch as both rub their upper arms, and seeing your handprint. Definitely ask Chopper later.

“Closet. Now.”

Sanji blinks. “Pardon?”

“Both of you. In. The. Closet.”

Zoro crosses his arms. “The fuck for?”

“To work out whatever weird sexual grudge match you’ve been dragging around for months.” You’re already marching forward, throwing the door open like divine judgment. “You wanna fight? Fine. You wanna kiss? Also fine. But do one of them already, or I swear to god,I’ll make you guys do it myself.”

“...You wouldn’t,” Sanji says, but his voice cracks halfway.

You look him dead in the eye.

“Try me.”

Zoro grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking women and their goddamn closets.” You ignore him. Whatever.

You shove and watch them shuffle in. 

Moment of truth.

–CLICK.

Locked.

“OI–”

“MON DIEU.”

Leaning against the door, you hear them pushing and thudding to get comfortable.

“You’re not leaving until you two resolve that shit. Figure it out.”

[monstertreden]

ˎˊ˗ STARK REALITY ˎˊ˗

-Reader: GN reader (It can be either platonic or romantic) -TW: Angst to the core (I suppose it is somewhat bittersweet) -Character: Rodimus Prime (Transformers series) -Summary: Lately, the captain of the Lost Light had begun neglecting his own responsibilities, anchoring himself to his berth... -Word count : 1489 A/N: I'm dropping this before christmass hell yeahw 🔔 I started to work on this after me and my friend joked about Rodimus using Gen Z slang 💀💀

“Rodimus- I swear to Primus-‘m thryng…mhh to…sleep, one more metal-crushing hug and I’ll throw you out of the ship...”

“Hey hey heyyy slow down there pretty, how could you ever blame me?? Damn, you don’t know how HARD is to keep my servos all to myself when I know you feel sooo nice snuggled in my arms like this” There he was, once again, sprawled in his room on his berth, venting softly in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He had his servo draped around his sparkmate’s waist, holding them close. That menace of a bot curled his lips into a playful pout, resting his chin lightly on their helm as he let out a theatrical sigh “You’re always a party pooper”.

In response, the other bot chuckled, shaking their helm at his antics “Me? Shouldn’t YOU be more responsible instead? I’m starting to think that all this Prime thing has gone over your helm...”

"NUH UH now-… alright, maybe just a little...What can I say? On one servo I must tend to my responsibilities as a Prime…" He grinned, his tone becoming lighter as he added with exaggerated flair "Buttt on the other hand… it’s poggers."

His sparkmate groaned audibly, immediately cringing at his elegant choice of words. Yet, they couldn’t expect much else from him—though they still, somehow, managed to have some faith in this lovable fool. “Never. Never say that again.” Exasperated, they buried their faceplate deeper into his plating, slapping his chassis. "I don’t want to hear any more slang you’ve picked up from those fleshies on Earth" they grumbled. “It’s horrible”

A laugh vibrated through his frame, as he squeezed them closer. "Aww, c’mon! It’s totally poggers! You love it," he said, his grin widening. Despite the banter, the comfort between them was unmistakable, their connection stronger than any playful jabs or groggy protests.

"Ughhh, now I completely understand Ultra Magnus," they groaned, their voice dripping with dramatic exasperation as they shifted slightly in his arms.

That remark struck Rodimus right in his spark. With a mock gasp of offense, he clutched at his chassis dramatically, as though they’d just delivered a fatal blow. "Comparing yourself to that old cranky bot?? No way at all!! No way I’m letting you transform into a copy of him!" he retorted, his voice rising in playful indignation as he held her closer, his optics still closed with a cheeky grin spreading across his lips, his tone dropping into teasing. "You’re way cuter, pff" Sticking out his glossa he squeezed them for emphasis like a kid would do with their comfort plushie. "And, most importantly” he continued with a mock-serious tone “you don’t have a stick up your aft like he does, I mean, I can still come to you when I ‘forget’ to report a report."

"You certainly are a pain in the aft," they muttered, though their tone carried no real annoyance.

Pleased with himself, he nuzzled against them like an overgrown turbo-puppy. "Yeah, but you love me anyway, ah" His voice brimming with that unshakable, shameless confidence he always brought with him, a complete package.

Surrendering to Rodimus's behavior, they gently caressed the sides of his faceplate, making him melt in their servos. All pretense of bravado slipped away as his guard came completely down. He curled against them like a small kitten seeking warmth, his frame humming softly in contentment. He was a sucker for cuddles and they both knew it, always seeking comfort in the other's presence, content just by being close to them, helm on top of where their spark resided. “You look silly sleep talking with me with your optics closed shut”.

“’Cause you’re reallyy pretty y’know? Your prettiness can easily blind me, babygirl” What a buffoon he was, but a lovable one, through and through. For them, he would act even stupider, just to hear them laugh, it always sent warm waves to his spark, a steady reminder of why he cherished those moments dearly.

“Rodimus. Prime.” They began, laughing “Let me go!!, I swear I’ll suffocate at this rate in your grasp”

"Nooooo... “ He whined dramatically, like a sparkling throwing a tantrum, yet his loopy grin remained unaltered ” I don't want to let go. I want you close to me."

“I know that you dumb idiot, but you've been in your room for cycles!” Their voice took a softer tone “They need you too, y’know, more than me right now.”

He froze at their words, his systems reacting instantly. His grip tightened instinctively, reluctant to part from their embrace. An unnerving silence settled over them for a moment before his sparkmate murmured, "I’m sorry." They interlocked their digits with his, a gesture that made Rodimus shudder slightly as his shoulders hunched, savoring the warmth of their touch.

" You don’t have to apologize. It's not your fault. I just... I just miss you. I yearn for your touch, warmth, and presence every day” His voice filled with a mix of grief, affection, and longing. “Would you stay for another minute...please?"

He felt their servo come to rest gently over his spark, the warmth of their touch cutting through the storm in his processor. Their voice, soft and soothing, broke through his thoughts. "We both know it’s not healthy" they said, concern threading through their tone.

"I know, doll. I know. But sometimes... Sometimes I just wish I could forget all of that and just hold onto this moment forever."

He let out a sigh, knowing deep down that they were right. He knew he couldn't cope with all of this by isolating himself and reliving memories forever. But letting go was easier said than done, it was too much to bear. How long had he been isolating himself from everything and everyone? Cycles, surely, but it felt like an eternity. The silence of the room, once their sanctuary, now felt suffocating.  Deep down he wanted to break free from this opulent room, but he was holding back, his spark too heavy to simply get up and go on with his day.

"…. but it's just so difficult to move on when I still miss you so much. Every time I look at a room we used to share, it feels like a part of me in my spark dies inside."

There was a moment of steady silence, that made Rodimus feel insecure as he held his breath, as if they were not there until they spoke again.

“I know you keep my chair tidy, but..why don't you just store it away?”

His optics flickered at their words, a faint glimmer betraying the emotions he tried to keep hidden. His grip on their forearms tightened, trembling slightly as if bracing himself against a tide, he stammered, a sour smile on his faceplate.

"I-I  keep your chair tidy because it reminds me of you... of our time together. It's the last thing I have that was truly yours,and.. and throwing it away, moving it out of my sight... it would be like throwing away a part of you."

The confession tumbled out all at once, his tone cracking as he finally admitted the truth aloud. Rodimus paused to recollect himself. His vents hitched, and for a moment, the silence was deafening.

"I know it's foolish, everyone said that..I didn’t mean to lash out at them- but I can't bring myself to discard it-It’s- it’s not just a chair- It's like a silent promise that you'll come back one day.."

He confessed, his voice expressing both grief and frustration. That day, someone had dared to comment on the empty chair, an offhand remark that ignited something volatile within him. He hadn’t taken it well, his usual lightheartedness replaced by an uncharacteristic intensity that even he didn’t fully understand. The chaos in his mind was interrupted by an almost forgotten sensation, their servo, warm and steady, gently guiding his own to rest over their spark... A fresh wave of emotions crashed over him. He knew they were right, that he couldn't stay in this state forever. But the thought of letting go, of moving on, felt like a physical ache in his circuitry. “I’ll always be there, somehow-“

Tears started to prickle his optics* "I..I can’t, I really can’t"

“Listen to me..” They gently turned his faceplate towards hers, servos cradling his faceplate with utter care “You can do it, for me, for you..for us.”

“You still have lots to do, captain.” They soon added, he could feel them cracking a smile at him. “My captain”

Oh, how he wanted to look at their smile once again, yet he kept his optics shut, his spark aching. He knew they were right, that he had his duties as captain to attend to, a crew that needed him to be more than this hollow husk of himself. But moving forward felt impossible, But for them? He’d do anything, he’d tear the Matrix from his chest, give every piece of himself if it meant keeping his promise to them alive. He would try, he’ll try for them, to move on and carry on his duties as captain, even though letting go felt like ripping out a piece of his spark…

Minutes passed and when he felt nothing more against his faceplate that’s when he opened his tired optics, confronted with the stark reality that they were no longer there, his room was empty and cold. The weight of everything crashed down on him and his spark ached with a deep consuming sorrow. He couldn’t stay there anymore, rotting on the berth.

“For you, for me… for us…”

He repeated this as a mantra, slowly getting up from their once-shared berth, fuelled by the love he felt for them and the desire to make them proud. As he got up, his helm felt heavy, he stood there for a moment, brushing his digits against the edge of the berth. Opening the door of his room, he stepped a pede out, the dim lights of the corridors of the Lost Light welcomed him back.

“I promise, watch me.”

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

[prozacwhorehouse]

hey babe! me again. wanted to know if you could write a little blurb or whatever about zeke getting into a fight over the reader. like a guy has been trying to put the moves on her and he’s had enough. thanks a bunch and only do it if you want to 😘

this is for you ml!!

idiot (zeke tyler x reader)

warnings: sexual harassment, physical violence, mention of drugs, other than that just fluff

also like so not proofread sorryyy

you need a drink right now.

you can feel the bass of the music vibrating in your ears, shaking your skull. warm bodies are smushed together, splashes of various drinks splash on to the floor at random intervals. but you promised Delilah you’d come, so here you are.

zeke leads you through the crowds with a hand on the small of your back, stopping in the kitchen.

“if that asshole starts bothering you, just come find me, m’kay?” he raises his brows, waiting for your acknowledgement. that asshole would be Mike.

Mike didn’t seem to understand the different between yes and no. he’d been attempting to pursue you since before you and zeke got together. after you started dating, his harassment became more casual, but he got worse when zeke wasn’t around. when you told him, you genuinely thought he was going to kill Mike. he doesn’t understand why he can’t get it through his fucking head that she’s with him, and she doesn’t want him. she never wanted him. you make him promise not to do anything stupid.

“he won’t bother me,” you insist. “not with you here.” he’s not quite sure he believes that, but he bites his tongue and nods, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“wait,” you stop him, grabbing his arm. he leans down to your level, cocking his head to be able to hear you over the loud music. this makes you want to forget the promise you’d made to Delilah, pretend you were never there, say you were sick, go back to your house with zeke and fuck senseless.

“my house after?” you plead at him with doe eyes, hopeful grin on your face. he would never say no.

“of course,” he smiles, cupping your cheeks to kiss you before leaving to make sales. the day he gets caught is the day he owes you all his earnings - you bet on it.

-

“listen Mike, I’m sure some day you’ll find a lovely girl who loves harassment just as much as you do. But it won’t be me. I’m with zeke,” you put emphasis on his name, “I’m not interested.” you attempt to walk away, but his hands catch your waist. alcohol and all, his grip on your hips becomes firmer as he tries to steady himself, impaired motor coordination causing him to stumble.

“come on, babe. just one date,” he slurs, the alcohol in his system very apparent. disgust spreads across your face, and you’re positive you’re about to gag. “such a disgusting excuse for a man,” you spit, ripping his hands from your waist. zeke appears from the crowd, having seen mikes hands on you from across the room.

“Alright man, that’s enough. Back off,” he scoffs stepping between you two, his smirk almost a warning. he’s trying to mask his rage, remembering his promise to you not do anything a moron would do. your words, not his.

“Let’s just go,” you sigh, tugging on his bicep like a child tugs on their mother’s skirt.

“One second,” he shakes you off, returning his attention to Mike.

“No, zeke, lets go,” you say sternly, this time jerking his arm harsher.

“You’re having a good time, there’s no reason this jackass should ruin it for you,” he glares,

“I swear to god, zeke, I’m not doing this right now,” you seethe, the look in your eye saying stop. It.

he tenses his jaw before reluctantly agreeing.

“what? scared of someone fucking your bitch getting fucked like she deserves?” Mike opens his arm, challenging zeke.

“fuck it,” he mutters, quickly whipping around and landing a hard punch on mikes cheek, causing his body to spin in that direction and collapse onto the floor.

“oh jesus,” you groan in annoyance, throwing your arms up in the air. it’s funny - everyone is floored, but you’re just annoyed. you’d think it was a common occurrence for the both of you by your reaction.

“you’re an idiot,” you scold, platforms clomping on the street. zekes following close behind you, eyeing your frame that glows with each passing of an streetlamp.

“why? he was all over you, and-“

“I’m a big girl, zeke. i can handle myself,” you huff, rolling your eyes, continuing to make your way down the street to his car. he knows this. of course you can handle yourself, you’re the toughest girl he knows. he just can’t help but want to protect you.

“hey hey, stop,” he gently catches your wrist, spinning you around. “quit it. it’s my job- i know you, and i can see when you’re uncomfortable. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i just let that happen?” he quirks his eyebrow, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips.

you dramatically sigh, dropping your head and kicking the dirt under your shoe. “a pretty shitty one, i guess,” you bite your lip, corners turning into a smile, looking up to meet his gaze.

“there she is,” he huffs out a laugh, pulling you in by the waist. playfully you squirm, hands on his biceps attempting to free yourself, but you both know you aren’t going anywhere. “plus, you’re my girl. fuckin’ hate seeing guys do that to you,” he says hurriedly before kissing you, hoping to quickly move past his jealous statement. but you catch it of course, catching his lips with your finger and pressing them away from yours. “ding ding ding,” you tease, confirming your suspicion of his envy, “there it is. you’re jealous.”

“stop being jealous,” you whisper against his lips, grazing them slightly. “I’m all yours.” you close the small gap between you, sighing into the kiss. his lips are so soft, they always are, which is unfair because no matter how much chapstick or lipgloss you use, it doesn’t work on you like it does zeke, which he only “uses” when it’s rubbing off on his lips while kissing you.

“Wouldn’t you do the same if some girl tried to make moves on me?” He breaks the kiss to reason, raising his eyebrows.

“No, because people are scared of you, zeke,” you run your finger along his jawline, huffing out a laugh. “Plus, girls know I could ruin them socially. And that’s worse than a physical fight.” he laughs and nods, cause he knows you’re right. in another universe, your mouth could probably get you killed. but in this one, he loves the quick remarks of his kick ass girlfriend.

“you’re amazing, you know that?”

this is lowk shit im sos sorry

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Eight

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

I have a lil surprise for y’all! From me and… someone else ;3

“That was fucking cool ass!” Toxic's jubilant declaration reverberated through the vehicle as she thrust her fists triumphantly into the air.

“Where do you even get these word combinations?” Scourge groaned, his grimace displaying his annoyance at Toxic's strange attempts at swearing.

“She’s right-might-bite! That was fucking cool ass!” Flying's exuberant cheer filled the air, his own excitement matching Toxic's as he pumped his fist energetically.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” Fiona interjected, her tone a sobering reminder amidst the buzzing atmosphere, “no doubt there's a huge bounty on this car, and someone at a mod shop could report it, or hell, someone could report us on the way.”

“So we’re dumping it?” Lightning inquired, his features relaxing as he pulled off his mask.

“Yup,” Fiona affirmed, mirroring Lightning's actions as she too removed her mask, taking a moment to readjust her hair, “I expected as much, honestly.”

“That sucks,” Scourge lamented with a hint of disappointment, his eyes rolling as he took off his mask, savoring the sensation of freedom as the cool air brushed against his quills.

“Don’t forget, baby, we'll be back on our thrones in no time,” Fiona reminded her lover, a note of reassurance in her voice as she raised a finger in emphasis.

“Oh yeah,” Scourge conceded with a grin, his gaze shifting to Toxic, his next words laden with a hint of nostalgia, “you won’t believe what it’s like being on the throne, kid. Cars, food, money, anything you want at the snap of your fingers.”

“I get, um, a throne?” Toxic's hopeful inquiry hung in the air, her eyes wide with wonder at the prospect.

“Well…” Scourge began tentatively, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, “if you're my sister and I'm the king, then you're the princess. I guess you get a throne...”

“I wanna be the king,” Toxic asserted, crossing her arms.

“Tough,” Scourge retorted, a smirk playing on his lips as he retrieved a cigarette, the flame from his lighter casting a fleeting glow on his face as he took a drag.

"Alright guys," Fiona's voice cut through the chatter, her gaze shifting towards a hopping brightly-lit nightclub they passed by, "looks like that club's busy tonight. Lightning, Predator, go in there and grab..." Her brow furrowed as she hummed in thought, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes, "like, 3 car keys from some drunken jackasses. After that, we gather our belongings, ditch this vehicle, and each take a different route home. All clear?"

After receiving a collective “yes ma’am” in response, Lightning and Predator smoothly exited the now-parked vehicle and made their way into the vibrant nightclub. In the dimly lit chaos of the club, they deftly relieved various inebriated revelers of their car keys without raising a single eyebrow. They swiftly rejoined their team outside, the metallic jangle of the ill-gotten keys echoing through the alley in which the SUV was parked.

Activating the locator buttons, they discovered they had acquired two sedans and a jeep - not luxury vehicles by any means, but perfectly suited to their immediate requirements. With their newfound assets in hand, the team efficiently redistributed the contents and occupants of the SUV, preparing to load up the newly acquired vehicles for their next move.

“Fiona and Toxic are with me,” Scourge announced decisively, standing by the red sedan he had selected, his posture exuding confidence. “Predator and Lightning, take a car, and Flying and Simon will likely opt for the jeep.”

“Where else can ya fit a jolly brown giant, eh, Simon?” Flying quipped, nudging Simon playfully, the latter responding with a resigned eye roll as he stood with his arms crossed.

“I wanna go with Simon!” Toxic's protest carried over as she hurried to him, her enthusiasm evident.

“They only got a two-seater, short stack,” Fiona interjected, her arms crossed as she leaned against the car, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice.

“Well, I can always hang with fuzzy and birdie!” Flying chimed in, bounding over to join Lightning and Predator, the latter struggling to conceal his irritation as a subtle twitch of his brow betrayed his composure.

“Your call, man,” Scourge addressed Simon, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his words. “You want this thing?” His gaze flickered disdainfully towards his sister.

Simon expressed his indifference with a dismissive shrug, muttering, "I don't care," before he offered a steadying hand to Toxic, who was clambering up into the rugged jeep. "Buckle up," he instructed firmly, "And take off your mask. Everyone else has already taken theirs off."

"No fuckshitty way. It looks cool," she retorted, stubbornly adjusting the seat belt across her chest.

Simon, under his breath, murmured a gruff, "I don't have time for this." Without waiting for her compliance, he reached over and stripped away the balaclava from Toxic's head in one smooth gesture, despite her immediate objections. "We'll attract the wrong kind of attention with these on," he explained, his tone brooking no argument.

Meanwhile, Scourge stood a little distance away, surveying the group with a casual eye. "Alright, see you guys back there," he called out, his voice carrying an air of finality as he slid behind the wheel of his own vehicle.

With a collective purr of engines, the group dispersed, each taking their separate paths, winding their way back home through the less traveled roads.

During the drive, Toxic became a whirlwind of chatter beside him, excitedly recounting every moment of their recent heist. She embellished the tale with animated sound effects and poorly done impressions, eager to relive the wild journey.

Simon, slightly exasperated, responded with noncommittal hums of "Mhm," and, in a quest for some auditory respite, he reached out and turned on the radio. He hoped the music would serve as a gentle distraction and perhaps encourage Toxic to quiet down.

Undeterred, Toxic continued her enthusiastic reenactment, eventually pausing to ask, "What was your favorite part?" Her foot tapped along to the rhythm of a song now playing, her energy undimmed.

"Dunno," Simon replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he maintained his focus on driving through a dilapidated shopping district. The flickering neon signs were caked with layers of dirt, the road was a minefield of potholes, and the omnipresent litter added a final touch to the atmosphere of neglect.

Contrary to Simon, the disarray didn’t seem to deter Toxic. Her attention was captured by a small, rundown diner. "I wanna eat there," she announced abruptly, pointing with determination toward the diner's partially illuminated sign.

Simon cast a skeptical eye at the establishment, his nose scrunching in distaste. "There? With all the money we have?" he questioned, the incredulity evident in his voice.

Toxic's enthusiasm was undeterred. "Yeah!" she squealed, nodding vigorously as her stomach offered a timely rumble of agreement.

Feeling the gnaw of hunger himself, he conceded with a resigned exhale. "Ok," he acquiesced, guiding the jeep to a stop beside the diner, parking it behind a solitary motorcycle.

Toxic's eyes danced with new interest. "Can I drive that?" she inquired, gesturing toward the motorcycle with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Nope," Simon answered, his response immediate and unyielding as he stepped out of the jeep. He extended a hand to help Toxic down and escorted her toward the diner's entrance, the neon glow of its sign washing over them in flickers.

Shockingly, the desolate ambiance and lackluster staff of the grungy diner failed to entice anyone to linger late into the night — except for a solitary figure. Seated at the counter, a tall polar bear woman clutched a beer bottle in one hand, her attention fixed on a news report detailing a recent bank robbery and ensuing police chase that had unfolded in the city, leaving a trail of casualties in its wake.

In a moment of recognition, Toxic's gasp pierced the quiet of the diner as she pointed animatedly at the screen, her eyes widening in shock. Before she could cause further commotion, Simon swiftly swept her up into his arms, his voice a harsh whisper as he admonished, "no!"

The sudden disturbance drew the attention of the polar bear woman, prompting her to shift her gaze towards the pair. Locking eyes with Toxic, she offered a gentle smile in response to the child's unflinching stare, her attention drawn to the vivid cyan glow emanating from her cybernetic eye, framed by intricate silver steel and peeking out from beneath her tousled white hair.

Known for their straightforward nature, children often possess a unique candor. Toxic, however, excelled in this aspect. True to form, she exhibited her unfiltered curiosity by bluntly pointing at the woman's cybernetic eye and posing the question, "What the hell happened to your eye?"

“Toxic!” Simon hissed, catching the young girl off guard and prompting a sheepish pause in her inquiry.

Rather than taking offense, the woman responded with a light chuckle, shaking her head with a hint of amusement as she turned her body to face the duo.

"Ah, this eye?" she began, gesturing to the eye in question, "it fell out because I didn't eat enough veggies."

Toxic's reaction was immediate, her skepticism palpable as she scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "What a load of bullshit," she groaned, unimpressed by the explanation offered.

This caused Ursula to erupt in laughter, spitting her beer onto the floor as she doubled over, clutching her stomach in mirth. It took her a full minute to regain her composure, her laughter echoing through the dimly lit diner.

Amidst her amusement, Ursula managed to compose herself enough to address Toxic. "Oh," she chuckled, wiping away tears of laughter, "yer a spunky little gal. Toxic, right?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Toxic confirmed, "Yeah.”.

With a warm smile, the woman extended her large hand for a fist bump, which Toxic eagerly reciprocated. "I'm Ursula," she said, her laughter still evident in her voice.

Impressed by Ursula's style, Toxic surprisingly showed signs of politeness as she complimented her fashion sense in her own unique way. "I like your nails, Ursula. And your earrings. And your...” she paused, searching for the right term, “face earrings."

Ursula accepted the praise graciously, her amusement evident in her tone. "Why thank you," she replied, her smile unwavering, "I like them too. And I like yer hair."

Caught off guard by the unexpected interaction, Simon hesitated, feeling warmth creep up his cheeks as he met Ursula's gaze. "We're sorry to bother you, miss..." he began, his tone apologetic.

Ursula quickly dismissed his concerns, leaning casually against the counter and adjusting her black leather jacket. "Oh, not at all!" she reassured him, her demeanor friendly and relaxed. "She yers, mister...?"

"Sergeant Simian," he introduced himself, clearing his throat before adding, "and, erm, no. She's my boss' kid sister."

Ursula's response was warm and complimentary. "She's a sweet gal," she remarked, her words sincere.

"Well, you don't know her," he retorted, averting his eyes as a faint blush of embarrassment continued to color his cheeks.

“I’m hungry,” Toxic complained, tugging at Simon’s bandolier with impatience as her stomach continued to grumble and ache with the pangs of hunger.

“Well, uh…” the flustered gorilla spoke lowly before clearing his throat and raising his volume to be more audible, “good meeting you ma’am.” His words stumbled out in a mix of unease and courtesy, a subtle hint of nervousness seeping into his demeanor that he internally cursed himself for.

“I wanna sit with Ursula,” Toxic demanded, her tone once again insistent and unwavering.

“Jeez, you want a lot of things tonight…” Simon murmured through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“By all means,” Ursula said graciously, motioning them to the two seats next to her, her gesture accompanied by a warm smile.

Internally, he cursed himself for his weakness against this already ill-mannered child. He placed her in the barstool next to Ursula, adjusting it so she could reach the counter before sitting next to her and grabbing a menu from the exhausted waiter that stood behind the counter.

Despite his embarrassment, Simon oddly enough found himself looking for an excuse to talk to Ursula. His mind's race for words luckily came to fruition as he noticed the steak in front of her. A flicker of curiosity sparked in his eyes.

“That any good?” He asked, his gaze flicking between her and the menu. His inquiry carried a hint of genuine interest, a subtle attempt to engage in conversation.

Ursula rolled her eyes a little and cringed as she answered, “dry, weak seasoning…” before she picked up the steak in her hands and bit into it, tearing off a chunk of it before devouring the piece. Her unconventional approach to dining caught Simon off guard, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering across his features as he observed her. “But,” she began as she chewed before swallowing, “the beer makes you forget about that.”

“W-well… uh…” Simon stammered, blinking a few times as he processed the sight before him before looking at the zombie-like waiter, “I’ll, erm, have a patty melt and a black coffee.” His order came out in a hesitant manner, another sign of his slightly flustered state in the moment.

“Mhm,” they hummed, “and the kid?” The waiter asked monotonously.

“What do you wanna eat, Toxic?” Simon asked, leaning closer to Toxic who was scribbling on her kids menu with a used-up green crayon

Toxic hummed in thought as she stared at the menu before poking Simon’s shoulder and motioning him to lean in. Once he was close, she whispered matter-of-factly in his ear, “I can’t read.”

With a sigh, he let the waiter know it’d be a few minutes while he helped her decipher the menu, leading her to loudly declare that she wanted a grilled cheese sandwich with orange soda.

“Ah, take it easy on service workers,” Ursula advised, ruffling Toxic’s hair, “they go through enough. Especially in this world.”

“Fine…” Toxic acquiesced, lowering her head. “Can I have, um, a grilled cheese sandwich and then I wanna drink orange soda.” Her compliance was accompanied by a hint of hesitation as her eyes shifted to Ursula who held an approving thumbs up to her.

Simon reeled his head back in surprise. This was by far the most ill-mannered child he’d ever come across, and this woman they’d just met somehow had the charm and charisma to prompt her to behave acceptably. He’d be lying — which he would — if he said he didn’t understand the appeal Toxic saw in her. Simon found himself grappling with a mix of astonishment and intrigue, recognizing the subtle influence Ursula wielded over Toxic and those around her.

She was definitely… interesting.

The food didn’t take too long to get there. The dishes served were as good as one would expect from a diner of this quality. The bread on Simon’s patty melt had a hint of staleness, and the patty was quite dry, but overall, it was still edible. On the other hand, Toxic, who had spent her life in an orphanage that eventually closed down, possessed a less refined palate than Simon and eagerly devoured the slightly burnt grilled cheese sandwich.

All of a sudden, Toxic let out a whimper as she put down her half-eaten sandwich and covered the reddened cut on her lips with her hand.

“The sandwich hurt my mouth…” she whined, her speech muffled by her hand, revealing a moment of discomfort.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t pick at the cut,” Simon chastised with a roll of his eyes.

“Aww,” Ursula said with concern as she gently moved Toxic’s hand and examined the cut, “that looks bad, lil girl. What happened?” Her expression softened with empathy.

“I fell off the slide,” she explained, her tone mirroring Ursula’s as she clearly soaked up the loving attention.

Inhaling sharply through her teeth, Ursula winced and asked, “ooh, did ya see a doctor?” Her concern for Toxic's welfare being evident with a gentle ruffle of the child’s hair.

“Sort of. We know a medic and she’s taking antibiotics,” Simon replied, soothing Ursula’s worries while taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, if ya need any help with that, my friend Clarisse is a doctor,” Ursula offered, pulling a napkin from the holder in front of them and retrieving a pen from inside her jacket. She jotted down Clarisse’s phone number on the napkin before sliding it across the counter to Simon, extending a gesture of support.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Simon replied with a nod of gratitude.

“Anytime, soldier,” she lightly teased, saluting him with a wink, adding a touch of humor to the exchange.

The second he registered her wink, as if by reflex, he abruptly looked away, shifting his gaze to Toxic as her eyes darted between them while she absentmindedly picked at her lip.

“Knock it off,” Simon sternly reprimanded, nudging her hand away from her face.

“Ugh!” Toxic groaned in response before diverting her attention back to her sandwich, her frustration evident in her actions as she displayed an exaggerated frown and took a big bite into her meal.

As Ursula held what was left of her steak in one hand, her phone rang. With her speech slightly garbled from chewing, she answered the call. “Yah?” Her chewing gradually slowed, and the composed expression on her face began to falter as she listened intently to the caller, “thlow ‘own. Woss ‘appenin?” With a hint of concern creeping into her voice, Ursula set down her steak and swallowed the bite, muttering a curse under her breath. With a sense of determination, she declared, “ok. I’ll be there in a bit,” before ending the call.

“Who were you talking to?” Toxic asked, leaning in closer to Ursula, her curiosity piqued as she raised a questioning brow.

“I hate to leave you two, but I got a good feeling we’ll see each other again,” Ursula remarked, swiftly retrieving her wallet from her pocket and tossing cash on the counter, instructing the waiter to keep the change. Her actions conveyed a sense of urgency and purpose as she prepared to depart, a glimpse of her commitment to helping others in need.

“Is everything ok?” Simon asked without thinking, a rare moment of concern breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

“Will be soon. You two enjoy your late-night snack. Good meetin’ ya!” Ursula bid them farewell before swiftly exiting the diner and speeding away on her motorcycle, leaving behind a sense of mystery and intrigue in her wake.

“I like Ursula,” Toxic remarked, taking a sip of her orange soda.

“She’s nice…” Simon murmured, his eyes drifting down to his plate. He continued to eat, resting his elbows on the counter as he held the patty melt in his hands.

Toxic carefully eyed his movements, resting her elbows on the counter as she picked up her sandwich and took a hearty bite. She noticed Simon wiping some grease off his chin with his thumb and followed suit, dabbing her own chin with her thumb.

Once they finished their meal, Simon signaled the waiter and paid for their bill. He slid off his barstool and stretched, his joints making a faint crackling noise.

“Ready, Toxic?”

“Ok,” she replied, letting out a small grunt as she climbed down from her barstool. She followed Simon out of the diner and back to their jeep. They continued to take the long way home, the engine purring as they drove through the various city streets.

As Toxic stared out the window while they passed by neon lights and towering billboard advertisements, her eyelids grew heavy. Her animated chatter slowed, and eventually, she fell silent, her head leaning against the door.

“Simon…” she murmured, her tiny voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Today was my favorite day,” she said, her voice becoming softer as her eyes fluttering closed.

Simon’s thoughts drifted back to a pivotal moment in his life. He remembered the day vividly—the day he first truly embraced the life of combat. His old colony in the Mobian Jungle had been ruthlessly attacked by Robotnik’s forces. In the aftermath, he had dedicated himself to stockpiling weapons, acquiring them through any means necessary, even illegitimately. His grandfather had disapproved and cast him out, but Simon remained resolute in his quest for revenge. He launched a one-man assault on a Robotnik base, risking everything. Though he nearly perished in the onslaught of reinforcements, he harbored no regrets. He was ready to die in a blaze of glory. Instead, he was saved by Mammoth Mogul, the former leader of the Destructix, and given the chance to grow stronger. And grow he did, his resolve unwavering.

Simon’s gaze shifted to Toxic, who had fallen asleep, her head resting against the door panel. Despite her crass behavior and turbulent beginnings, she possessed a fierce determination that reminded him of himself years ago. She showed no hesitation in tasks like gunning down law enforcement and had a remarkable knack for marksmanship. Most admirably, she had no regrets about any of it. All of this, and she wasn’t even five years old.

“Just you wait, kid,” he murmured, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

As the wee hours of the morning descended, the group made their way back to the familiar confines of the old orphanage without encountering any significant obstacles. Exhausted by the night's tumultuous events, they retired to their beds, seeking much-needed rest.

Armed with a considerable sum of illicitly acquired wealth, they now had more than enough funds for the cybernetic implants they desired. The following day, Scourge visited an auto shop to enhance the purple sports car he had commandeered while chasing his sister earlier in the week. In addition to repairing the window damaged during the pursuit, he had the vehicle repainted in a gleaming electric green hue and outfitted it with a matching spoiler, giving it the appearance of a sleek racecar—a subtle nod to his supersonic speed.

"It must be my birthday!" Scourge declared exuberantly, letting out a triumphant whoop as he cruised through the city streets. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and he bobbed his head in time to a hip-hop beat playing on the radio.

"Just wait until we're back in power," Fiona remarked with a grin, tapping her foot to the music while setting up her new laptop, which Miles would use to coordinate with the gang through their upcoming cybernetic enhancements.

"Then it'll be Christmas," he chuckled. "Have you found us a street clinic?"

"Yeah, Dr. Fedorov's Clinic. The reviews say he's good at what he does and values patient confidentiality, if you catch my drift," she replied slyly, offering a wink.

"Perfect," he nodded approvingly, flicking his cigarette butt out of the window.

"I messaged him, and he does provide the implants we need, but it will cost extra since they are military-grade and not exactly legal. He does have other stuff too if you’re interested?" she continued.

"Really? Show me," Scourge requested, turning his attention to her.

"Eyes on the road, babe," Fiona playfully scolded. "Don’t wanna be in a body cast before the big day."

“C’mon baby, your boy’s a good driver…” the green hedgehog began, his hand stroking her arm with a self-assured smirk. However, the tender moment with his girlfriend was short-lived as he abruptly hit the brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision with a turning car. The irate driver honked at him, prompting Scourge to retaliate by flipping them off and calling out, “up yours too, you old bitch!”

Fiona leaned her elbow casually against the door panel, raising an eyebrow as she rested her cheek on her knuckles, her gaze fixed on Scourge.

"What?" Scourge inquired, bewildered by her demeanor.

"Is this why you prefer running?" she queried, her tone laced with sarcastic curiosity.

"Cut me some slack, Fiona. I'm just hyped about everything that's happening, plus I've got a hot girl by my side," he retorted defensively, shrugging his shoulders.

"Am I too much of a distraction?" Fiona teased, a playful glint in her eye. "Because I can hop out."

"Please, exit the moving vehicle," Scourge replied amidst laughter.

"I might just do that. I'd probably better have better chances with that than being in a crash with you at the wheel," she jested, joining in his amusement.

"You bitch," Scourge teased, shaking his head.

"You're a bitch too," she shot back with a smirk, playfully poking his arm.

"The baddest of them all," Scourge declared, raising a finger in emphasis.

“Damn right,” Fiona replied, affectionately resting a hand on Scourge's shoulder, causing his grin to widen in response to her gesture.

“Does our doc buddy take walk-ins?” Scourge inquired, pausing at a stoplight and tapping his finger on the steering wheel, displaying a hint of impatience as he waited for the light to turn green.

“Yeah, but for now, we only have time for the procedures Miles mentioned. He says if we want it done today for three people, they better come in pretty soon,” Fiona answered, retracting her hand to focus on her laptop.

“Call the guys, then. Make sure Miles gets some food and water before they head over. Can't have a dead rat lying around,” Scourge instructed, his tone casual.

“On it,” Fiona responded, scrolling through her contacts. “And while we're out, how about you and I grab some actual food for a change?”

“Takeout only,” Scourge declared, navigating through the pristine streets maintained by private cleaning companies in this upscale area. He adjusted his sunglasses as the reflection of a sleek skyscraper caught his eye. “This place is different from the slums. People pay more attention to politics around here. They might recognize me.”

“As long as it's not dripping in grease, deal,” Fiona agreed, raising her phone to her ear to notify the Destructix about the upcoming appointment.

From what Scourge told them about the clinics, the gang harbored some reservations about visiting one. These establishments often offered walk-in surgeries for cybernetic implants and plastic surgery, resembling tattoo parlors in their approach. Overall, the idea of undergoing surgical procedures in a building situated across from a strip club left them feeling somewhat uneasy.

Despite the initial reservations, the clinic appeared to be well-regarded and maintained when Simon, Predator, and Lightning stepped into the empty waiting room. The sole occupant, a teenage receptionist, was engrossed in air drumming to a tune playing on her earbuds, her eyes shut tight, oblivious to their arrival.

Unperturbed by her distraction, Predator approached her and deftly removed her earbuds, eliciting a startled yelp as she opened her eyes to meet his unyielding gaze.

"Jesus, dude! What do you want?" she exclaimed.

"We're here to see the doctor. Our boss arranged cybernetic procedures for the three of us," Predator stated firmly, his expression as unchanging as a statue’s.

"Uh, yeah..." she stammered, clearing her throat and avoiding his chilling gaze. She turned her head towards an archway down the left hallway. "Hey, Uncle Rick? These guys are here."

"Come on back, fellas!" a gruff voice called out from the indicated direction, prompting them to follow the sound into a small, dimly lit operating room. The examination table, peculiarly equipped with straps for the arms and legs, was surrounded by an array of advanced equipment and technology that seemed more at home on a spaceship than in a street clinic. Why the technology on display surpassed anything they had encountered on Mobius, which was already far from primitive.

“Alright, so here’s the rundown,” he began, fixing his sunglasses, “Each session will take about two hours each. Y’all will be put under the whole time and won’t feel a thing. Aftercare is just a pill a day to help with any aches and fight off infections. And before I forget,” he added, extending a hand forward expectantly “payment’s up front. 9,000 moebiums.”

“That’s insane,” Lightning scoffed, crossing his arms.

“These are military grade implants you fellas are asking for,” Dr. Fedorov chided, “illegal without government authorization and not exactly a commodity amongst street clinics.”

“Relax, Lightning,” Simon said, smacking Lightning gently on the back of the shoulder before handing over the cash. “We can afford it regardless.”

After quickly thumbing through the bills, Dr. Fedorov grinned, his gold tooth glinting from the soft glow of the neon lights in the room. “Great. Who's up first?”

“I will go first if nobody objects,” Simon declared. When the group didn’t object, he continued “alright, you guys don’t gotta wait around ‘til I’m done. Go do whatever.”

“Later, man,” Lightning said with a wave, motioning for Predator to follow him out of the clinic.

For Predator, it felt like he didn’t get to spend much one-on-one time with Lightning nowadays. As they strolled past the many vibrant, and some vulgar signs and advertisements, his gaze flitted between the colorful displays, but his focus remained on the man beside him. Remembering the previous night after the bank robbery, when Flying ended up joining them on the ride home, Predator couldn't shake the feeling that something important to him had been interrupted. Nevertheless, now they had this time alone, and Predator felt a unique sense of calm and connection with Lightning, like they were a force shielded from the chaos of the world around them.

Reflecting on these feelings, Predator wondered if it was strange to experience such closeness with a longtime companion like Lightning. More than anything, though, he pondered whether Lightning felt the same way in his presence.

The blaring horn of a passing car jolted Predator back to reality, causing him to shift his thoughts and chastise himself for delving into such introspection. He recognized that dwelling on these feelings served no practical purpose and only served as a distraction from their established camaraderie.

Lightning, however, caught sight of Predator's gaze from the corner of his eye before the blue hawk quickly averted his eyes. Frowning slightly, Lightning inquired, "you alright?"

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine," Predator replied, clearing his throat nervously, feeling his heart skip a beat under the scrutiny of Lightning's gaze.

“Okay,” Lightning responded, raising an eyebrow in skepticism before dismissing it with a shrug. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I’m open to anything,” Predator answered.

“Anything? Even the XXX Live Theater? Sign says it’s half off Wednesday,” Lightning teased, nudging Predator playfully with a mischievous grin.

With a soft chuckle, Predator shook his head, “god, live theater? What is it, broadway?”

“Yeah, a full-blown musical,” Lightning jested, sharing in Predator's amusement.

“It’d probably be better than that one-man play Flying did last year. I’ve never heard an audience actually scream boo,” Lightning remarked as they stood waiting to cross the street.

“Well, whenever you spray the front row with a fire extinguisher while screaming the alphabet, it really kills the mood,” Predator quipped with a shrug.

“Hopefully the ‘Happy Holiday Special’ doesn’t have as many problems,” Lightning remarked as they began walking across the crosswalk together.

“The what?” Predator asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“You heard me,” Lightning replied with a small laugh.

“Lovely,” Predator said sarcastically.

"To be honest, though, Hawks, it feels like you and I don’t hang out as much lately," Lightning remarked, wrapping an arm around Predator in a friendly gesture. "We got a couple hours to kill and it’s a big ci- what was that?"

“What was what?” The blue hawk inquired, dumbfounded.

“Your feathers got all puffy for a second and your tail, like, wagged,” Lightning pointed out, a teasing smirk playing on his face.

“I was only adjusting my feathers,” Predator replied, feigning interest in reading a nearby sign as he struggled to hide the flush creeping up his face.

“Hm, alright then,” the lynx chuckled, not entirely convinced by his friend's explanation but choosing to let it go.

Eager to shift the focus away from the embarrassing moment, Predator quickly scanned their surroundings for a distraction. His gaze settled on a skyscraper about half a mile away, sparking an idea.

“Well,” he began, an implicative grin forming, “I bet the view from that skyscraper is breathtaking.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lightning responded, intrigued.

“If you want, we could find out for ourselves,” Predator proposed.

“I’m down,” Lightning agreed enthusiastically.

With a swift motion, Predator spread his wings and took flight, with Lightning leaping up to grab onto his ankles. Carrying his friend effortlessly, they shot through the air toward the towering skyscraper, their destination in sight.

Upon reaching the rooftop, Predator landed smoothly, allowing Lightning to hop down onto the concrete.

“Wow…” Lightning marveled, settling on the edge. “This city may be a dump to live in but… you were right about the view.”

“I’ve... never seen anything quite like it,” Predator admitted softly, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily softened by the awe-inspiring sight before them.

The mesmerizing horizon held them in silent awe for several minutes. Sitting side by side, they absorbed the symphony of flying vehicles' gentle hum and marveled at the kaleidoscope of colorful city lights flickering below. Even in the daytime, the urban landscape sparkled as sunlight bounced off the polished surfaces of the towering skyscrapers.

Despite their shared knowledge that New Moebotropolis was far from utopian, in that moment, they felt a sense of detachment from its flaws. In the serene stillness of the sky, even the most sordid aspects seemed to fade away, revealing an unexpected beauty in the urban chaos.

In the presence of one another, they both found beauty where no one else could.

"I wonder what the view’s like from somewhere even higher?" Lightning mused, casting his gaze towards an even taller building.

“That’d be all well and good, Lightning,” Predator replied, “but I’ve a feeling you’d want to do more than just sightseeing…”

“Maybe I do,” Lightning responded, turning to face him. “What did you have in mind?”

“We freefall,” Predator declared as he rose to his feet. “As far down as we can.”

“And potentially splatter against an airbus?” Lightning quipped with a chuckle.

“Lightning Lynx, when did you start to fear risking your life?” Predator teased, lowering himself to Lightning's level, a smirk playing on his lips as their eyes locked.

“Who said I did?” Lightning shot back with a playful tone, standing up.

“Ah, yes. Because you know better than to forget who is looking out for you,” Predator remarked, rising to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lightning scoffed before playfully urging, “you first, Hawks!” and gave Predator a sudden push over the ledge.

Predator's eyes widened in surprise as he tumbled backward. Although he knew he had nothing to fear as a bird, he never expected his friend to push him off a roof in any circumstance. Moments later, as Lightning leaped after him, a mix of determination and smugness on his face, their eyes met, and Predator couldn't help but grin with a blend of amusement and camaraderie.

Adjusting his position in the air, Predator oriented himself downward, maintaining a vigilant watch for any potential obstacles as he descended rapidly towards the ground, with Lightning not far behind.

For Lightning, the sensation of detachment from solid ground was both exhilarating and liberating. As he ripped through the air with no fear, embracing the risk and the rush of adrenaline, he felt a profound sense of empowerment that surged through him, amplifying the thrill of the freefall.

As they descended closer to the ground, Predator turned towards Lightning once more and gestured for him to grab onto his feet. After aligning themselves, Lightning firmly clasped his ankles, and in a swift motion, Predator shot back up into the sky, narrowly evading the bewildered onlookers below.

Reaching the next skyscraper, they paused to savor the breathtaking view before Lightning, brimming with confidence, snapped a photo of the duo against the urban backdrop. Without hesitation, they plunged back towards the earth. As they neared ground level, they propelled themselves upwards to an even taller skyscraper, repeating the cycle from one building to another until they reached the tallest skyscraper around.

"This time," Predator announced, positioning himself at the edge with his hand extended towards Lightning, "we fall together."

With a warm smile, Lightning took Predator's hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with his trusted companion. "On three... one, two, three!" Predator counted before they both leaped off the ledge, their hands clasped tightly as they plummeted towards the ground.

The thrill of freefalling was intense, but the shared experience with one another made it all the more exhilarating. As they locked eyes during their daring descent, the rush of adrenaline was magnified by the bond of something more than mere friendship that united them in this extraordinary escapade.

Lost in the thrill of the moment, they failed to notice how rapidly they were approaching the ground. As Lightning turned his head to take in the surrounding view, his initial excitement swiftly transformed into a sense of urgency when he realized their perilous proximity to the sidewalk below. Reacting instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Predator's neck, gripping him tightly as he shouted, "Pull up, Hawks!"

Cursing softly under his breath, Predator swiftly extended his wings and ascended back into the sky, maneuvering them both safely back to the rooftop of the skyscraper they had leaped from moments before.

"Jesus, Hawks!" Lightning gasped, his heart pounding in his chest, momentarily forgetting that his arms were still wrapped around Predator.

"Sorry, Lightning," Predator responded, placing a comforting hand on Lightning's shoulder as the lynx sheepishly withdrew his arms.

"Don't worry... I still had a great time," Lightning managed to say between pants, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Me too," Predator replied sincerely, giving Lightning's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. With his eyes stuck on his companion’s grin, he felt compelled to speak up, "Hey, Lightning?"

"What's on your mind?" Lightning inquired, noticing a shift in Predator’s demeanor as he somehow seemed startled by his own question.

Retracting his hand and wiping sweat from his brow, Predator let out a deep sigh and gazed down at his feet before asking, "where would you like to grab some lunch from?"

"How does ramen sound? We can have it here," Lightning suggested, perched on the ledge.

"Sounds good. Wait here, and I'll bring it up, okay?" Predator agreed, gazing out at the horizon before spreading his wings and taking flight.

During his search for a ramen shop, his mind was tearing itself apart. Predator Hawk was anything but a coward, but he couldn’t bear the risk of jeopardizing the bond he had with Lightning. He treasured his relationship with him deeply, considering him one of his most cherished, irreplaceable companions. With only a few words, Lightning may never see him the same again. After all, he still held bitterness about his heart being broken by Conquering Storm several months ago. Would broaching this potentially sensitive topic cross a line with Lightning? Could it imply to him that their friendship was lacking in some way to Predator? Even if Lightning responded the way he dreamed, what then? With his lack of experience in that field, things could end badly, thus causing him to lose both what he has now and what he wishes he had.

Besides, he couldn’t risk revealing such a deeply personal and vulnerable side of himself. For years, he had meticulously worked to mask that part of his identity, a task he had undertaken since childhood, ever since his own mother had abandoned him.

He had long known that she didn’t like him. She was constantly yelling at him for things including not making eye contact, swaying in his seat, fussing when things were too loud, or struggling to express himself. But it was the late-night arguments between his parents that truly exposed the depth of her resentment. As he lay awake in bed, he overheard her tirades, calling him a freak and resenting his father for not giving her a "normal" child. In comparison, his father’s disdain was more subdued until she left.

From that painful moment on, he resolved to improve himself so that no one would ever want to leave him again. Every day became a challenge to better himself and reach new heights. By his teens, he had become a fierce soldier in the Battle Bird Armada, learning to endure eye contact, sit still and quietly, manage overstimulation, and most importantly, mask the parts of himself that had previously been shunned by others.

Despite his fierce pride and genuine enjoyment of his achievements, his father rarely showed any pride in him. No matter how much he changed and grew, to Nigel Hawk, Predator would always be the abnormal child who drove his wife away. The day Predator was promoted in the Armada, he returned home, packed some essential belongings, and left without a single word to his father, severing contact forever.

For a time, his might and determination to be the best were his only constants. These traits saw him through being expelled from the Armada for attacking the Battle Lord's son and during his tenure with the Babylon Rogues. However, after joining the Destructix, despite its shifting leadership and affiliations, he found another constant.

Simon, Flying… and Lightning.

He knew what it was like to lose him. Even with his gratitude for the presence of Simon and Flying, when Lightning left the Destructix to rejoin the Raiju Clan—where he wasn’t nearly as valued as he had been among the Destructix—a part of Predator felt hollow. The empty chair at the table, the silence where Lightning’s words should have been, left an undeniable void.

Lightning had been back for quite some time now, and although Predator hadn’t shown it much, he was overjoyed by his return. It was because of this that he knew he couldn’t reveal his true feelings for Lightning. The revelation would inevitably lead to the displaying of a weak, vulnerable side of himself that may push Lightning away. Predator resolved to take these feelings to his grave.

No matter how foolish it seemed, though, he wanted it more than anything. The more he repressed his feelings, the louder they became. Even if he wouldn’t allow himself to act on them, he couldn’t lie to himself—they were undeniably there.

"Predator?" Lightning's voice cut through the silence as the two gazed out over the urban horizon from the skyscraper, each holding a takeout lunch.

Lost in his thoughts, Predator had barely registered the last thirty minutes.

"Yes?" Predator responded, trying to collect himself after noticing Lightning's concerned expression.

"You haven't even opened your ramen," Lightning remarked, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl before taking a bite of noodles. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just waiting for it to cool more..." Predator replied, clearing his throat as he removed the lid, releasing a puff of steam into the air.

"Then why'd you keep the lid on?" Lightning inquired. "You know that just traps the heat."

"I guess I forgot," Predator admitted, absentmindedly taking a bite of his meal then wincing as he spat out piping noodles that had burned his beak.

"Slow down, Hawks!" Lightning cautioned. "You seem really out of it. You sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine, Lightning," Predator responded, wiping the mess with a napkin.

"I know you better than that. What's wro-"

"I said there's nothing wrong," Predator cut in sharply.

Taken aback by his tone, Lightning reacted with a scoff of offense before turning away, muttering, "fine."

The two lapsed into a bitter silence, finishing their meals before receiving word from Simon that his procedure had gone well and it was time for one of them to undergo it.

"Do you want to go next?" Lightning asked, his gaze locked on his phone rather than Predator.

"Fine," the blue hawk replied impassively.

As they flew back to the clinic together, the storm in Predator's mind raged on. He hadn't intended to be harsh with Lightning, but he couldn't let his inner turmoil spill out. Now, tension lingered between them. While he knew they could likely overcome it, the guilt of his treatment towards Lightning weighed on his heart. Concealing his feelings felt crucial, yet he pondered how far he would need to go to maintain that facade.

Above all, he questioned whether it would be worth doing so in the end.

…

(SO the surprise was revealed! It’s Ursula the Polar Bear!!!!! For those unaware, Ursula belongs to @ceoofdestructix and was written in with both their permission and guidance! Thanks for letting me use the mama bear, friend! I can’t wait to write more “surprises” with your help 😉)

[abidethetempest]

Hello! I was wondering if you got some Eliksni cuss words or something similar yet? I got a character that tend to curse a lot when he failed at something (something he made breaks down or he got his butt kicked in a sparring match), and I was wondering if you planned for any curses at the moment?

New here and confused? This post is part of my ongoing project to create a language for the Eliksni! For more information check out my masterpost linked here.

Here are some curse words I came up with from my current dictionary! Definitely not exhaustive, just what I could make off the top of my head!

Words for expressing frustration, anger, annoyance, etc: Irso: shortening of irsovek meaning "a lie/a deception", basically means "bullshit" or any variation thereof.

Piidsa: literally "shit" but would be used like "damn (it), shit, fuck", expressing surprise, frustration, or similar. Also can be used as an adjective/adverb for emphasis, e.g. pehka "bad" vs piidsa pehka "bad as hell/fucking bad".

Vathaanya: imperative reflexive form of "die", literally telling someone to "go die yourself". Comes across as "get fucked/go fuck yourself".

Words for insulting people:

Slo'at: prey, when you use it against a person it means you think they're weak/useless.

Nadrosk: "no-honor", I chose the English translation to be "coward" but it could also stand in for any number of words like "bastard", "motherfucker", etc. VERY insulting, only call someone this to their face if you wanna get decked. Not a word that could be used in a playful or friendly context the way we might lovingly call a friend "bastard".

Apart from the above words, which would be vulgar in any context, using the correct register is incredibly important, and not doing so properly can be seen as rude, disrespectful, or even insubordinate. It's a little hard to give examples from English since there's not really such a rigid system of registers, but think of it like calling a teacher by their first name or swearing in front of your boss. Unless you know they're gonna be cool with it, it would come off as super rude. Just using the wrong register with someone, especially intentionally, would be like swearing in Eliksni.

[raevingmadness]

can you do billie eilish x fem reader angst/fluff where they have a fight and billie apologises ;)

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

‼️warnings‼️: arguing, angst, fluff, neglect, swearing, shouting

Did I cross the line?

.~*___________________________*~.

.~*___________________________*~.

Dating Billie was one of the best things to happen to you. She was caring and kind, not to mention she always had a way to lighten up a tough situation. Typically, Billie was a clingy and affectionate girlfriend. Unfortunately, she had a habit of getting caught up in her work. She pushed herself to burn out for the sake of her fans. With tour taking up majority of her time, as well as the time she spent in the studio, you’d begun to drift apart. Despite your best efforts to set up date nights and time together, Billie rarely wanted to go along with it. She was either working or too tired from working. Billie’s exhaustion had tension in the home crackling. Each comment, each request was a new tick in the time bomb.

When Billie returned home, wordlessly showering and getting into bed, you made an attempt to communicate. “You know, we haven’t been on a date for a while-“ You cleared your throat, fiddling with a pillow on your lap. “You don’t need to remind me.” Billie said sharply, eyes burning into yours as she turned to face you. “Well I thought you forgot. You’ve been busy, maybe it slipped your mind.” You tried a soft tone, trying to make her realise you weren’t attacking her. “What are you trying to imply? That I don’t care about you?” She scoffed, getting defensive already. Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “When did I say that?” You scoffed in disbelief. It was so hard talking to her lately. “It was implied.” Billie murmured, picking at her nails. “It wasn’t. Maybe listen to me for once? You’ve barely looked at me for a month.” You said, voice taking on a sharp edge.

Billie’s darkened with annoyance, the silver moonlight highlighting the spark burning in her gaze. “Barely looked at you? Dramatic. You’re constantly on my mind-“ Billie spoke. “The back of your mind more like.” You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the headboard. “Well I have a career I’m trying to keep alive. Don’t be spoilt.” Billie’s anger rose, the spark in her eyes rising to a flame of annoyance. “I’m not being spoilt. Maybe I want my girlfriend to acknowledge me!” You shouted, hitting your knuckles against your palm for emphasis. “You’re stressing me out.” She rubbed her temples, closing her eyes as her breathing became jagged. “I’m stressing you out? I’m trying to communicate with you! I want you to know that you’re hurting me.” You shook your head in disbelief. This wasn’t the Billie you’d fallen in love with. “Maybe you should keep it to yourself.” She shrugged, staring up at the ceiling.

You couldn’t believe Billie. Her lack of care, the bitterness in her voice, the way she refused to meet your eyes. She couldn’t be more different from the woman you’d fallen for. You hiccuped, tears burning your eyes. “Billie, look at me.” You gritted your teeth. She stared up blankly at the ceiling. “Billie.” You repeated, firmly this time. “What?” She shouted. Her tone was sharp, cold. Her eyes were burning flames of annoyance, glowing a cold flame in the moonlight. Her voice cut through you, breaking through your last wall of defence. A choked sob left your lips. “Why are you acting like this? Did you fall out of love with me?” You asked shakily, gripping at the pillow as an attempt to ground yourself.

Hearing the sobs and the accusations made Billie’s flame of annoyance flicker. Hesitantly, she turned to face you. She melted. “What? no- no I haven’t fallen out of love.” She shook her head, reaching for your hand. You hiccuped, flinching away from her touch. “What’s been with you lately? I know you’ve been working a lot but you haven’t made a single attempt to show me affection, to look at me even.” You questioned between sobs. “Baby, I’ve just been tired-“ “that’s not an excuse!” You cut her off. Billie flinched, anxiously playing with her rings. “Did I cross the line?” She whispered. You nodded, tears burning down your face. She made a shaky attempt to reach for your hand again. “I’m sorry. I’ve been exhausted, I’ve been stressed. I thought every time I’d speak to you I’d be so tired I’d snap.” She admitted. “Like tonight?” You tried to swallow the bitter tone. “Like tonight.” She confirmed, wincing slightly. “You could’ve- should’ve communicated that.” You said firmly. Billie nodded, looking ashamed. “I should’ve. I truly am sorry.” Her words softened, hand sliding into yours.

“It was just hard for me to work so much and then any time I got time to myself to recharge, you wanted to go out. I was too tired to go out for a date, get interrupted by paparazzi and have to act happy about it. I should’ve told you, I was stupid.” She shook her head, wiping away her tears. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Just, communicate next time. Please.” You sighed, settling your breathing to speak to her properly. “I will. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.” She said, kissing your knuckles affectionately. You let a smile crack through your saddened expression. “Maybe take a moment away from the studio? If you can’t get away from tour, remove some other stress from your life.” You suggested. She took a moment to think before nodding. “I’ll text Finneas. We can take a break from new stuff.” She agreed.

As emotions settled, tears wiped away and apologies spoken and accepted you were both able to relax. Billie pulled you into her embrace, peppering you with kisses and mumbling apologies. “Next time I act like an ass, just shout at me.” She joked, stroking her thumb against your cheek. “If you pull this shit again, I’ll do more than shout.” You snickered, kissing the tip of her nose. “I’d deserve it.” She murmured, pulling you into a kiss. Her arms caged your body against her own. “I truly am sorry for the way I acted.” She whispered. You gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “It’s okay, Billie. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

.~*___________________________*~.

.~*___________________________*~.

[rissararity]

Keep My Secret - Stucky/OC

By RissaRarity

(Nsfw, omegaverse, unprotected p/v sex, pre-rut anger)

(I know it says my profile but I swear the link is to the fic masterlist. Idk what the problem is)

THIS CHAPTER TAKES PLACE BEFORE STEVE AND BUCKY BECOME MATES, but after That Time in Space.

THE OFFICE JOB - (Steve + Prism)

The mission was simple, Priz and Cap had to sweep the abandoned Hydra research base and bring back anything of interest. Bucky was needed on a mission with Tony - his fluent Russian being what got him roped into it-so Prism offered to go in his place.

She'd been hoping for Nat to be leading the mission, since the two often had great conversations and some laughs, and pouted a little upon hearing who her alpha for this mission was.

Prism laid on the bench in the back of the quinjet while Steve piloted it, having recently acquired a taste for it.

"So...what do you think we'll find?" she asked after a while, sprawled on her back with her face turned to look toward the cockpit.

"I don't know." He brushed her off. He'd been really cold recently, not just to Prism but everyone - even Bucky. Quick to anger and rash actions weren't usually part of the Captain America deal but lately they sure were part of the Steve Rogers deal.

Her silver eyes narrowed, glaring a hole into the back of his head with a small growl.

She could feel his irritation rising but chose to persist despite it, holding her glare that could curdle milk.

With an annoyed huff, the alpha whipped around in his chair ready to yell at her...but his breath caught when he turned to face her.

She lay on her back on the bench, leg by the wall on the top of the back rest, other one bent with her foot flat on the bench. Her long moonlight locks swirled in endless rivers of liquid silver, curling around her features perfectly despite her position because of her powers. Her lips were painted a deep red that made the steel in her eyes look harder, long dark lashes and winged eyeliner gave her a constant sultry look- even if she was giving him a look that could kill.

Her cheeks were naturally pink, a trait he ordinarily liked in a woman but in this moment he hated. His anger stopped growing but remained uncomfortably high, as evident by the sour, angry alpha pheromones he couldn't help but put out.

At last, they got to her and she looked away, ducking her head as he silently stormed over. She sat upright, heart beating loudly in her ears as he breathed heavily standing over her. She whimpered when his hand moved, making him pause before heavily dropping it onto her shoulder.

"I'm not in the mood for the attitude today. Just shut up and watch my back, okay?" he squeezed her painfully on 'okay' for emphasis.

Prism whined again, feeling her bone struggle under his grip. It lasted only a couple of seconds but the pain felt deep. "Yes, Captain."

He exhaled slowly, calming down then sighing. He ignored her flinch as he reached back out and softly rubbed her shoulder for a few seconds until it felt better, awkwardly standing straight up after.

"We land in ten." He turned on his heel and returned to the cockpit.

She began to worry, and requested that Jarvis tap Steve's watch for a body scan - explaining his odd behavior and how it had been escalating.

There was a feeling in her gut that something wasn't right with him.

The AI promised to do so, vowing to report back as soon as possible.

Cap watched the parameter while Prism used her magic to physically move the locking mechanism to open the door.

It slowly rolled open with a groan of protest, big enough for a car to drive through. Shield at the ready, the alpha immediately took point and headed inside first, looking around suspiciously.

She followed silently behind him as they soon entered the first office, of many. She pulled at a filing cabinet and growled in annoyance as it didn't budge.

Steve rolled his eyes but waved her off, grabbing the handle and delivering one sharp yank, breaking the seal and opening the drawer. He gave a cocky grin to the woman who rolled her eyes, hip bumping him aside to begin plucking files. "Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome, I guess." He mocked, breaking into the desk drawer with the same move.

They splayed out the files and pulled out small square silver boxes with a circle on the side, like a mini camera.

But these cameras were Stark brand, military grade devices that could scan a stack of paper - as long as it was unobstructed- and upload their contents elsewhere.

A blue light came from the lens area as they worked, making their way through all the papers they could find. It was surprisingly quick work when you had nothing to talk about.

The more time they spent doing this, gradually going deeper and deeper into the base, the more irritated Steve seemed to get. He was paranoid and getting aggressive.

She tip toed around him and made an extra effort to stay out of his way and keep up, hair on end and alert. His pheromones darkened with his mood, almost feeling heavy when they hit her senses.

Prism wished she could just cuddle and talk with him to help him calm down but her survival instincts told her doing such would be too dangerous right now. Everytime he even glanced in her direction she flinched and cowered, unable to hide her omega response to this feeling of being in danger.

What she didn't know was he'd have snapped much sooner if she didn't react this way - eyes keen for the smallest sign of disrespect or dominance.

They hadn't run into any hostiles or traps but Cap progressively getting worse gave Prism plenty of stress. At this point, she'd have taken the hostiles if given the choice.

"Can't you just teleport us to the commanders office? He's probably got everything backed up somewhere." His voice was cold as ice as he scanned another paper stack.

"I'm afraid not, Captain. I can only teleport to places I'm familiar with and have been before." She replied shortly.

"....fucking useless..." he grumbled, turning away from her.

Her chest got tight as she had an omega response to his ire, trying to give him a wide berth to alleviate it and for her own safety.

At last, while they headed toward the next room her comms recieved a call not from Jarvis, but Bucky-who she believed to be busy on a mission of his own.

"Sup Buck?"

"Is Steve still with you?" he asked worridly while she followed the alpha in question into a department heads office.

"Yes. Why?"

He sighed, "Jarvis got his results back and thought it best to ask me...since I have the most experience with him."

The "beta" waited for him to elaborate.

"He shouldn't have gone on a mission right now. I told him it was coming but he insisted it could wait for one easy mission."

"What was coming? Spit it out." She eyed the blonde suspiciously, slowly working without looking to scan her files.

"He's going into rut, Priz. The serum makes us progressively more aggressive until we snap on someone...then try to vigorously fuck them for the next three or four days if they're hot."

"So anger is the first step...then..." her voice faded out, eyes wide.

"You've got to get away from him. But don't tell him you know about his incoming rut or it'll piss him off." He pauses, "or make a gesture and help him through his rut if you think you can handle him. He's a lot stronger than a normal alpha so...be sure if you decide to try him out."

She blinked, watching Steve grumble to himself while he ripped more drawers open. "You're okay with that? I thought you and Steve..."

"Sometimes on missions, and for ruts but he's not mine. Besides, we've slept together on missions too, Doll."

"That's different, we're betas and it was for the sake of the mission."

He chuckled, "Maybe in a way, but if you're asking me if I'm possessive of him the answer is no. He's welcome to do who and as he pleases, as am I."

He said that, but deep down knew if it was anyone other than Prism he'd be upset. For some reason, he approved of her.

"I'll think about it."

"Decide soon."

Feeling conflicted, she thought about how long it had been since she last went on a mission with either of the super soldiers, and how she'd noticed she'd been a little weaker than usual

She could only stave off her omega needs for so long. This seemed like a mutually beneficial circumstance- especially considering that if she refused him he'd likely attack her and chase her until his rut was over.

Prism had never been with an alpha during a rut, and she was glad she had the foresight to get an extra mini dose of suppressants before this mission. Hopefully, Steve would play off anything he picked up on as rut brain. If not, she'd have to do a little tidying up on his memory again.

After a moment of thought, she decided on her plan of action. Right now his pheromones were still reading as danger angry alpha, but according to Jarvis' scans and Bucky's personal experience, that would soon change to straight rut. It was difficult to try and relax around him in his current state, luckily she knew as soon as he accepted her their bodies would instinctively take care of the rest.

After a nervous gulp, she decided to just be direct. Small foot steps took her over to where he was scanning the titles of the books on the shelf, slowing slightly when he turned to look at her.

She stopped about two feet in front of him and barred her neck in submission to rein in his rage, butterflies in her stomach when he arched one brow skeptically.

The omega carefully let a tiny bit of her scent peak through, his nose twitched immediately and his gaze zeroed in on her like a predator.

He closed the distance, grabbing both of her shoulders to lock her in place while he buried his nose into her neck to get the most out of what slipped though.

"Mmm...You smell so good, Priz." His voice came out almost as a purr, soothing the panic in her mind.

"Let me help you with this, Steve."

Wrong thing to say.

He stood up straighter, eyes hardening again, "With what?" his voice was cold as death, making her cower a little but still deciding to go for the power move.

"With this," she boldly slid her hand over the crotch of his suit, pretending not to be surprised at how big and hard he was. "Can I help you with this, Alpha? Please? I'll be a good girl for you." she looked up with big eyes and watched his anger dissolve into pure lust as his angry pheromones changed to the intoxicating scent of his rut literally at her touch.

As soon as they did, her pupils dilated naturally to show the rutting alpha that she was interested. Now he would either violently attack her, or start fucking her into the wall.

He'd gotten her through her heat, not that he remembered it, so she was fairly confident he would accept her offer now but it was still a tense few seconds while he deliberated.

Luckily, he accepted her with a purr in his chest and grabbed her ass cheeks, letting her easily jump into his arms and wrap her legs around his muscular trunk.

His apple pie scent turned a little heavier and spicy as it took its rut form, adding cinnamon and clove to the intoxicating aroma. The omega wished she could bottle it and smell it forever-as was the intended, evolutionary purpose of the scent change.

To another alpha, he would stink.

He pinned her between himself and the wall while he dominated her mouth in a deep kiss, groaning into it as she grinded against him, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck.

"I want you bare." He grunted, getting a whimper of approval as she used her magic to leave herself entirely exposed to the alpha who purred for her as his eyes flicked over her briefly before he fumbled with his suit for a moment.

He shoved her up the wall and immediately dove into her, making her take him all the way to the hilt. She gasped at the sudden full stretch and deep sting, subconsciously reaching down to touch the bulge in her belly.

She was glad she was an Omega and not a beta...if she were a beta that would have hurt a lot more.

Steve growled, "...fuck. Keep doing that."

She pushed a bit more firmly, leaving the other hand to brace on his shoulder while he lifted and dropped her like she was weightless.

The stinging stopped only a couple of thrusts in as her body gave in to the alpha. The blonde rammed her up the wall while she panted and moaned in his ear, coil in her quickly snapping as his release triggered hers.

Another benefit of being an omega.

Steve speared her fully, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to meet his eyes while a string of curse words that could make a sailor blush came from his lips, and several strings of cum painted her cervix.

When they relaxed for a moment, her still perched on his dick with her back against the wall, she couldn't help but instinctively respond to rutting alpha pheromones - pressing submissive kisses to his jaw while he kept his fingers on her throat.

She gave needy whimpers and tried to ride him, "Please...please alpha...I need it."

Steve smirked arrogantly as he watched her while she ground down against his pelvis, back arching as she purposely stretched herself on him to feel as full as possible.

His eyes kept flicking to the bulge in her belly he knew was his cock, the shape looked so big under her delicate little hand.

"Mmm...you smell so good..." he groaned in pleasure as she landed hard and rocked side to side a couple of times.

"So do you." She winked, eyes glossed over with lust.

A growl vibrated in his chest as he lifted her away from the wall to somewhat unceremoniously drop her on the desk, immediately pummeling back into her. They shared a groan as her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, "S-Steve...please...I want..."

He managed to slow his thrusts so she could think, flattered that she was already at a loss for words.

"Tell alpha what you need, Dove." His voice was lower than she'd ever heard, dripping with desire. He met her gaze steadily, pupils wide.

Her cheeks burned at the thought of asking Steve this but her need for reassurance and support was motivation enough. "I want you to kiss me." She rushed the words out, shy . "And..." she licked her lips nervously as she looked him in the eye, sliding up the desk a little and rocking back again as his rough hands gripped her broad hips. "H-hold my hands...sometimes." Her silver gaze shifted to look directly above her, just above his face.

"You can be so sweet when you're not being a bitch." He grinned at the glare she shot him before leaning down to grip her jaw and hold it still while he slotted his mouth over hers-swallowing her pants and moans.

The blonde purred for her like he would for an omega, surprising her with the tenderness of his kiss-as if he knew she really did need it.

"Sweet little Dove with a perfect pussy...you're so wet for me...such a good girl for alpha." He murmured against her lips, pausing to lightly drag his nose up to her forehead the pressed a kiss to before surprising her by flipping her over so she laid on her stomach.

He grabbed her hands and made her place them palm down on the wood, reinserting his member then covering one of her hands with his and lacing their fingers while he eagerly shoved into her again and again.

"Fuck..." she groaned, doing her best to fuck back, squeezing his fingers as her end drew nearer.

He beat her to it, supporting her belly with one hand, he lifted her lower half slightly for a better angle then abused her womb for a few more seconds, each rapid thrust sending her breath out in short bursts. He could feel himself through her, closing his fingers slightly on either side of the bulge so he was almost jacking off.

When gave one final push and froze, holding himself deeply rooted in her.

Prism moaned his name as they finished together, ignoring the prick of her fangs against her lower lip as he did the same.

Steve slid her so she was on her feet again, but bent over the desk. "...you're perfect..." his calloused hands slid up and down her back, then her sides- following the sharp indent of her waist then flaring back out. She preened with his praise, legs already jelly when he kicked them a part more and used one hand to brace himself on her hip- pushing deep into her heat again with a swear and more mumbled praise.

The alpha grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her back, using one hand to grip them tightly. Each thrust pushed his thighs flush with her ass that bounced in recoil after each. "F-fill me with your cum, alpha. Please, please give me your cum." She strained a little to try and look back at him, eyes desperate.

He kept his slow and firm pace, a small smile on his handsome face as he met her eyes kindly despite his iron grip on her wrists.

"You beg so sweetly..." his hand slid off her hip to gently run his thumb up her jaw, leaving heat in it's wake. "Good girls get rewards, don't they?" his face contorted slightly as her body gave him a long squeeze, a small gasp falling from her lips as well as his.

The "beta" knew exactly the response he wanted, "Yes, Captain."

He gave a chortle, switching his pace to one that had her chest red from rubbing against the desk so much.

"Take my cum, Priz. Take it all." He growled just before his features twisted again and he burst, fucking her through her orgasm as well. He shallowly thrusted into her mostly just to see his cum covered dick drive in and out of her, and the result of filling her with multiple loads without letting her empty out.

Her stomach was visibly bloated, thick white cream poured from between her legs, painting her thighs and slowly sliding down her legs.

Both of them shuttered when he pulled out, both out of breath.

She knew alphas stamina was both higher, and lower during their rut. They came rather quickly, but had almost no refractory period. Prism didn't care if each round was short, because there would be many, many rounds and she was wired to orgasm from his cum so when he won...she won.

"We can't spend the rest of my rut here. We have to get back to the tower."

So you can find Bucky? She thought bitterly for a moment as jealousy hit her. Being exposed to his rut and so full of his cum made her omega brain possessive.

Priz rolled over and swore as she felt his cum moving inside, pouring over the edge of the desk as she sat up.

Cap smirked as he watched the display, ego inflating like her flooded womb. He stepped back to let her stand, having to catch her when her knees gave out.

"Don't wimp out on me now, Priz." He chuckled, eyes eagerly scanning her well fucked body.

"It's not my fault I can't walk."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Well, have a seat and keep your arms and legs around the alpha at all times cause we gotta go."

She giggled, making him smile as she perched on the desk and let him slip into her yet again, lifting her with ease and slowly starting to pump her up and down his length like a fleshlight.

The omega flicked her hands to put her super suit top back on, but instead of her pants a white skirt formed around her so allow for their...activities.

Since there were no hostiles or cameras on base, Steve carried her down the halls and back outside, using her to stroke himself with each step. Prism locked her jaw and rested her forehead on his shoulder, not bothered as it bounced a little with each step/thrust.

She tried to keep it down so he could focus and not get them lost. His face crinkled as he tried to hold back his next orgasm, now just about running toward the jet.

It opened for them upon arrival and he immediately took her to the back and laid her on the bench she was sprawled on on the way here, kneeling with one leg on it to push in three more times before filling her yet again.

He told the quinjets AI to set the course for base and the autopilot took over.

He took her several more times over the next few hours, bending her into positions she didn't know she could make.

Prism hoped he would keep her when other options became available upon their return- still bitter at the thought of him dumping her in favor of Bucky.

Luckily, he didn't. Naturally preferring Priz's omega scent over the beta.

The next three days were some of the best of her life.

[bookish-black-girl]

rambles beneath the cut because storygraph adds rereads to your yearly goal count and I'm the one person who wishes I could turn off that featureeee. I could journal these thoughts on the app but they'd be part of my first read and ew, no thanks.

I FINALLY got around to rereading the Charlotte Holmes books, one of my absolute favorite series that I just happen to...not talk about. Not here and not on my booksta.

So. In the spirit of blogging more, why not chat here!!

Firstly, this will be a later updated post because I've only reread books 1-2 and will tackle 3-4 later this year. Also, I first read these books before my frontal lobe developed and that's...is it weird that I miss the girl I was before 2019???

Anyway, my first read was strictly audio and my reread is a hybrid with heavy emphasis on audio.

A STUDY IN CHARLOTTE

Rating then, 4 stars (because Goodreads is half star-phobic)

Rating now, 4.25/4.5 stars (I can't really decide, also I decided not to change my ratings on Storygraph because I don't want to change every single rating I make for every book I reread.)

I love Jamie and Charlotte now as I loved them then. Back when I was closer to their age, Jamie was 100% my choice of book boyfriend in a world where I loved many book boy characters but didn't consider them 'book boyfriends' lol.

But I missed being in Jamie's head, how melodramatic he can be, funny without ever trying to be, his relationship with Holmes, being just as annoyed with his father as he is (I can't remember at the moment if I ever grew to like James Sr. in the end..)

THE LAST OF AUGUST

Rating then, 4 enthusiastic stars + a review that commented on how I couldn't understand why the 2nd book was the lowest rated one in the series

Rating now, 4 less enthusiastic, more so jaded stars (plus, if the book ended around chapter 7 we'd be looking at 3.5 stars.)

Maybe we chalk this up to age, but this book was a lot more angsty than I remember?? Or maybe I just didn't care back then and I because I care now, I notice it. Also, I was less confused about story events than I was the first round. So yay for reading comprehension.

3 very important take aways from the reading that I want to note here.

This book's title is SO on the nose and why did it take me 5 years later to put that together?! HELP--

The Holmes Family Needs Therapy. Or to be taken out. Or both??? Or either??? As the feelings of overall annoyance linger following my reread, I believe this book was written in a way to drive home the point of just how in over their heads Emma, and Leander, and Charlotte, and Milo are, especially concerning the rather stupid war between the Holmes and Moriartys. Everyone's batshit, just saying Charlotte made a grave mistake, young girl or not, and it was August who paid the price twice. Like...damn. He tries to warn Jamie and August is the one who dies. Damn.

However I feel about Charlotte and Holmes unequally yoked, toxic friendship with romantic overtures now (back then I was eating this shit up, and now I'm like....I'm too old to ship this with the extreme fever I did?????) the Charlotte POV chapters got me again. Probably like they did the first time I read this book. Some quotes down below??

Page 252, Charlotte berating Tom for his transgressions of book 1:

"You're disloyal," I told Tom. "You proved that with Mr. Wheatley. I swear to you that if you ever give up sensitive information again--if you ever betray Watson again--I will find a way to wear you as a hot. Stop looking at my screen."

Page 257, Charlotte expressing her love for Jamie without ever saying she loves him or that she's in love with him:

Watson had laughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners. Hours ago I thought he might have been dead. "There's also a view of the river," I said, and like a miracle, he laughed again. Oftentimes, I withhold information from Watson for this very reason. He resents it, I think. My "magic tricks." I don't know if he's understood yet who the reveals are really for.

Page 258, a line from Charlotte's internal monologue:

I'm a teenage girl. He is my boy best friend. We would be everything to each other until we couldn't.

Page 259, more thoughts on Jamie from Charlotte:

...Jamie was the only escape from myself I'd ever found. When I was beside him, I understood who I was. I spoke to him, and I liked the words I said. I spoke to him, and the words he said back surprised me. Sharpened me. ...Jamie showed me myself made better. He was loyal and kind, stalwart, like the knights from the old tales, and yes he was handsome, even with a bruised face and a furrowed brow, miles away from the place we met or from the places we called home.

We spend so much time in Jamie's head, with his thoughts, and how he internalizes information, events, etc. and there's no doubt that he's in love with his best friend, but the symmetry of seeing some of those feelings reflected back is something I can't ignore. And I'm not going to.

Anyway, I think I might join the masses in book 2 being my least favorite. I'll confirm after I read books 3 and 4, but it seems that's the direction we're going in.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

It’s moving. Tenzo isn’t sure what is in the giant box that Yua-san is holding out to him, but it’s moving and he’s concerned.

“Open it,” she insisted, pushing the box into his hands in a move that is all too familiar to his senpai. “Quickly. Before it suffocates.”

“Suffocates!?” Panic takes over in an instant and before he knows what he’s doing Tenzo rips the top off of the box and unleashes its hidden horrors onto the world. It’s only when the lid is off and discarded to the side that he realizes what he has done, and the regret is instant. “Uh.”

“Oh, please,” Yua rolls her eyes. “Did my son tell you to be cautious? He’s always over exaggerating things.”

In the background he can hear Kakashi yelling, but he can only make out two words behind the closed kitchen door. ‘Spider’ and ‘terrifying’.

It does nothing to sooth his anxieties.

“He’s being dramatic,” yua insists, waving away her son’s complaints with that closed eyes smile that she always gave Tenzo when she was trying to comfort him. “I promise it’s not that bad. I learned.”

It was only slightly comforting this time. Kakashi’s suffering meant that Tenzo wouldn’t have to face the same terrors, but he was still cautious.

Afraid of what was waiting for him inside of that moving box.

“Snow!” His ears perked up at the cry. Tenzo had always loved Grass type pokemon so he knew every single one of them, even the one’s who had dual typings.

Especially the one’s that he was unable to get due to their location in the world and his inability to travel to every single region in the blink of an eye.

“You didn’t…” he narrowed his eyes, refusing to believe what he had heard.

“Look,” she shoved the box against him, grinning in a way that he was certain would send even her best friend Mifune running for the hills. “It’s perfect for you, i swear.”

Finally he caved and peered into the box. Bright blue eyes stared up at him and within seconds two giant blue hands were reaching out to him.

“Snow!” It cried, begging him to lift it out of the box. Unable to deny it such a simple request, Tenzo reached in and carefully placed his hands under its arms.

As soon as he lifted it into the air it cried out happily, the icy wind of its breath sweeping over Tenzo so that his hair stood up on end.

“Oh,” Yua snorted. “I- that’s quite the new hair style.”

He wasn’t at all interested in finding a mirror to see what she meant. The fact that there was no hair brushing against the back of his neck told him all he needed to know.

All he needed to do was paint his hair white and he’d actually look like Kakashi’s brother.

“I-“ he stared at the pokemon in his hands, a smile breaking across his face as reality slowly settled in. Beside him his Venasaur leaned up and sniffed the tiny pokemon cautiously. “Really?”

“I would be a terrible mother if I gave you anything less.” Yua insisted, her words being immediately followed by the sound of the kitchen door swinging open. Turning his head, Tenzo held his present up a little higher when he saw Kakashi standing there staring at the two of them.

“Ah, i see,” Kakashi sighed. “Tenzo really is your favorite.”

Frowning at her son’s words, Yua made her way past Tenzo and only stopped when she was standing directly in front of Kakashi. “What makes you say that?” She asked, her back turned to Tenzo but the annoyance radiating off of her in such string waves that he couldn’t possibly miss it.

“He,” Kakashi jabbed a finger towards Tenzo. “Gets a snover. I,” he directed his finger towards himself, an action which was immidiatly rewarded with a sharp slap from his mother. “Get an electric spider.”

“Joltik.” She corrected him

“Electric spider.” there was an emphasis put on the word ‘spider’ that neither of them could miss. It was no secret to anyone who knew Kakashi that he hated spiders and not even the overwhelming cuteness of being an electric type would make him adore anything with more than six legs on it.

“Your father told me you like electric pokemon,” Yua defended herself. “He didn’t tell me to avoid spiders.”

Directing his gaze toward Tenzo, Kakashi shrugged his shoulder’s in a lazy gesture.

“Some mother,” he teased, wincing when Yua flicked him in the nose. “Admit it, Tenzo’s your favorite son.”

There was more arguing and teasing, but Tenzo didn’t hear any if it. Every word that followed Kakashi’s accusation fell into the background as Tenzo’s mind focused on that one, sweet word.

Son.

He glanced down at the Pokemon still sitting in his arms, it’s tiny legs hovering in the air as it stared up at him.

Hatake Tenzo

It sounded ridiculous in his mind, but Tenzo couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he had a family.

A home.

A mother who loved him, even if he wasn’t her biologically son.

“Thank you,” his whispered appreciation fell onto deaf ears, but Tenzo didn’t care. He’d thank Yua properly later. When they’d all calmed down and sat for breakfast.

When he was surrounded by the three people who had somehow become his family after a lifetime of feeling alone and isolated.

“And hello,” he spoke to the creature in his hands this time, smiling when it reached out toward him. “We’re going to be best friends, isn’t that right?”

“Snover!”

[kunikinnie]

a/n: an old trend but I wanted to do this for these three anyway HAHA I think culture plays a big part in this so I tried to reflect it... sort of

not saying I love you back as a prank

featuring: Fukuzawa, Mori, Fitzgerald x GN!Reader

Fukuzawa Yukichi

It's rare for him to say it so when he does, it's either in a serious or thoughtful mood. Usually you're huddled next to each other when he whispers it to you.

So when you only thank him in reply, he doesn't notice it at first until he finally sensed a disturbance in the force.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," you answer plainly. "Why?"

He stiffens a bit and you try your best to maintain your composure. You could literally hear the rapid grinding of the gears in his head.

"It's just you usually... hmm, what do you call it..."

The truth is, there was a time in the beginning of your relationship when he didn't return your I love you's (he's just awkward like that), and now that this is the first time you didn't return his (and frankly he didn't expect to be that affected by it), he wasn't sure how to convey these thoughts to you. Saying "I want to hear you say 'I love you too'" out loud was simply beyond his capabilities.

He doesn't continue and only tightens his embrace. All his anxieties suddenly rush to him - did he finally break the final straw somehow? Did he do something again? Or was this a sign that you just... you just didn't want to-

"I'm sorry," he finally says, although it was barely audible.

"Hmm? Why?"

"I'm sorry," he says once more. "For all my shortcomings, if I did something to hurt you... forgive me. I love you so much, Y/N."

Here's another fact of the day: you've pranked him several times in the past, and at each and every instance you always ended up feeling guilty - this one was no different. Why you never learned, no one would ever know.

"I-I love you too, Yukichi," you said as you gently pushed away his bangs to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "I should be the one apologzing. It was- I just wanted to see how you'd react- I'm so sorry I should have been more sensitive."

He stared at you blankly in confusion during the whole apology. Was this another prank of yours?

Once it all settled in his head, his body finally relaxed through a relieved and exasperated sigh. Thank God it was nothing serious, but still...

"Please don't do this again, Y/N. Please." What would he ever do with you?

Mori Ougai

He's not one to drop the L-word often either. It usually occurs during or after a period when you're physically separated.

This time, he called to check on how you're doing. Was your day alright? Did you need anything? Good. It seemed you were doing well.

"Alright then. Good night, I love you."

"Good night too."

You deliberately left the line on to see if he noticed, and to your surprise (or expectation) he did.

"...Good night, I. love. you," he repeated with emphasis on the last three words. His tone hardened, annoyance apparent.

"Yes, I heard you. Good night."

You had to pull the phone away from your face to avoid him hearing your stifled laughter.

"What do you think you're doing, Y/N?" His voice switched to his cold persona but you could still tell he was upset. "Do you think it's funny?"

"I'm not doing anything, darling. I promise it's just your imagination."

The line remains cold for a moment. You regretted not doing this in person now that you were left to only guess his facial expressions right then.

"Tell me, Y/N. My imagination tells me I should be worried about the future of our relationship."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic-"

"Really? I don't know if I am. I don't know what you're thinking if you don't tell me, Y/N."

"There's nothing to be worried about, I swear." You tried to reassure him - you had to. Things would go serious fast if he felt like it.

"Then say it."

At this point, there was no use in continuing this any further.

"I love you, Rintarou," you said as sweetly as possible. Hopefully he wasn't too offended by your little prank.

"Good." His usual cheer returned, thankfully. "Don't pull something like this again, okay, dear? It won't end well next time."

"I won't. Promise."

Francis Scott Fitzgerald

He says it before leaving for somewhere important. No, scratch that. He says it before leaving for anywhere. Period.

So you only saying "take care" registers quickly in his brain, preventing him from exiting the doorway entirely.

"I love you," he hollers again from the door, extending his back to make sure you heard him this time.

"Take care!" You say again with no change in tone.

He's suspicious but he's not exactly as worried as the previous two, being the most secure in terms of your relationship. Still, he walks back to where you were and repeats himself.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I know. You should go now or you'll be late-"

"I'm not leaving until this is matter is resolved," he says with an official yet melodramatic air. "This is very important."

You chuckle, pretending not to know what's going on. "What's important?"

"Your reciprocation of love, of course. You're more important than any sort of business - you know that."

You'd be lying if you didn't like hearing that from him. He was quite verbal (and even physical at times) with his affection, but it never hurts to be affirmed either way.

"So, what's bothering you? Tell me what you want - are you bored with the house? Is the new cook not up to your tastes? Feeling lonely recently? Something else?"

"It's nothing, really."

"Nothing?" He asks, shock completely taking over his features. "Nothing is bothering you, yet you won't even say 'I love you' back to your husband who works day and night just to provide you the life you want?"

A few moments of tense silence pass as his blue eyes stare into yours. You've had many of these spontaneous staring contests to know that the first one to break the silence or eye contact was the loser. Today, it was you.

"...do I have to?"

"I'm staying here until you say it, Y/N."

With a sigh of resignation, you finally give in. "I love you, Francis, so please go now."

"There we go. See you later, then."

tagging: @menshusband (this is what I was talking about lol) @stygianoir

[rtxler]

breathe

Summary: After a run-in with her ex she calls the last person she should have.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader, Rafe Cameron x OC (EX/implied)

Word count: 3.1k

in the same universe as mistake but both part of my JJ Maybank fic WHY NOT? on wattpad, which would mean a lot if you check out

-

Closing her bedroom door she lets out a tired sigh of release as she leans back against it slowly removing her shoes and kicking them to the side, then stumbles over to her en suite, removing her earrings with a groan and dumping them into a bowl, taking a minute to look at herself in the mirror her finger travelling and assessing over every line or crease visible with even after the meal she just had her thoughts keep bouncing back to a particular pogue specifically the night they had together. "Fuck, you need to get shit together," stalking back into her room towards her chest or draws, "and start working out again but one day at a time."

She changes out of her dress leaving her just in her underwear, reaching towards to draw but then jumping at the sound of a knock against her bay window. Groaning she throws on a silk nightie, "What the fuck, i swear Maddy if you forgot your jacket or something again," Quickly going over to the window to pull back the heavy curtain ready to fully go off on her best friend but stopping in her tracks as instead of seeing a girl with a shit eating grin she's greeted with literally the last person she wanted to see. Ever.

"Rafe? What the fuck."

Liliya stood shocked staring at her ex-boyfriend precariously crouching on the ledge outside her window.

"OPEN THE WINDOW" he mouths aggressively while pointing towards the lock.

She begins to slowly nod in understanding, "Oh okay.... NO. You perv, go away."

"Liliya i'm not joking i will stay here until let me in so unless you want to explain to your parents why a boy is climbing to your room," at that the blonde girl rolled her eyes at his muffled voice and turned away beginning to walk back to her bed, "or maybe even having to explain to your new friends why i was here all night." At that she stopped, looking back over her shoulder to be greeted with the smug smile of Rafe Cameron. "Yeah i know about that, god I've heard about girls lowering there standards after a break up but Jesus have some dignity."

As a flurry of annoyance casts through her body she storms back to aggressively open her window. "Are you stalking me?" Her question is momentarily ignored as the boy decides to quickly take the opening clambering into the girls bedroom.

"God your self obsessed i happened to be taking a walk and saw you with some peculiar company" Dusting himself as he met the unimpressed glare of his ex. "Well, that and you still have me on find your friends."

"Oh my god, your such a prick." She scoffs looking up to her ceiling in disbelief.

"Well that's why you loved me."

"Did i?"

"Yeah because just 'cuz you've got everyone else fooled that your this impenetrable force which nothing can break," he emphasis with a wide gesture ending his spiel with his hands on his hips. "you've got a tell."

"Really and what's that." She nods condescendingly walking forward with her head up.

He meets her in the middle till their faces were inches apart, making Liliya flinch inwardly while trying to maintain her outward facade.

Ducking down till his lips graze her ear "Your eyes," he voice rasps sending a shiver down her spine, "you can never hide your eyes." brushing his nose against hers. "especially from me." lifting a singular finger down her cheek.

At that Liliya snaps out of it grabbing his hand pushing it away dodging around him, creating a good couple of metres between them.

"Aw come on, what you didn't want to have a walk down memory lane babe?"

She trudges past him, shoulder checking him in the process, leaning against the open window scoffing. "Please with you Rafe its more of a sketchy dark alley. And do not call me that, i mean even when we were dating it was crossing a line, now please, get. The hell. Out."

"Okay, okay," raising his hands up in defense as he strolls over. " but ah nice to see nothing changed." looking across her room, as he's crouched half-way out the window, landing on her under wear hanging half out of her draw, earning him, unsurprisingly, a hard shove fully out the room, the window slamming shut and the blinds pulled behind him.

Liliya rests against the window closing her eyes as she releases a big sigh, wrapping her arms 'round herself, lightly hitting her head repeatedly against the glass. "God i'm so glad i dumped that piece of shit."

Pulling out her phone with shaky hands ready to message Maddy for support when she notices an unread text sent earlier from an unknown number.

'Im looking at u right now not having a clue Ive swiped your phone for a bit which is bit concerning u need to smarten up if you wanna catch a stalker.

J'

"God he has awful grammar." Liliya muses, but still not managing to move the small smile from her features.

She stands there for a couple minutes her fingers ghosting over the keyboard thinking through all the reasons was what she was thinking was a bad a idea, and that no matter what she wanted now she would be kicking herself in the morning. But even with those thoughts swimming around her head she still somehow typed out a response.

'You still wanna come in?'

Sucking in a breathe she waits impatiently as the response bubble pops up and down, and then back up again, Jesus this boy needs to make up his mind, until finally.

'what food do u have'

'oh my god' -----------

"Why the hell are you calling me, where are you?" The kook answers laying down on her bed, regretting all past life decisions leading to this exact moment where she was nervous about meeting a freaking pogue in her own home.

"Oh hi JJ, how are you doing? Oh thanks Liliya i'm doing great after climbing a TEN FOOT GATE!......... I'm outside by the way." An out of breathe voice echos around her room.

She sits up at that, pulling down her shirt as she re-adjusts herself. "Oh shit hi, just knock on the front door weirdo."

"What about your parents?"

"What about them? They don't bite." She pushes herself off the bed moving to her vanity table, placing her phone on a stack of books off on the side.

"Well they made you so i doubt that." He snarks back.

"Big words from the guy standing outside the house." And with that she hangs up as she checks out her reflection smoothing down her hair and re-applying lip gloss, reasoning that she has an image to maintain for everyone to see not just specifically the blonde boy currently at her doorstep.

She rushes down stairs then breaks into a calm walk to the front door preparing herself by giving her look a second glance over in the hallway mirror.

"You okay sweetheart?" Her dads voice breaking out of her panic.

"What?" She responds quickly facing her father's head that was sticking out of the kitchen. "Yeah just a friends coming to hang out for a bit."

"A friend? Maddy?" He start to lean on the doorway. "Am i going mad or wasn't she just here."

"No it's not Maddy."

"Sarah?"

"No."

"Then-"

"Just a new friend okay, he's hungry so we'll just snack for a bit." She spits wondering what the hell was taking JJ so long to walk from one end of a driveway to another.

"He?" Peaking her dads attention. "Wow, moving on from Cameron quick." He mutters as he heads back into the kitchen.

"Dad, no it's not like that." Liliya whines her fingers starting to rub circles on her temple.

"Oh i didn't mean it as a bad thing sweetheart, i mean i never liked that boy anyway y'know and you're young..."

Thankfully before David Woods could finish that sentence a knock from the front door saved Liliya death by embarrassment.

"Oh thank god." She jumps at the chance to exit her situation yanking the door open to meet the smiling face of JJ Maybank. "Where were you walking from Germany?" Yanking him through the door.

"Heads up." Were the only words JJ heard as he was pulled into the grand foyer before he was smacked by a packet of popcorn.

"Ow."

Liliya let out a short laugh at the shock on the boys face before facing her dad who was moving across to the teens. "Is mom around?"

"Oh sorry kid, Lily said you were hungry and nah don't worry it, you moms already deep into her desperate housewives binge, ugh y'know." throwing his hands up in fake exasperation.

"You really want to go watch it with her huh." She muses crossing her arms.

"Yeah, yes i do, so i'm just gonna grab this thank you" snatching the bag from the floor but halfway up the stairs he suddenly stops to turn around to face the two teens "Right um young lady, stay downstairs okay? But if not y'know door open and six feet apart at all times, okay." He says putting a stern face on before rushing back up stairs, leaving the pogue and the kook alone at last.

JJ kisses teeth a couple times. "Soooo food?"

"God, you're like a stray, come on this way". Walking past him to the entrance of the kitchen. "Do want anything or just gonna look around like a lost soul?" She says as she notices JJs gaze scanning his surroundings.

"Sorry just that your foyer is like my entire house and this kitchen, i mean are you housing an orphanage why is there so much?"

"Well as cute as this whole finding civilisation bit is i'm already bored so" She muses, starting to rummage through a couple cupboards

"You think i'm cute?"

"Pushing your luck stalker, okay here we go I've got sweet chilli peanuts, enough chips to choke an army and some ice cream in the freezer i think."

"Oooh yes please let me just get this," leaning over her shoulder to reach the aforementioned bags. "and definitely grab the ice cream."

"Are you actually starving, like should i be concerned?" she asks open the freezer door.

"No just i'm always hungry and," quickly pulling out a small bag from his back pocket with his free hand. "especially after i smoke."

"No charge?" Her face pokes ups as she leans on the freezer door back slightly arched causing the boy in front of her to swallow harshly.

"Aw for you baby? Never."

"And you ruined it." She slams the door shut swiftly grabbing a couple spoons and heading towards the exit. "Come on follow me, do not wonder." She remarks without even looking at him.

"Yes ma'am."

_____________

Heading into the Liliya Wood's bedroom was an extremely surreal moment for the pogue, for so many years this had been seen as untouchable but now he's following after her and her ice cream like a lost puppy, watching as she dumps the carton and spoons on her bed, along with taking the packets out of JJ's hands.

He takes that time to have a tiny glance around her room noticing first what he would of expected from the kook queen, a large King sized bed, a vanity mirror with lightbulbs surrounded that looked like they could blind both of them, a large walk in wardrobe and a pristine white tiled en-suite. But what also caught the blond boys attention was other little details the managed to slip through the cracks of her spotless facade, like the old stickers of Moshi monsters that were failed to be scraped off her bed frame or the stack of fantasy books piled precariously on the edge of her table.

"JJ?" Liliya questions from her seat against the broad fabric headboard.

"Yeah right let me just," throwing her the bag and lighter. "Ta da, for you madame."

"Why thank you kind sir, rolled and ready to go already eh."

"Well i aim to please." He smirks, adding a little wink.

"Hm okay big guy." She takes out a joint placing it haphazardly in between her lips as she fumbled for the cheap lighter. "Lets see how you do tonight."

"How i'll do?" He smirks watching Liliya strike the lighter in frustration. "Is this some kinda roleplay, 'cuz let me tell you from real experience i am a very bad student." Ending the sentence with a flourish as he pops open a packet of chips, not waiting a second to start piling them into his mouth.

"No? Really? Well colour me surprised." She mumbled finally getting a light. "Ah yes." As she took her first hit she let her posture go slack, sinking in to the mattress, flinching as the boy jumps next to her also reaching for the joint in her hand.

"Come on, unless you're keeping it all to yourself huh, miss greedy guts." Making her huff and reluctantly pass it over to him.

"Oh i'm sorry but you already looked so relaxed," Looking the pogue up and down, scanning his scruffy clothing. "almost too relaxed."

"Really, well if your sorry then i'm expecting some reparation" He suggests as he takes a breathe.

She takes the beat of silence to look over him, not like before with a forced critical eye to make a snarky remark, but with only the intent to see him.

"Hmmm well of course i'll share with you, what do take me for." Watching the shadows dance over his face, forcing the words out as a breathe gets caught in her throat.

"From what I've seen a perfect little kook angel." He repositions himself to get more comfy, while also subtly moving himself closer to her, looking up to her.

"Oh shut up, and just," she moves in one fast motion, placing her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself over him to land in a straddling position. "breathe." She doesn't know what came over her, a fog was covering her normal reasoning, only picking up on the boy, a very attractive one at that, in front of her.

Smoke slowly passes between their mouths, their eye-contact never breaking as even though they were only a couple inches or so away from each other, they moved slowly forward gravitating towards each other.

JJ couldn't take his eyes of the image in front of him, her hair cascading down framing the soft features of her face, the light reflecting off of it, creating a halo effect above her. Her plump lips remaining open when the smoke had passed, seeming only remain open to continue to entrance him.

"You are so beautiful." He didn't even realise he vocalised his thoughts till he watched the girl on top of him finally blink and break out of their shared trance.

"Um," Looking down it seems as she just noticed how they were positioned , extracting herself while making minimal contact with him beneath her.

"Why'd you invite me over?" He figures if the mood is already gone, he might as well get some answers.

"You practically begged me to, remember?" She scoffed, turning a complete 180 from her behaviour just a few moments ago.

"Yeah and you're Liliya Woods, iv'e seen you brutally turn down a guy in a wheelchair."

"And why wouldn't i treat him like everyone else?" Looking offended at the remark.

"Exactly, when i dropped you off it seemed like i was the last person you would let in your house and now, here we are." Staring at her, gesturing to the room around them, but only receiving a blank stare in return. "Come on, look what i got you." He gestures the joint currently sitting in her hand.

"Are you forgetting the mountain of my snacks sitting around us?"

"...Liliya."

"I got a surprise visit." She mutters, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself, carefully positioning the joint away from her clothes.

"Oh," He looks down awkwardly. "Like a monthly thing?"

At that comment she hits him firmly in the shoulder. "No you moron, Rafe."

"Ow," Cradling his arm but then admits with a quick nod. "Well that is much worse."

"Yeah." She scoffs. "He is."

Leaning closer to the girl, he tries to make eye contact as she stares off into space. "Are you okay?"

Sniffs, and sits up noticing how close the pair become again, cursing the fact she thought this was a good idea, trying to pull herself back into some idea of decency not understanding how he managed to get her guard down so easily. "Yeah just needed to calm down from seeing my ex with anger issues pop up in my window. like a delusional meerkat"

"Window? That window." Pointing to one across the room.

"Yes. Why are you smiling like that?."

"Well it's nice to know i'm not the only one resigned to climbing for an entrance."

"You chose to do that, literally just could've texted me to open the gate." She gasps in a state of exasperation.

Her face scrunches in frustration as she stares at him, he brushes his finger down her cheek, gently as if he was touching the most precious thing imaginable to him.

"What the hell are you doing." Although it was meant as a threat, with the light whisper it came out as, it could only been seen as a look of shock.

"You get a little crease in your brow when your worked up." Dropping his hand to her arm. "Did you know that."

"Shut up." She lifts his hand off, siting forward to wrap her arms around herself again.

"You say that a lot." He says trying to hide his disappointment.

"Yet you're still talking."

"Hmm, and will i ever stop? We may never know."

With the bubble they had created popped Liliya knew that the smart thing to do was to make sure that no lapse of judgement would occur. Again. "Well it's late so..."

"Yeah of course right." He sits up off the bed pulling his shirt from where it had ridden up. "Um next time you get some late night critter," pointing to the window with his head. "Just let me know

"And what would you do... what exactly." Rolling her eyes not believing the peacocking happening in front of her.

"Hey i'm like a 90% sure i could take him."

"Sure sweetie." She teased, watching him walk to the door.

"Get a good night sleep, you'll need it." He shouts over his shoulder.

"For what?"

"For when i pick you up tomorrow."

"Excuse me?"

"Hey don't get your panties in a twist, sounds like you don't wanna find some gold."

"Right, the gold and why do you want me to be there? I thought this was some sad little pogue fantasy." Nodding out the window as if were all beneath her.

"Two reasons, one 'cuz i want to see your reaction when your realise it's not a fairy tale." He grins opening the door to exit.

"Hey?" The pogues head pop round the door with a questioning look. "Whats number two?

"Well... i like.." He cuts off at that, seeming to catch himself while starting at the tussled hair girl, "I like.. watching stuck up kooks see the real world."