#and how that meaning allowed the shows to leave permanent marks on their hearts and on pop culture and animation history as a whole

[ronithesnail]

When i say art is less about the quality of the thing itself and more about the impact on its audience (a very cliche statement yes i know), i mean like an iconic tv show is less about the quality of the actual show and more about how feral it makes the fanbase

[shadowkoo]

The Ex Text

→ Summary: The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

↠ jungkook x f.reader | 3.2k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, pwp, ex with benefits, minor fluff & angst

→ Warnings: swearing, explicit sex, protected sex, scratching, breast play, spit/saliva play, infidelity (in the case that reader just started dating someone new), soft kissing, soft choking, rough kissing, ball squeezing, fingering, handjob, blowjob, cunnilingus, sloppy oral sex (female & male receiving), squirting, praising, teasing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, doggy, deep dicking, posessive!jungkook has a hard time dealing with his feelings

→ Author note: This is an update of a fic I posted in January that desperately needed some editing (anyone else ever read their old fics and cringe??), I hope you enjoy the newest version bc i personally believe it’s so much better! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

The pillow vibrates beneath your head as the notifications on your phone add up. Knowing it’s nowhere near time for you to get up, you roll over, choosing to ignore whatever, or rather, whoever is trying to reach you. Your plan works for another several minutes as you attempt to drift back to sleep, but your phone soon buzzes again, signaling another notification.

You groan and clumsily reach to turn the ringer off, but instead, your curiosity wins. After a couple of slow blinks, your eyes adjust to the blinding light and are able to focus on the screen; a couple of likes on your latest tweet, a new follower request for your insta, and three new texts from ‘The Ex’…

You groan again and check the time. 2 AM.

“Mmm, right on schedule, ‘Kook,” you drone sleepily to yourself, “Glad to see nothing’s changed.”

Invested now, and unfortunately awake, you unlock your phone to read the full texts.

2:03 AM

‘hey, u awake?’

2:07 AM

‘come over pls’

‘I’ll leave the door open’

Leaving the messages on read, you think about the two ways this could go.

One, you ignore him, just as you have been for the last month, and pretend like he means nothing to you.

Or two, you text him back, agree to come over, and wind up in a self-hate spiral the following days for allowing him to weasel back into your life.

A third groan leaves your body, realizing your heart is clouding your mind, having already made the decision. You type out your message and hover your thumb over the send button, before pressing firmly, unable to take it back.

2:11 AM

‘i hate you…i’ll be there in 5’

His response pops up just seconds later.

‘i’ll be waiting’

This routine is nothing new to you, as much as you hate to say it.

It’s not the first time since your break up that he’s asked you over. And it’s not the first time you’ve rushed to see him, to relive the good times spent between his sheets.

As promised, Jungkook left the door unlocked for you. His tall pup, Bam, meets you with a happy face and a wagging tail the second you crack the door open.

“Hi Bamy-Boo, I’ve missed you so much. How’s my good boy doing?” you ask after stepping into the quiet apartment, bending at the knees to give him a quick kiss on the head and some chin scratches.

“He’d be doing a lot better if you joined him in bed.”

Turning your head, your eyes land on Jungkook. He’s leaning against the wall outside his bedroom, with one of his hands combing through his tousled hair. And he’s wearing the beige-colored sweat set he knows drives you wild.

Damn him.

Your eyes wander to the waistband of his pants, where the faintest patch of skin shows through with his raised arm, before moving upward towards his face.

He’s grinning now.

“We need to stop doing this,” you sigh, not even attempting to deny that you were ogling him. He’s hot, you both know it. No point in sugar-coating or avoiding it. “You can’t keep texting me this time of night and expect me to come over.”

“You can leave any time you want, you know that,” he says taking a step closer to you, “Just like you know you don’t have to text me back. But you do.” He extends a hand, which you accept, and you stand up, letting him pull you up against his chest. “Because you want to come over. Because you know you want this.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste another second before placing his lips on yours. He’s warm and comforting, smelling of sage and citrus, just like always.

He pulls you away from the front door, which he locks, and leads you towards his room. Even in the dark, you remember the path to his bed, your body has it practically memorized.

“Come here,” he whispers softly while his fingers dance along the edge of your wrinkled pajama shirt, before lifting it over your shoulders.

You didn’t even bother changing out of your stained and slept-in pjs. Jungkook has seen you in far worse conditions. Plus you figured they wouldn’t remain on for very long, and much to your pleasure - you’re right.

Jungkook admires your breasts with his hands once your shirt is on the ground. “You’re gorgeous like this,” he whispers, cupping them and letting his thumbs rub across your nipples. Between his touch and the cool air, they harden almost immediately.

You lean into his body and your lips collide, meanwhile, his arms move around your body, crushing you against his chest.

He moans into your mouth, loving the way your fingers run through his messy hair. He doesn’t hide the fact that his cock twitches against his sweatpants when you tug lightly on his locks.

Jungkook could come in his pants just from simply kissing you and having you play with his hair, but he needs more. So much more.

He reaches for your pants, ready to remove them next. He’s desperate to undress you, to have your naked body pressed up against his. You’ve been ignoring his texts for too long lately. Even though he would never admit it, he’s missed you. A lot.

You help him take off the rest of your clothing until you’re bare before him, and Jungkook looks at you like he’s always looked at you. Like you’re the only person in the universe, you captivate his entire attention.

Nothing else matters when he’s with you.

He tears only his sweatshirt off before sitting down on the bed. Stretching back, he pats his lap with that same old smirk you’ve grown to love and hate simultaneously and motions for you to climb on top of him.

You do as he requests, resting each leg on either side of his hips so you’re straddling his waist.

“Come here,” he says quietly, pulling you closer to him, so he can leave wet kisses trailing down your neck from your earlobe to the dip above your collarbone.

His hands travel down your side as his lips move closer and closer to your breasts, his hot breath tickles your skin as he hovers over your sensitive nubs. He flicks each with his tongue, before closing his lips over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

The sensation pulls an explicit moan from deep within your core. Jungkook’s ears perk up, loving the sounds coming from you, wanting to hear you make sounds like that all night.

Your thighs tense around him as he does it again to the other side, and you massage the growing tent in his sweats to tease him just the right amount.

Jungkook digs his fingers into your hips, pushing your bare center up against his hardness as you continue your circling torture. It’s his turn to lose himself. Fuck, he can feel your heat through the thin fabric, your readiness soaking into his sweatpants. His hands curve around the swell of your ass as your tongues twist together in harmony.

Grabbing his face, you kiss him deeply while slowly moving off the top of him, your hand replacing where your opening was previously. You moan into his mouth this time, feeling how hard he is for you as you rub him through his pants.

Your hand dips underneath the waistband and wraps around his velvety length. His length throbs in your hand while your thumb glides over his needy head. You’re stroking him slowly enough to drive him into a maddening frenzy.

“Fuck baby, I need more,” he rasps.

You give him exactly what he begs for.

He cries out when your hand dips lower to squeeze his balls without warning. You smirk, watching the emotions overtake his face as the pain mixes deliciously with pleasure while you hold him tightly in your hands. You wait a few seconds before releasing them and then work to take off his pants.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, catching his breath from your dangerous game. “What was that for?”

You take a mouthful of him to avoid answering. He doesn’t press the issue further as you gag over his thick cock.

Jungkook grabs a fistful of your hair as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. He helplessly watches as your reddened lips glide over him, your saliva dripping everywhere in the process.

“Mmm, just like that,” he hums, caressing your cheek as you bob your head up and down.

Pulling yourself from him to catch your breath, your mouth then leaves wandering kisses that lead you to his balls next. Sucking each into your hollowed cheeks, you take your sweet time and watch intently as Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow together.

“Shit baby, I’m about to lose it,” he breathes deeply, before moving your bodies so you’re below him.

You smirk, your legs open and ready with your fingers teasing your wet and inviting opening. “Then lose it.”

He groans. Leaning across your body, Jungkook opens the drawer on his nightstand and rummages through until his fingers land on the very familiar foil packet. He smirks for a moment at the thought floating around in his head, and then lets the male urge win and rips it open with his teeth.

“You did not just do that,” you laugh, “That’s so cheesy. What are you, a horny teenager?”

He grins wolfishly as he rolls the condom on, “Might as well be.”

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room, engulfing Jungkook, and making him ravenous for you. He’s starved and only your heat will tame his hunger.

Unable to wait any longer, his thick length dips inside you just enough to wet his tip. He pulls back out of you, sliding your wetness through your folds, preparing you for what is to come. Then, without a moment’s notice, he takes you hard and fast, thrusting into you with all his power.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red trails from where they slide down his back and grip his ass.

The veins in Jungkook’s neck pop out as he slams into you again and again.

“Holy fuck, ‘Kook! Oh my god,” you cry out, holding onto him.

He looks so fucking hot with his hair stuck to his damp forehead. Your eyes follow the bead of sweat dripping down his temple.

Jungkook’s soft moans tickle your ear, while one of his hands creeps up to wrap around your neck. The pressure is gentle but firm, his fingers are placed exactly where they need to be to make you feel lightheaded and slightly delirious - everything you want and more.

“Do you still love me?” he pants as he thrusts into you harshly.

You blink, hesitating to answer that question.

“Fine, then answer me this, do you still love my cock?”

“Jungkook…” you sigh, tilting your head to the side. “Please don’t go there.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear you. “Tell me you’ve never had better,” he demands after flipping you over. Pulling your ass up towards him, he realigns his length with your center and thrusts back into you. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other gets lost in your hair.

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me and my cock,” he growls into your ear as he slips out of you, only to ram back into you with all his strength.

Each thrust pushes you further into the bed and brings you closer to the edge. You’re biting the sheets to stop yourself from screaming out from the sinful pleasure.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” You moan uncontrollably while Jungkook continues his sweet torture. Lust, and possibly another L emotion, dripping off the words spilling from your mouth.

You couldn’t lie if you tried at this point. You’ve really missed this and him. And holy fuck, his cock too. “Oh my god, oh god!” you cry out. Waves of euphoria wash over your quivering body as you unfold around him.

The coil snaps deep inside you, your walls pulsating around him, sending shockwaves through his body as he finishes.

Jungkook moans your name one last time before feeling himself swell, and he fills the condom with his load. His thrusts slow down but don’t stop just yet.

It’s almost too much to handle, yet it’s still not enough. Jungkook knows this and reaches down to rub his thumb along your swollen clit, causing you to see starts as your next release comes, it sprays out of you involuntarily.

You freeze, not sure if you should embrace it or be embarrassed.

He grins, “That was fucking hot. I’ve never made anyone squirt before.” You feel a sense of pride hearing that. Good. You don’t want him to have it like this with anyone else. Woah, where did that thought come from?

Without missing a beat, Jungkook lifts your legs over his shoulders as he bends down so he’s face level with your heat. He admires your slit that’s still slick from his undoing. You moan uncontrollably the second he licks through your damp folds, lost on cloud nine while he buries his face in between your legs, hands on either side of them, holding you in place.

You’re writhing beneath him from the glorious torture of his tongue teasing your entrance, his nose purposefully rubs against your sensitive nub and two of his long fingers slide into you, curling at the right pace.

His rhythmic licks turn you into a quivering mess. Your insides twist and clench around his fingers as you come again, unashamed and all over his face this time.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he pants, moving back up toward the top of the bed and collapsing next to you, totally spent.

You kiss him messily, tasting yourself on his lips, and cuddle into his side as you both drift off into the night, sweaty and exhausted, just how it should be.

It’s early. You’re not sure how long you’ve both been in and out of sleep, but you know it’s almost time for you to leave. This is the longest you’ve spent in his bed since your break up. All the other late-night extravaganzas we’re just a couple of hours, if that.

You’re laying on his chest, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat and your synced breathing, working up the energy to sit up. His fingers draw small circles on your back as you two rest. It’s surprisingly…peaceful. These are the moments you miss the most when you’re apart.

“I have a thing with the guys around tomorrow, well technically today. Want to come?” Jungkook asks out of the blue, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Can’t,” you decline, worried about where this conversation is about to go.

“And why is that, exactly?” he asks, even though he very well knows. You know he knows. He knows that you know that he knows. Which is frustrating, to say the least.

The previous peace you felt is short-lived. You sit up and lean on your elbow to look at him. “You know I’m going out with Taehyung now. You liked my Instagram pic of us together from earlier this week.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that if you’re here with me, that must mean he’s either very boring or is terrible in bed. Or maybe both?” He leaves the question open-ended for you to answer.

You roll your eyes and start to get up, not in the mood to discuss this with him tonight, or ever really.

You don’t need to explain to him that Taehyung deserves so much more than someone who’s willing to cheat on him, and with an ex-boyfriend at that. You two haven’t exactly made things official but it’s still unbelievably inconsiderate of you to waste his time while you pine after Jungkook, a guy who dumped you four months ago but still refuses to give you up.

“No, don’t go,” he groans. “What I’m trying to say is-” he pauses, fighting whatever is going on in his brain. “I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” he says bluntly.

“Why?” You press, begging for any sort of answer.

“‘Cause…,” he says, holding back.

“Because why Jungkook, I need you to say more than that. I need you to be more, we can’t keep going on like this.”

“Because I love you, dammit!” He runs a hand through his hair and huffs. “Can’t you tell? Isn’t it obvious? I’m still hung up on you and don’t like seeing you moving on when I’m, I’m…stuck,” he breathes.

He loves you.

A moment passes.

He. Loves. You.

“Please say something. Anything.” He’s nervously searching your face for any sort of answer.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you’re still hung up on me,” he whines, pulling you back onto his chest.

Your voice softens, “You know that I am.”

He kisses you gently, making your heart flutter with the possibility.

“Then what’s stopping us?” He asks once your lips part from one another.

It’s your turn to huff, you have so much to say yet it’s all lost on you at this exact moment. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

“You’re the one who ended things.”

The streetlight shines in through his window, its light illuminating your body, highlighting your beautiful features that he just can’t get enough of. Why did he end things again?

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot. What’s new?” he jokes, crawling over top of you, completely mesmerized by how gorgeous you are beneath him. He kisses you sweetly, his lips massaging yours as his heart pounds loudly in his chest. You didn’t say no. To Jungkook, that means there’s still a chance, and he’ll gladly take it.

One of his hands holds the back of your neck, tilting your head just the right amount for him to deepen the kiss. He moans into your mouth, his tongue playing with yours while his other hand finds its way between your legs.

A soft gasp escapes your lips when his fingers dip inside you. They twist and curl with perfect accuracy, bringing you closer and closer to bliss.

He has you practically begging for more, you’re already a panting mess. You reach for him, craving more, needing him closer but he refuses.

“Nope,” he grins playfully, pushing your chest gently so you lay back onto the bed, “I want to watch you come undone this time. I want to see you lose it when you come for me.”

Your back arches off the bed as you dance along the edge, squeezing your eyes shut you let his words do their magic.

“Be a good girl and come all over these fingers.” Your hips move helplessly, matching his speed as you chase the high.

“You’re luminous, absolutely divine, and all mine. Nobody can worship you as I do. Nobody else can make you feel this good.”

“No one compares to you,” you moan sensually as pleasure overtakes your body yet again, turning you into the mess he wants to see.

Your lips touch again after what feels like an eternity. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, leaving another lazy kiss on your cheek, before moving to clean up the aftermath of your pleasures.

“Me too,” you say sleepily, pulling him back into your arms after he disposed of the condom. You feel yourself drifting off, about to fall into a soft slumber with your bodies entwined.

Jungkook grins, knowing he’s one step closer to convincing you to try again. He kisses you softly, lovingly, one more time before you both drift off into the early morning light.

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[abbatoirablaze]

Surrogate Luna, Chapter 7

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings:  medical situations, major angst, mentions of being poisoned.

The seasons seemed to change just as quickly as Sharon disappeared with Brock and a trusted few of her own from her pack, leaving Steve and Cinna to their own happiness. 

While the pack was excited about Steve’s incoming pup, they were also on edge, constantly training in case Sharon came back looking for war. 

But Steve hadn’t expected her to come back so late into Cinna’s pregnancy.  Nearly two months had passed before she arrived again, boastful with her new sweetened scent and the assurance that she was with Brock’s pup as well. 

Steve didn’t care though.

He chose instead to ignore Sharon, and dote on Cinna and his pup, moving into Cinna’s quarters permanently. 

And in the mean time, Cinna had gotten along famously with the pack, fulfilling the duties of the alpha’s mate that Sharon had long ignored with Wanda, Maria, and Sarah always accompanying her. 

But Cinna knew that as part of the program, the good times always end.  Every night that Steve spent beside her meant one less night with the pack that she was growing so fond of.  So, it shocked Steve to his core when she seemed sad the day that their pup started kicking.

“Why are you not happy, luna?” Steve asked with a frown as his hand still rested on Cinna’s growing stomach, “are pup is happy and healthy, bouncing every day as he grows.”

“Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve felt a knot in his stomach with the way she spoke, “What’s wrong, Cinna?  Is something wrong with our pup?  Are you-“

“I’m scared,” she said quickly, cutting him off, “I’m scared, Steve!”

Steve gave a heavy sigh. 

Part of him let like that was in part to Sharon. 

While she too had begun to grow, her stomach swelling more by the day as well, she had been just as threatening and intimidating to Cinna as the day that she’d been brought back to the packhouse.

“Nothing will happen with Sharon,” he tried to reassure her.  He leaned forward and rubbed his nose against her own, “none of her or her pac-“

“I don’t want to leave!”

Steve stopped speaking.

“Leave?” he asked, “What on earth are you talking about?  You’re not leaving.”

“I-I know that when I birth our pup…your pup…my contract is up,” she said quickly, giving him another sad look, “I don’t wan-“

“You’re not leaving me, omega,” Steve growled, feeling overwhelmed and territorial of his omega, “Cinna…I marked you.  I love you.  You are my Luna.  My true mate.  You are not going back to the program.  Ever!”

Her eyes met his, the shock making Steve’s heart break as he thought about how this must have been weighing on her mind so much that she was surprised to hear his declaration of devotion. 

“What?”

“Omega…I-I thought you knew it from the day that I brought you to the den,” he said quickly as he stroked her cheek, “the day I caught your scent in the facility…I made them promise you to me.  I had my pack lawyers go and break your contract.  You allowing me to mark you was the requirement, as it showed that I truly wanted to keep you for more than just creating pups.  Once I dissolve my relationship with Sharon…somehow…I want to have a true mating ceremony.  I-I want you to mark me as well omega.  You’re my omega…and I am your alpha.  You are my Luna.  My everything!”

“Really?”

Steve leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to hers, “yes, omega…really…”

She breathed a sigh of relief after studying Steve’s eyes for a moment, “I-I love you Steve!”

“And I love you, Cinna,” Steve replied sweetly, his hands still on her stomach, “and our pup…the first of many if I have my way!”

“I think you’ll always have your way, Steve!”

Steve rumbled loudly, a smirk growing on his face, “I think I like the sound of that, omega!”

“WE ARE ALMOST AT THE END OF OUR JOURNEY!” Steve claimed, his glass held high as he looked next to himself where Cinna was round with his child, “EIGHT MONTHS MY OMEGA HAS BEEN PREPARING FOR OUR PUP.  HELPING BREATHE LIFE INTO HIM.  HELPING HIM GROW IN THE SAFETY AND SECURITY OF OUR PACK!  AND I WANTED TO CELEBRATE WITH ALL OF YOU.  MY LOYAL PACK MATES.  WE HAVE CHOSEN TO NAME HIM STEVEN, THE SECOND OF HIS NAME, AFTER MYSELF!”

The pack roared with excitement at Steve’s toast. 

“More, luna?” one of the girls offered, holding the pitcher away from herself, extending it in offerance to the woman.

“Yes please?” Cinna smiled politely, before turning her attention back to Steve.  

“AND TO SHARON AND HER PACK,” Steve continued, trying to extend an olive branch to the woman he was still promised to, “FOR SHE AND BROCK HAVE CONCEIVED A PUP AS WELL.  AND FROM WHAT I AM TOLD, HE WILL BE A STRONG PUP TOO!  BOTH PACKS HAVE BEEN SECURED WITH HEIRS!”

Sharon’s pack cheered this time. 

“Let our packs be kind in peace, and share our borders as they have for years,” Steve offered, “to Packs Rogers and Carter!”

“ROGERS AND CARTER!”

Everyone took a sip from their glasses, with both Sharon and Cinna partaking in a non-alcoholic version. 

But the reaction was instantaneous within Steve. Across his own bond he could feel that something was wrong with Cinna. 

Worriedly, he looked over to her, and saw it in her eyes. 

“HEALER!” Steve yelled, calling for someone to help his omega as she dropped her cup and fell to the floor, “HEALER!”

“We can’t wait!”

“I need to-“

“Alpha, you can’t come any further!” one of the doctors said quickly as they tried to push the aggressive alpha away from the gurney which they’d been rushing to the operating room, “we just need to know your wishes!”

“Wishes?”

“If it comes down to it,” the doctor said nervously, not wanting to say what Steve had already been thinking, “if it comes to your pup or your omega-“

“My omega!” he said quickly, “I-I can’t lose Cinna!”

“We’ll do our best, alpha!”

Words couldn’t describe how Steve had felt. 

How he was reacting. 

“Well?”

“She was poisioned,” Maria admitted, not daring to look her alpha in the eye, “her glass-“

“WHO DID IT!” he roared.

“We don’t know…” Wanda admitted even more nervously, “there wasn’t any way to trace it.  The person refilling cups was knocked out.  N-none of us were paying attention.”

“THAT IS MY MATE!” he screamed, pointing in the direction of the operating room, “BECAUSE NONE OF YOU WERE PAYING ATTENTION, SHE MIGHT DIE!  MY PUP MIGHT DIE!  I HAD-“

“Steve…” Sam tried, cutting off the alpha.  He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

But Steve shook his head at him, the tears streaking down his cheeks, “before she went in, the doctor asked me who I would save if I could only save one of them…I want whoever did this in the dungeon before the full moon!”

“Steve…that’s in two days!”

“Be happy I’m giving you that time…” he growled, shooting daggers at Maria, Sam, Sarah, and Wanda, “if she dies…if my pup dies…I don’t know what I’ll do!”

Cinna’s eyes opened, and everything was blurry.

Everything ached. 

It felt like she’d been hit by a truck, and her body parts had been thrown back in and her body sewn shut without any order.

“CINNA!”

Instantly Cinna was overwhelmed by the anxiety lacing Steve’s scent. 

She could hardly see him because everything was too bright and blurry, but she knew him by his scent.  She went to lift a hand, but Steve grabbed hold of her. 

“Wh-what happened?” she asked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the hospital room, “Wh-where am I?”

“The pack hospital!” he answered quickly. 

It was then that Cinna noticed the tears in Steve’s eyes, and her mind went to the worst possible scenario.  She looked down at her stomach and noticed that it was smaller.  Her own eyes went wide, “o-our pup!  Steve where is-“

A crying interrupted her question. 

Her eyes watered, and tears started to fall down her cheeks as she caught the whines of her pup.  Steve rushed away from her to scoop the newborn up, before bringing him right back, “he-he’s fine, omega.  Our baby boy is fine.  He came into the world fighting…”

“Stevie!” Cinna whimpered, reaching out to take her pup. 

The newborn’s eyes opened, and her heart melted; the bond between mother and son instant.  Stevie stopped crying and looked at his mother curiously with eyes that mirrored his fathers.

“I-I was worried about you!” Steve admitted, “they-they got him out before the poison affected him…but you-“

“He’s okay!” she cooed, her eyes unwavering from her little boy as she cradled him against her breast, “Steve…he-he’s okay.  Stevie’s okay!  Our pup is alright and that’s all that matters.  He’s here!  And he’s perfect!”

“I’m going to kill whoever did this to you, omega!” Steve promised as he reached out to her, “I-I want you to know that!”

“I’m just glad that Stevie’s okay…” she sobbed, kissing the top of her son’s head.   With her free hand, she reached out and took Steve’s hand in her own, “Steve…I-I want to do the ceremony…if someone’s willing to try and kill us…I-I don’t want to hide behind excuses of why we can’t…I-I don’t care what Sharon’s pack thinks…we need to do what’s best for our pack!”

Steve felt a sense of pride filling his chest as he listened to her words.  He lifted her hand up and kissed it, “whatever you want, Luna…”

Chapter 8

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @mrsevans90

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 33!

“Are you sure you wanna go through with this, Scotty?” Stiles whispered in a questioning tone as the wolf pushed open the front door to a dingy little tattoo parlour downtown. The neon sign in the window was the main source of light in the dark alleyway.

“I don’t think his answer has changed from the other three times you asked him on the drive over here,” Zaida pointed out with a roll of her eyes as she followed closely behind Scott. She was starting to get good at handling her feelings around Stiles now, even though it did nothing to calm the way her heart raced or how her cheeks flushed whenever he brushed past her. There was nothing much else she could do about that though, save for waiting for her affections to pass. As the werewolf spoke to the man at the front counter, her eyes roved over the stencils on display on the walls, catching on some beautiful fine-line floral designs.

“Why are you even here?” Stiles shot back at her. She’d sort of showed up at Stiles’ house and invited herself as an excuse to avoid going with Allison and Lydia tonight. It was the Argents’ first day back in Beacon Hills and Zaida was not looking forward to the awkwardness between her and Allison resuming right where they left off.

“My other option was to go with the girls to a ‘hang-out’ Lydia organised that she claims was definitely not a triple date. Though she’s kind of right. It’s not a date so much as a hook-up.” Zaida shrugged and Stiles let out a choked sound. “Needless to say, I’m not interested.”

“Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture…” The burly tattoo artist looked down at the scrawled visualisation Scott handed him as he sat in the chair with Stiles and Zaida standing around him. It was a scribbled sketch of two lines of varying thickness - not exactly the most informative design.

“Hey, Scott! You sure you don't want something like this?” Stiles snickered and held up a sample folder, which opened to a page with a black ink creature that looked eerily akin to the Kanima. Scott stared at his friend with a raised brow. “...Too soon? Yeah…”

As the tattoo artist prepared his ink and sterilised his tools, Stiles grimaced once more. “I don't know, man. Are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?”

“I'm not changing my mind.” Scott insisted, evidently excited about it.

“Okay, but why two bands?” The boy asked his friend, not quite understanding the purpose of something so seemingly unimportant.

“I just like it.” Scott shrugged, and honestly, that reasoning checked out for him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to think too deeply about anything and it was something Zaida had grown fond of.

“But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning?” Stiles tried to make sense of it. “You know, or something?”

“Getting a tattoo means something.” The werewolf pointed out eagerly.

“I don't think that's-” Stiles began sceptically, but the tattoo artist nodded in support of Scott and scooted his wheely chair closer, preparing to start.

“He's right. Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word ‘tatua’ means "to leave a mark," like a rite of passage.” The man explained.

“Yeah, see? He gets it!” Scott nodded enthusiastically.

He's covered in tattoos, Scott-” Stiles scoffed, eyeing the man’s inked skin stretching down both of his arms in completed sleeves. “Literally.”

“God, I wish Xander was as cool as Melissa,” Zaida shook her head, watching on longingly as the artist hovered the needle over Scott’s left bicep. Scott’s Mom had signed the permission slip for Scott to get his tattoo, and she’d even allowed him to buy a motorcycle with the money he’d saved up from working at Deaton’s.

“Okay, you ready?” The man double-checked. “You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?”

“Nope!” Scott answered excitedly, raring to go, and the tattoo gun hummed to life.

“I tend to get a little squeamish, though, so…” Stiles said weakly, scratching his face as he peered at the needle puncturing Scott’s skin again and again at rapid speed. Within seconds, Stiles was on the floor with a loud thud, and Zaida’s head snapped towards where the boy had only just been standing.

“Oh God, what do we do?” She asked in concern, rushing to his side to check him for any injuries, but he seemed fine.

“Just leave him there. Carlos will get him.” The tattoo artist answered her casually, not so much as batting an eyelid.

Surely enough, a younger guy who looked to be in his early twenties came over from one of the back rooms, nodding to her before pulling Stiles’ limp form up and half-carrying, half-dragging him over to a small couch by the front window, just a few feet away from where Scott was being tattooed. “It happens more often than you’d think. He’ll be awake in no time.” He smirked at her, looking her up and down with grey eyes. His tousled black hair brushed the top of his eyes. “See?” He added when Stiles shifted and groaned, starting to come back into the land of consciousness.

“You look a bit young to be a tattoo artist,” She struck up a conversation with the guy, noting the lack of ink on his body. He had a few small, tasteful tattoos along his forearms and a tooth hanging from one ear, but that was all.

“I’m still an apprentice.” The boy - Carlos - gave her a lazy half-shrug. “I noticed you looking at my sample book when you came in. My work is at a discounted price, but for a pretty girl like you…I could hook you up with something on the house, if you want?”

“You do fine-line?” She raised a brow, her curiosity piqued. He must have thought she was of age, and she wasn’t about to correct him if she could get a free tattoo out of it. She’d always wanted one. “I’ve heard it’s a difficult style.”

“Yeah, it is. But I’m great with my hands,” He winked at her and Stiles scowled at him as he clutched the top of the couch to haul himself into a seated position.

“Hey, buddy? She’s sixteen.” Stiles warned threateningly and Carlos’ grin dropped from his face. “Oh, and did I mention, my dad’s the Sheriff?”

The boy immediately left without so much as another glance in her direction, and Zaida glared at Stiles, crossing her arms over her chest. “You just cost me a free tattoo.”

“Yeah, and I just saved him from a court case.” He snorted and pulled himself to his wobbly feet.

“You’re as pale as a sheet, Stilinski. Sit back down.” She rolled her eyes and pushed his shoulder, forcing him back onto the couch as she sank into the seat beside him. “I can’t believe you actually fainted.”

“And I can’t believe you were actually letting that guy flirt with you to get a free tattoo. Seriously, his lines were awful. ‘I’m great with my hands’? What was that? That’s disgusting.” Stiles gagged. “You know as the oldest of this particular trio it’s my responsibility to make sure you two make good decisions, and neither of you is making it easy for me!” He called out purposefully so that Scott would hear him, turning to look back at the boy who was still under the needle and immediately regretting it when he felt queasy again.

“We’re all the same age, you bozo.” She shook her head, not counting the months that were undoubtedly between their birthdays.

“Nope, think again little-Xander,” He smirked. “I’m seventeen.”

“Little-Xander?” She repeated the nickname with an upturned nose. “Also, since when? I could have sworn you were sixteen.”

“Yeah, you’re exactly like him. You’re both stubborn smart-asses with a mean right hook and a temper. And I was sixteen. Until I turned seventeen.” Stiles shot back with infuriating smugness and she narrowed her eyes at him, forcing him to yield. “Okay fine, my birthday was April eighth.”

“Shut up, there's no way!” Her jaw dropped open in surprise, but she could tell he wasn’t lying. “But that was ages ago! Why didn’t you tell me? Did you guys do something for your birthday without me?”

“No, we…uh, we didn't do anything for my birthday.” His playful mood died down and she could tell she’d struck a nerve. April eighth, why did that date ring a bell?

“Oh,” She realised. That was why. It was the night of the Lacrosse grand final, when he’d been kidnapped and beaten by Gerard Argent, and she’d been worried out of her mind.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded somberly, knowing she’d figured it out. Thankfully, the morose atmosphere was cleared when Stiles picked up a sample folder and pointed out a fine-line tattoo design of a long-stemmed rose. “That would look nice on you.”

“I thought you didn’t like tattoos?” She asked him with a raised brow.

“Doesn’t matter what I like, it’s your body and you like them.” He shrugged genuinely and her heart warmed at his sentiments. “Plus, you could make anything look pretty.”

Zaida suddenly regretted her choice of hairstyle for today as she found herself unable to hide her blush behind her hair as she usually did. Instead, she fanned herself, pretending it was due to the temperature of the shop. “Phew, is it hot in here?”

“Nope, just you.” Stiles winked and she knew it was a joke, but her heart stopped.

“Oh, man…” Scott groaned from the passenger seat of the Jeep, pulling up his shirt sleeve to inspect the bandaged tattoo.

“You okay?” Stiles asked him, eyes flickering off the road for only a second before he refocused.

“Kinda burns…” Scott winced, gripping his bicep tightly.

“Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about one hundred thousand times with a needle…” Stiles’ words were dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this.” Scott reasoned and groaned in pain. “No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this! Oh, I gotta take this thing off!”

“No, no, no, no, Scott!” Stiles pleaded with a horrified expression as his best friend tore the bandage off to reveal his fresh wound. Zaida, on the other hand, peered over the seat for a better look. “Oh, Scott, please stop!”

“Oh, no! What? No, no, come on!” Scott sighed in disappointment as the ink faded away back to his normal tanned skin tone. “It healed.”

“Aw, thank God. I hated it.” Stiles wrinkled his nose and blurted out in relief. Scott frowned at him. “...Sorry.”

“What happened to ‘it’s your body’?” Zaida snorted and the boy ignored her jab.

“I can’t believe summer break is already over.” He changed the subject instead.

“Tell me about it, I was grounded for the whole thing.” Zaida huffed. “I am absolutely dreading school tomorrow.”

“Hey, at least Allison will be back.” Stiles nudged Scott with his elbow, trying to cheer up the boy who was now moping about wasting his money on a tattoo that lasted like ten minutes.

“That’s if she’s even gonna show up,” Scott mumbled back, not having heard Zaida and Stiles’ conversation at the shop earlier.

“You haven’t spoken to her at all?” Zaida questioned. She’d have thought they’d at least have messaged each other a few times, but Scott had clearly not talked with the girl, otherwise, he’d know she was returning to Beacon Hills High.

“Nah, we agreed to give each other the summer - no texts, no calls,” Scott explained. “And after everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all…”

“I think she is,” Stiles said as they pulled up at a red light beside a much smaller car. The road was completely empty at this time of night. The boy turned his attention to that black car next to them. “I'd say it's pretty definite, you know...Like, one-hundred-percent…”

Zaida instantly recognised it, and though Scott might not have noticed whose car it was, he certainly recognised the two girls inside of it. “What are the chances?” She shook her head with a snort.

“Oh, my God! Oh-” The werewolf panicked, his dark eyes going wide as he sank in his seat. “Can we just drive, please? Stiles?”

“Scott, it's a red light!” Stiles exclaimed in exasperation.

“It’s not like that’s stopped you before,” Zaida reached over the seat to lightly slap the boy’s shoulder. “Come on, have a bit of mercy for your best friend.”

“I think we should talk to her. I just think we should say something.” Stiles leaned over Scott to roll down his window as the werewolf began to lose his shit.

“No! No, no, Stiles! Come on! Oh, my God, dude, no!” The wolf floundered, but Stiles ignored him and plastered a broad smile onto his face.

“Hey!” He called out but the black Beetle beside them simply sped off in response, straight through the red light. Stiles pulled back from Scott’s window with a casual shrug. “...You know, they probably didn't see us.”

“I think they saw you, Stiles.” Zaida scoffed and shook her head. “Hence the dramatic exit.”

“What are you doing?” Scott freaked out as the light turned green and Stiles resumed along the same road, pulling up behind the girls’ car.

“I'm driving...?” His brows furrowed, not quite getting what Scott didn’t understand about that.

“We're right behind them.” The wolf whined, gesturing at the black Beetle in front of them.

“Okay, well, do you see any turns?” The boy pointed out with a huff.

“I don't want it to look like we're following them…” Scott explained his thought process.

“It’s not like we have a whole lot of options right now, Scotty boy. It’s either we keep going like any normal person would, or we just break in the middle of the road like crazy people and wait for them to get far enough ahead before continuing.” Zaida rose to Stiles’ defence.

“Is that what you want me to do? I can stop.” The boy offered and Scott looked at them both with his mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish, not being able to decide which option was better right now. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don't know - anything?” Scott exclaimed in frustration and Stiles slammed on the brakes, throwing Zaida forwards so her rib cage went barrelling into the seat she was currently leaning over, effectively knocking the air flat out of her lungs.

“So you chose the crazy people option?” She wheezed out through laboured breathing, clutching her chest as it ached.

“Wait, they just stopped too.” Scott peered through the darkness, and he was right. The black Beetle had come to a pretty sudden stop too.

A sudden wave of sickening anxiety washed over Zaida, and she held up her hand for both of the boys to see how violently her body was shaking. “Something’s wrong.”

Stiles immediately flipped the gear shift into park and threw his door open, pulling his seat forward for her to clamber out of the back. He offered her his hand to help her jump down, and she accepted it, too busy worrying about Allison and Lydia to allow herself to blush at his touch as she now usually would. A loud smashing of glass echoed through the silence, snapping all three of their heads towards the Beetle. None of them wasted time, sprinting over as both girls got out of the car.

“Are you okay?” Scott got there first, and Stiles was next, going straight to Lydia.

“It came out of nowhere!” The redhead cried out and Zaida averted her eyes as Stiles checked her over for any injuries. She turned her head instead towards the windshield where the largest buck she’d ever seen had apparently crashed straight through the centre of the windshield - its neck lacerated by broken glass and its pelt soaked in blood.

“It ran right into us!” The redhead reported in a shaky voice.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked Allison tenderly, and the taller girl nodded her head.

“Well, I'm not okay! I am totally freaking out!” Lydia interrupted hysterically. “How the hell does it just run into us? I saw its eyes right before it hit us, and it was like it...It was like it was crazy.”

“Animals don’t just commit suicide,” Zaida murmured, walking around the bonnet with the shattered windshield crunching beneath her shoes. She reached out for the buck, her fingertips just barely grazing its fur before Stiles lunged forward and pulled her away.

“Careful, there’s glass everywhere.” He said with concern etched into his furrowed brows.

“It was scared,” Scott corrected Lydia’s assessment of the creature.

“...Actually, terrified.” Zaida agreed, holding up her still-shaking hand to the moonlight. She and Stiles exchanged worried glances. Her mother had warned them something was coming to Beacon Hills. Maybe it would arrive sooner than they’d thought.

[universitypenguin]

Bucky Barnes is a Traditional Man

- Bucky Barnes is a traditional man in the sense that his woman comes first.

- You have more doors held open for you than you could have imagined before you began dating Bucky.

- Door to buildings, your car door (always!), he even moves one step ahead of you when you walk down the stairs in heels so he could break your fall, just in case.

- James Buchanan Barnes is quite protective of his girlfriend.

- He’s in love with you and it finally allows some of the deeper wounds from Hydra, from the war, and losing Steve to heal.

- His heart was cold and aching before he met you. Now it’s warm and soft.

- Your perspective on the world is something that attracted him to you in the first place. You’re an optimist in a jaded world and vibrant with life in a way he’s not sure he’s even capable of.

- But somehow, being with you helps bridge the gap. He can look in the mirror and not see the Winter Soldier looking back at him. Instead he sees the man from the 1940s who loved to dance and who hoped to win a boxing title.

- You gave him that man back with your care and affection, even before the two of you fell in love. And he feels such a gratitude for that his heart throbs and his eyes glass over when he thinks about it for too long.

- Bucky is a man in love and you’re happier with him than you ever thought was possible to be. Things are so good between you two; easy, light, and sweet.

- Then one night at dinner Bucky forgets his phone. He asks to borrow your to check the score of a baseball game.

- And he accidentally finds an open porn tab. Curious, he turns the screen so no one else can see and watches. His stomach twists. The appetizer from earlier suddenly isn’t sitting so well.

- Choking.

- You watch porn with men choking their women.

- He’s not judging. He’s really not. But he’d been hoping for something he could replicate for you, and this? He can’t. Not in a million years.

- He’s afraid of hurting you.

- He doesn’t say it out loud because it feels like speaking one of his worst fears into existence. He doesn’t want even the words to pass his lips and take root in your imagination.

- You can’t see him like that. Like a monster. Too many others have and there’s enough truth behind the title for him to sleep well at night, despite all his progress. But most of the time, he sleeps well. It’s because of you and he knows it. Your comforting presence allows him to relax.

- He sleeps in bed with you nowadays. He likes how firm your mattress is.

- He struggles through dinner, the video playing through the back of his mind. When you ask him what the score of the game was he can’t figure out what you’re talking about. It’s an awkward moment.

- The thing here, is that Bucky Barnes is a traditional man. His woman comes first. So he’s going to do whatever it takes to please you and he knows it.

- You always come first. Both in the bedroom and out of it. That’s one of his rules. So he’s already forming ideas about how he’s going to accommodate your kink.

- Two weeks later is your anniversary. He gets flowers, takes you to a nice restaurant and when you get home, brings up the thing.

- “I found your porn open when I borrowed your phone. I’m guessing that you like choking, doll?”

- Your cheeks turn bright red. And you stammer.

- “Hey. Don’t be embarrassed. I want to know this stuff. I need to. How can I please you if we don’t talk about it?”

- “Bucky, you don’t have to... I would never ask you...”

- He smiles. He loves that you’re protective of him in your own way. Knowing this has done a lot for his mental well-being. It makes the relationship between you two solid and strong.

- “I want to give you everything you want in bed,” Bucky says.

- “But you already do!”

- That’s true. Too many of your ex-boyfriends were quick and rough without taking the time for foreplay.

- Bucky is an expert at foreplay. He’s able to build the tension until you fall apart for him is an addiction that he feeds as often as he can. Knowing he provides for your needs like no other man before him is a point of pride for him. (Private pride, that is. Even Sam doesn’t know anything about his sex life. Some parts of 1940’s discretion is very much ingrained in him. It’s not shame. He just likes keeping intimacy... intimate.)

- Bucky is slow and sensual in bed, warm and passionate. With him sex really does feel like making love. It was on your first night together that you’d fallen for him and his patient, gentle way of touching you.

- Orgasming had been so easy when you felt worshiped and safe. And it remained that way with him. Later, these feelings heightened your desire for rough sex with your boyfriend. Because sex with Bucky was a place of security for you. He was utterly harmless towards you and in that context, rough sex would be amazing.

- But things between you two are pretty much vanilla.

- He’s always soft with you. Things can be heightened and swirling with passion, but he’s never show even a flash of aggression or force.

- The super soldier serum means he has stamina for days. He can accomplish and position you want to try, even if it involves lifting you for long periods of time. And there’s no question if he’s going to last. Also, his recovery time is so short “round two” sometimes blurs in with round one.

- But he’s careful about using his strength against you, even more so during intimate situations.

- You’re not “breakable” and he knows that. But you’re precious to him and leaving a mark that isn’t from pure passion would wreck his mental health. Permanently. He’d never forgive himself.

- You know this too, which is why you never asked him to choke you.

- “Baby doll. I want to give you your fantasy. Will you let me? Do you want that from me?”

- You do. You really, really want to be choked by him. So you quietly respond, “Yes.”

- Before he starts, you two sit on the couch and he holds you while you tell him about your fantasies. He takes off your heels while you tell him all your darkest desires. And he gives the sore arches of your feet a massage, listening intently.

- One comforting thing for Bucky is that having been a soldier, he knows how to choke someone. He’ll be able to tell if it’s too much for you. He knows how long before it would damage you. There’s some confidence forming that this will be safe and he won’t hurt you.

- It’s nice that for once his violent past is proving helpful in your relationship. He thought agreeing to choke you might rattle him a little, stirring up old emotions, but it’s soothing. He’s enjoying using what he knows to make this experience good for you.

- He lets things get rough when you go to bed. He doesn’t hold back the passion tonight. Instead, he focuses on eating you to orgasm and holding you on the edge until you pull his hair.

- “Bucky! Please!”

- Then he slides two fingers inside of you and draws fast little circles on your g-spot until you break.

- He lets up on your clit but as the orgasm fades, slides in a third finger and pounds the spot until your pussy creams on his hand and your groans are low and raw, filled with ecstasy.

- “That’s it, doll. Just like that. So pretty when you cum for me. Keep going, baby girl. I’m right here.”

- His metal arm wraps around your waist when you arch your back, holding you so he can keep toying with the spot as your hips begin to jerk away.

- When he’s finally done with your g-spot his hand is drenched. So is the sheet and your inner thighs.

- And you’re gasping for breath from the intense orgasm. When it comes on this hard you can’t really tell if it’s one long orgasm or three separate ones that came almost back to back.

- Bucky takes you in his arms, cooing sweet nothings into your ear.

- It helps you calm down when he talks in a soft soothing voice. The man should narrate meditations.

- His voice is silky and smooth for you, yet rough with repressed need. You can hear the need and it feeds your desire.

- “Please, Bucky. I need to feel you inside of me.”

- You find yourself underneath him, with your legs pushed apart and his body selling between them.

- You love feeling the weight of him on top of you.

- Then, he gently opens the petals of your sex and guides himself inside of you.

- There’s a stretch and burn as he enters you, just like there always is. Your body never quite adjusts to his girth. Each time you have to relax for him.

- He knows it’s a challenge to take him at first. He’s always careful and there’s a tube of lubricant in the side table. It’s not always needed but he’s always prepared.

- His hips begin to roll, and he sets a steady pace that pushes the tip of his cock against your spot with each thrust. At first his thrusts are shallow but as you begin to relax around him he goes deeper. His body moves forward to cover you and he starts fucking you hard.

- Each snap of his hips has you keening. Your body is so sensitive from your earlier orgasms. He keeps up the pace steady and constant until you’re begging. Then he reaches out with his metal hand and covers your throat. At this point, your channel clenches around him, almost in orgasm.

- “You wanted my metal hand baby, didn’t you?”

- Yeah. You had. The idea had fueled your fantasies night after night.

- The cool press of metal into your throat makes you moan and tremble.

- Bucky feels the shiver and worry flashes through his eyes. “This okay, doll?”

- “Yes, harder, please!”

- He can feel your body responding and it encourages him to press down, finally choking you the way you’d dreamed of.

- You orgasm almost instantly as he chokes you through your climax.

- Bucky lets go when your fluttering muscles start to ease. Suddenly he’s driving into you hard. He drops his hand from your neck, needing both to balance his weight as he seeks his own pleasure.

- The wild, rough movement is harder than the two of you have ever gone before.

- Because he’s always been afraid of hurting you with his enhanced strength until he was too far gone to think.

- When his orgasm hits, his sight goes white and he jerks against you, pumping his seed into you. Then he collapses.

- You hold him tight, savoring the press of his body and the feeling of his release inside of you.

- “You okay, doll? I wasn’t too rough?”

- “It was perfect.”

- Your hand strokes through his hair as you lay together in the same position for several minutes. Heartbeats pounding, your minds still struggling to return to equilibrium.

- Bucky recovers first. Damn that super soldier serum. It’s not fair that you’re still limp and dazed.

- He slips out of you and rolls over, bringing you with him. Your head finds its cradle in his shoulder and your eyes drift shut.

- Recovery isn’t going to happen for you tonight. You’re just going straight to sleep. You’ve earned it.

- Bucky shifts you onto your side. He gets up and you hear water running in the bathroom before a cool cloth touches between your legs, cleaning you.

- You murmur a thanks, half asleep.

- He comes back to cuddle you into his arms, adjusting the pillows around you before he lays down.

- When you throw a leg over his hip, he draws you closer so that you’re lying almost on top of him.

- “You make such a good pillow of someone with so many hard muscles.”

- Bucky chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

- “I’m glad. Go to sleep, doll. I love you.”

- “I love you too, James.”

[livingforthewhump]

Bad Caretaker Part 4

No editing we die like men (meaning it’s 1 AM but my writer brain won’t let me rest until it’s posted)

Masterlist

—

Tobias’ chest heaved as he ran, harsh air burning his chest, inside and out, what with the new wound in his side. His legs ached from the seemingly infinite distance to safety, but he was still in the back of his team’s group.

Their pursuers were hot on his heels, and every step took more and more willpower. He focused on Michael’s back in front of him, hoping Levi’s chosen recon point was close. He’d be waiting with their getaway car.

Tobias didn’t see Jacob turn around from where he was leading the group, but he did hear him when he yelled, “Michael! Tobias is injured!”

Michael turned around, jaw clenching as he took in the blood soaking into the front of Tobias’ shirt. He’d been through worse before— it was just a knife wound. Wasn’t even serrated— but not while running.

Michael slung Tobias’ arm over his shoulder and all but dragged him forward. He couldn’t stop himself from screaming when his wound was pulled, tears rising to his eyes. Then he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, I won’t- won’t do it again, please,” he whimpered instinctually, faster than his mind could process that it wasn’t Isaac beside him right now.

Michael stared at him, stumbling slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“Isaac doesn’t like it when I scream,” he managed, biting his lip to stop himself from doing it again.

Michael’s eyebrows drew together, mouth setting in a way Tobias couldn’t quite read. He seemed to want to say something, but the situation didn’t allow it, so he turned his face forward again and ran faster.

Tobias may have blacked out somewhere, because he blinked and suddenly he was lying down, the others hovering over him. He blinked blearily, confused. And then the pain hit. A pained whimper got caught somewhere in his throat and he tried to curl forward onto his wound, tears gathering pitifully in his eyes.

“Hold still, Tobias,” Jacob said, brown eyes wide with concern. “Please, you’re injured, we need to treat the wound.”

“No, n-nnh,” Tobias writhed instinctively, pulling on the hem of his shirt even though no one had made a move to touch it yet. He couldn’t let anyone see. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to know what Isaac would do if he showed his scars.

Jacob sat back a little, brow creasing further. “Tobias, please.”

Levi’s jaw set. “What’s gotten into you? You’re injured. Let us help you.”

Tobias whined again, soft words slipping out before he could stop them. “N-not, not allowed,” he whimpered, then his heart froze in his chest, combating horribly with the fire of the wound carved into his side. He prayed they didn’t hear, but judging by Jacob and Levi’s facial expressions, they definitely did. Tobias was studiously ignoring Michael, who knelt right next to him with a medical kit.

Soft hands touched his hair, pulling it back from his forehead where it had been sticking, and he would have sighed in relief had he not been so shaken by the unexpected content. That was wrong, he didn’t want to he touched right now and everyone was too close…

Isaac’s face came into view, upside down. Oh, it was Isaac’s hands in his hair. Was his head on Isaac’s lap?

Tobias’ stomach churned at the thought and he blubbered, pulling away. Isaac’s fingers tightened in his hair and pulled him back down discreetly, but harshly enough to make him wince.

“I think he’s getting fevered,” Isaac murmured.

Jacob shot him a scared look and reached forward again, too close, and Tobias choked on a sob.

It was all too close.

The blood in his veins was on fire and pulsing and wanting out, and it seeped through the gash in his side only to stain his clothes red and make them cling too him, sticky and smelling like rust, and all across his skin every permanent reminder of Isaac’s touch ached and scratched, demanding his attention and caging his heart in between their pale, raised lines, and he wanted them gone and he never wanted anyone to see them and he never wanted Isaac to touch him again but Isaac was here now and was still touching him and everyone was crowding around him and wanted to look at him and touch him and they wouldn’t stop talking—

“Guys BACK UP, he’s overwhelmed!” Michael shouted with so much authority in his tone that they all, surprisingly, listened. “We need to get him somewhere quiet with not as many people.”

“I’ll take him to his room,” Isaac agreed immediately, moving to scoop up Tobias’ limp and blood-soaked frame.

“No,” Michael said, voice firm. “I’m the one with medical knowledge. I’ll take him back and treat his wound.”

Isaac’s jaw flexed as he met eyes with Michael, but he quickly flashed a sheepish smile, conceding. “Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you need. I know how to deal with him.”

“I’m sure you do,” Michael murmured in a bitter tone that was lost to everyone else.

“Besides, Michael’s got to be the least overwhelming of all of us.” Levi smirked and raised an eyebrow. Tobias found issue with that statement, and would have said something had he not been sniveling at the moment.

Jacob elbowed him. “Shut up.”

Isaac helped Michael gather Tobias’ weight—which, really, was much lighter than it should be. But Michael’s brain was a carnival of concerns at the moment, and wondering if Tobias ate enough was just confetti to be trampled underfoot.

As he got him into his room with the door closed behind them and the lights still off, the trembling boy seemed to relax just a little. Or maybe it was from the blood loss. Michael cursed, rushing him over to the bed and propping him up on the pillows.

“I need to see your wound, Tobias,” Michael said, reaching for his shirt.

Tobias whined and stiffened, curling in on himself. “Not, nn—Isaac-”

Michael fought helpless tears rising in his own eyes. “Tobias, please, we don’t have time for this. You could be bleeding out and I’m the one who’s going to stop that from happening, so please just let me.”

Tobias blinked sluggishly at him, muttering something that might have been a no, but Michael took it as a yes anyway. Tobias was really too weak to fight him as he pulled the shirt off, squelching and staining his fingers red with blood.

But even the wound was nothing compared to the scars covering Tobias’ torso. Jagged lines wrapping around him, places where skin had been shredded, ripped apart and left there forever. He recognized some of the marks, or at least knew what kind of instrument made them, but some of them he didn’t want to imagine. All of them made him feel sick.

Tobias whined, all the fight leaving him. He slumped backwards and let tears flood his already soaked face.

Michael took a deep breath, reaching for his supplies. Tobias was injured now, the rest could wait till later. But first… there was a doubt, a suspicion, that had been growing in his mind. He needed to know.

“Tobias… did Isaac do this to you?”

—

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @ros-is-writing @sunflower1000 @temporary-whump-sideblog @hurting-fictional-people @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit @cupcakes-and-pain @sideblogformindtrash @starnight-whump @trans-writes @freefallingup13 @chartreusephoenix @multifandoms-multishipper @firewheeesky @lave-whump @misspelledwitch @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @journey-the-panda

[lavendertales]

Keep the faith (Javier Peña x f!reader)

Part 23 of Lay It On Me series

summary: you spiral into anxiety and overthinking again as things get increasingly difficult with Cali. Javier takes matter into his own hands and has a heart to heart with you.

word count: 7k (the fuck, I’m sorry)

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @badbatch

series masterlist | AO3 | playlist

The morning returned with all of its unforgiving grace, and so did last night’s memories.

You bid your goodbye to Connie and Steve sometime around six a.m. and returned to your bedroom where Javier was still sleeping peacefully. You stole a selfish moment of staring, admiring how quiet he looked, probably getting a good night’s rest for the first time in who knows how long. You laid awake in bed for another solid hour, unable to think about anything else but the eventful evening you shared with your two friends and the words that had ended the night so peacefully and, in a surprising collocation, tumultuously.

I’m gonna marry you.

Initially, you refused to take Javier’s words seriously. There was no indication you should have done so. You had accidentally gotten high, and your history with commitment did not play out in your favor. It was still leaving its nasty marks on the both of you. Nothing about either one of you would have made it plausible for… whatever the hell it was that Javier tried to drop on you so unexpectedly.

And yet, there you were, lying in bed next to him, your once so-called arch nemesis, overthinking his simpleton words. You couldn’t help it; it was your second nature.

Did he really mean it? Did he really consider taking that step someday? Or soon? No, it couldn’t have been the case. The man who refused and ran away from any pledge was suddenly talking about the biggest step possible for a pair? No. Implausible. Besides, you were barely together as it was and you felt bad the entire time after any of your encounters because you thought that time should be spent towards ending the Cali cartel instead of hitting the sheets. Simply talking about that kind of promise made it so much more serious and… permanent.

But you were in for it, as you had told Javier, and you meant it. You didn’t care for anyone else. Javier was the only thing you could’ve possibly wanted by your side, and you did not go through all of that inner turmoil and pain for nothing. You wanted him, as he himself offered it to you on a golden plate, to be your family.

Slowly yet surely, you began to doubt your own intentions and seriousness regarding the two of you, and more than before, you were simply dying to know exactly what Javier’s intentions were, sober.

You struggled a little with your words when Javier exited your shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. You bit the inside of your cheeks, gulping and staring at the wet locks of hair on his forehead, suddenly lost in an all too delicious temptation.

“I uh—I made breakfast,” you got out with a flustered smile.

Javier chuckled, approaching you daringly. “I like seeing you get all flustered.”

“Oh, bite me, Peña.”

“Show me where.”

Cheeky son of a—

“Listen, last night… never happened. We’ll get fired otherwise,” you tried to clear the air.

“I’m aware of that. Then again, we’ll get fired if that tape gets out, so… seems the universe finds new ways to tell us we’re gonna get fucked up.”

“Yeah, but last night was an accident.”

“I don’t know about that, I feel like Connie definitely wanted to mess with us.”

You chuckled, pleasantly surprised at Javier’s renewed sense of humor. If anything, you craved that domestic side of him you knew he was more than capable of showing. But that side only came out when he was alone with you. And it was a good thing, to be sure. You realized that neither you nor Javier had shared such sincere laughter before. While it was true that the situation you were in was, more often than not, draining and exhausting and you did not allow yourselves to enjoy anything but a rough quickie, nowadays you both seemed more gentle and open with each other.

“Did Connie and Steve go?” he asked.

“Yeah, they left around six a.m.”

“And was she okay after—you know, Steve being a blabbermouth and coming clean about us?”

“Yeah, she said she’s genuinely glad it wasn’t a forgettable experience with some sleazy strangers.”

“That’s good.”

“It is.”

Awkwardness installed itself in between you two and you hesitated to even bring up the subject, seeing as to how Javier was working to reassemble yesterday’s attire. It felt like there are millions of tiny, sharp pieces scattered throughout your chest, mercilessly poking at your lungs and heart, making them ache and bleed all at once, tainting them with the remnants of your former life and fears that you had so abruptly abandoned in your search to start anew.

“We don’t wanna be late again,” Javier reminded you after a while, now fully dressed.

“Right. Let’s grab something to eat first.”

The moment you finally stepped into the embassy, rushing to get to your office, you noticed Steve, his back against you, appearing to be holding something with both hands. You frantically searched through some files when he finally saluted you.

“Hey, mornin’,” he said, a big, goofy smile residing on his face.

“Hey.”

You took a double look as you realized that he was, in fact, holding a baby. Your eyes widened with absolute shock as you stared at him, confused.

“What—what the hell is that?” you all but shouted.

“It’s a very common thing known as a baby.”

You frowned, unimpressed with Steve’s sass and examined the cooing baby with a very unpleasant feeling residing in the pits of your stomach.

“Why do you have a baby? Where did it come from?”

You gasped as a terrifying realization fell upon you like a brick. “Did you steal it??”

“Why the fuck would I steal a baby??”

“I don’t know! Why do people do anything?! They’re not just randomly found on the street!”

“Actually, Connie found her this morning in a house. Her mother was shot dead in bed with her, and she was crying and screaming bloody murder.”

“Probably her mother’s.”

Steve shot you a harsh look, but you shrugged. You watched him coax the little girl and heard her giggle in return.

“What are you doing with her here?”

“I’m just waiting for Connie to talk to someone on the phone. We’re thinking of adopting her.”

More shock came over to you. It seemed you were in for quite the eventful day, and it was only ten a.m.

“We’ve been talking about having a baby for a long time and… we didn’t wanna leave her out there all alone.”

“Makes sense. She is kinda cute, I’ll give her that.”

“She sure is. We’re gonna see what the paperwork is like and hopefully adopt her legally in the States.”

“So you—you’re going back?”

“That’s the plan after I finish here. Alive, hopefully. In that case, I told Connie to take her with her back to New York and take care of here until I come back.”

He chuckled nervously and so did you, in spite of the chilling prospect that image of either member of the team to be found dead. Again.

“You’re gonna make great parents,” you beamed.

“Thanks. I sure hope so.”

“Well you’ve been looking after each other for over ten years and you also took care of Javier on numerous occasions so I think you’re covered.”

This time Steve laughed out loud and it triggered a giggle from the little girl as well.

“I’m just a bit worried for you two,” you added.

“Why?”

“It’s not a matter of trust, don’t get me wrong. It’s just… do you think taking in a baby during these times is a good idea?”

“I told you, once we get the approval, Connie’s gonna take her with her to New York.”

“But until then, what happens? You’ll have to stay here.”

“Oh come on, what was I supposed to do?”

You hesitated, realizing that coming out with your facts might’ve made you sound like a complete monster, but it didn’t take Steve long to figure out why you were doing so.

“I couldn’t just leave her there,” he said, almost offended. “She would’ve starved to death.”

“I know that. Maybe it’s my flight or fight response.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You sighed, upset at your own instincts and mentality for the first time in many years.

“I always looked out for myself. I never counted on anyone. I had no problem leaving people behind to protect myself, emotionally I mean. If you can’t help it within five minutes, leave. That’s always been my answer.”

“You would’ve left a baby to die?”

“Don’t be cruel, of course not! I wouldn’t have left her there in the pool of her mother’s blood. I would’ve probably dropped her off somewhere, to a comuna, and… moved on.”

“Wow. You got issues.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

“Do me a favor, don’t have kids.”

You knew he was joking. You knew he didn’t mean it and that he didn’t think much of it, especially when he pated your back caringly, and you smiled in return. You smiled and cast it aside, agreeing with him.

“Don’t worry. That’s not gonna happen,” you reassured him.

You sneaked glances around the embassy throughout the rest of the day, but there was no sign of Javier. It became an instinct to seek him out, whether physically, visually or audibly, and it kinda hurt you when he was not around. You were no fool, though; you did not and could not expect him to be in your vicinity 24/7, but you yearned constantly. Many were the times you found yourself wishing for a simpler life where it was just you and him, free from obligations and pain.

You did your best to carry out your activities as per usual, though there was much to think about, many things revolving furiously inside your head and allowing you no space of your own, no freedom of mind. Every minute was consuming you with never-ending “what if” scenarios, and when the afternoon came, you felt like you could explode at any given time.

Nonetheless, you vehemently refused to let anyone suspect that there was a raging war being carried out without your will inside of you, so you stayed put in your office. There was a lot of murmur going around at some point, and curiosity finally struck you.

“What’s going on?” you asked Chris.

“Not sure. There’s talk regarding Franklin Jurado, but we don’t know yet what’s going on.”

Chris quickly scanned the surroundings before leaning closer to you, whispering as if afraid of something greater than someone overhearing.

“Are you and Javier okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… with the rules against co-workers dating and all… and you and him…”

“We’re not… dating, Chris. Don’t sweat it. It’s all good.”

“Okay. Great then.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s great. There’s no future in sight for someone like him and me.”

Sometimes it was better to keep things to yourself. The less people who knew your secrets, the better. Even though Chris and Daniel accidentally participated in Steve’s outburst and Javier’s subsequently triggered confession to you, neither asked any questions nor paid much attention to the two of you in the time that followed that night, which was very gallant and professional of them.

But you still did not want to risk any information leak. Not anymore. You took no more chances.

Javier’s voice, coarse and somehow affected, reached your ears as smoothly as always and you felt relief washing over you. The moment you locked eyes with him you noticed restlessness on his face and in his body language as well, instantly becoming worried.

“What’s the matter?” you questioned him.

“Christina Jurado’s missing.”

Your face dropped, but you didn’t want to add to Javier’s agitation even more, so you refrained yourself from openly reacting.

“How did that happen?”

“Don’t you think I would’ve told you if I knew?”

He immediately felt regret take over him. “I’m sorry. It’s just one fucking problem after the other, and I am just fucking sick and tired of everything. Now I gotta figure out how to get her back, where she is… and if Franklin finds out his wife disappeared, he’ll never talk.”

“Listen to me, hey.”

You cupped his cheeks, convinced there was no one else around you and locked eyes with him. In that moment, Javier relaxed, unclenched his jaw and allowed his body to turn into a puddle under your touch.

“You’re not doing this by yourself. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You rubbed your nose against his, closing your eyes for a brief second, taking in his marvelous scent, all too familiar and comforting. You lingered for longer than you should have, but for just how long you needed it. He pecked your nose, inhaling your perfume and your scent, hoping that warm feeling will last him for the rest of the day and the tough situation that he was once again put in.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you.”

“Fucking hell, it sounds so good when you say it.”

You giggled and fought against yourself to let him go, clearing your throat. Last night’s words, along this morning’s, swept over you once again, chanting at the back of your head like an unwanted hymn of disappointment and failure. The promise of taking it slow from your already tumultuous private life did neither you nor Javier good, come to think of it, but it was a promise you both had to keep and had agreed to do so in order to save your reputation and your jobs.

“We didn’t even go out on a proper date or something,” he muttered on his way out.

“A date? When was the last time you had one?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“If you must know, I went on plenty of dates.”

“Which ended… how? Or where?”

You playfully slapped his arm and he stared cheekily at you, reckoning you were nervous. But nothing in Javier’s behavior suggested even the slightest moment of hesitation or anxiety any longer.

“I haven’t had a date in years,” he replied truthfully.

“Me either.”

“You just said—”

“It was true, but… last actual date was… gosh, I must’ve been twenty six.”

“I might have some ideas in my mind.”

“Oh?”

Javier licked his bottom lip, staring at you from head to toe and smirks, exhaling with ease afterwards. Even after all of that time, he still had it in him, and you were no exception to his seduction methods.

“We can have dinner in a nice restaurant, I can walk you back home and maybe… a little dessert after.”

“You really think there’s anything left for you in the physical seduction department to use on me?”

“Try me.”

The words gave you anxiety again and you shuddered, flustered and in pain, feeling the urge to leave your confining office. You replied nothing as you flashed a fugitive smile at Javier and left your own office, much to his confusion.

Javier fought off all of his instincts to not rush after you, instincts which had been nonexistent until you took complete control over his heart and mind, becoming the sole owner of those two places. It was scary at times for him to realize how far the two of you had come and how much he cared for you, as well as the things he was ready to do for you.

That was it.

As he watched you walk away, Javier finally understood the reason behind your edginess. It was fairly obvious, and yet he still failed to pick up on it until that very moment. Nevertheless, he did not want to think it had anything to do with any of your fears. Perhaps you were simply skeptical and confused as to why he would launch such a promise at such an inopportune moment. 

One thing was clear: you were the kind of person who planned everything thoroughly and liked to know what was coming, and that was, therefore, an unwanted surprise, a shock that you could not prepare yourself for.

Javier, on the other hand, was as surefire as he could be about it. It didn’t scare him. He envisioned a place where there was no war on drugs, no death walking around and no pain, where the two of you could build your future together. He came to the conclusion that even he, as messed up and harsh as he was, he could be worth having someone like you in his life.

He would’ve never gave love, craving someone like that, a second chance if it wasn’t for you.

After all… you were his very first love. A reminder that he was capable of caring selflessly for someone else, unconditionally and irrevocably.

“Hey, Javi, we’re going to—“ Steve began, still holding the baby.

“What the hell is that?”

“Wow. You two are one and the same, I swear.”

“What?”

“Van Ness and Feistl’s informant says there’s gonna be a party coming up soon, and Miguel Rodriguez is bound to make an appearance.”

“O-kay, uh—but he’s in hiding now. Why would he show up at a party?”

“Rumor has it that it’s the Cali Fiesta, or however the fuck they call that. Huge tradition for the cartel. With Guillermo gone, he’s the leader. He’s expected to show up.”

“Okay, well, if he really is gonna be there, we need to be prepared.”

Steve glanced sideways, noticing Connie coming out of one of the offices and looked back at Javier, handing him the baby much to his dismay.

“What—whoa, what are you doing?” he panicked.

“Just hold her for a bit, I’ll be back in a few seconds.”

“What the—”

Javier awkwardly held the baby as he was told and looked around, thankful that no one was there to see that unfold. He never held one before and he was more than nervous for such a simple task.

“This still doesn’t clarify why do you have this baby or from where!” Javier shouted.

The baby giggled, taking him by surprise, and he stared quietly at her, as if examining for any design flaws. There was none to be found. It was just a healthy baby, a human being forged from the love of two other grown ones.

“That guy’s a bit crazy, you know that?”

The baby giggled again, and Javier puffed, surprised. The discomfort disappeared in the slightest, and despite the fact that he was feeling silly for making conversation with a slobbering child who could not understand a word he was saying, it felt therapeutical in a sense.

“But if he’s got you, you’re in great hands,” Javier continued. “He’s a great guy. And he has a great wife too. They’re… really good people.”

“Sorry about that, Javi,” Connie’s voice broke the daze Javier was seemingly trapped in as she reached to take the baby from his arms.

He nodded and cleared his throat, back to feeling uncomfortable and awkward and stared curiously at the pair.

“Long story short, we found her with her mother shot dead next to her, all alone, and... we want to adopt her,” Connie clarifies with a nervous and excited smile on her lips.

“You’ll make great parents,” Javier said nonchalantly.

Both smiled at him, clearly overly-excited about the whole idea, and Javier came to see that it offers them, but especially Steve, a new purpose, a renewed hope to hang onto in those desperate times. And he got it.

His hope and purpose that kept him going was you.

“Better get her out of here,” he blurted out, his blood pressure rising yet again. “It’s not really the environment for babies.”

“Right. Oh, and uh… how about we grab some drinks tonight, dance a little?” Connie suggested. “Everything’s so crazy and—”

“No offense, Con, but I got so many things on my mind, I – I don’t have time to go dancing.”

“Which is precisely why you need a break. You can’t do everything by yourself, Javi. You’re only human.”

Javier huffed, fully aware that Connie wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy. And sure enough, she stared him down until he grudgingly accepted the offer and walked her out of the embassy alongside Steve. 

He wasn’t in the mood for any bar. Frankly, he would’ve rather spent whatever free time he had getting you out of your clothes and sending you on cloud nine with his body, but so be it. He could put it off for one night.

You arrived at the bar first, needing a bit of time alone to process—well, pretty much everything.

Instead of things getting easier, they were somehow getting progressively worse and trickier. Putting Guillermo Rodriguez behind bars was supposed to be a huge deal; instead, it was barely noticeable. Miguel, Chepe and Pacho were still at large, as were the rest of the cartel’s members, and Miguel seemed, more than never, untouchable. It was getting ridiculous by that point, and you felt like no amount of alcohol would solve it.

Alas, you could at least try.

You were three drinks in and two cigarettes later when Connie, Steve and Javier showed up and took seats next to you at the table. Javier’s eyes landed on you as you took a slow drag out of the cigarette, holding it in between your index and middle finger, blowing the smoke up in alluring clouds of nicotine, your lips shaped in the perfect O, the kind he saw whenever he buried himself inside you and brought you pleasure.

He cleared his throat and lit his own cigarette, ordering a whiskey.

“Where’s the baby?” was your conversation opener.

“She’s spending the night at a comuna with one of the ladies that I work with.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you went back to those.”

“I volunteered to work at one again, for distraction and doing a little good. What else am I gonna do when this one is risking his life?”

Connie pressed a light kiss to Steve’s cheek and you smiled, eyes locking with Javier’s by your side. There was an unspoken tension lingering, having you completely fucked up and in a dire need of more alcohol. You fell into your mind’s cruel trap yet again, reminding you of the fact that you were still, until proven otherwise, just another number on Javier’s list, unable to live life with him the way you would’ve wanted, and all that you two had in common was under the sheets. 

And you knew it was not true; you felt it to be so, but your mind wouldn’t give you a rest. In fact, it was only making things worse and turning that day into something downright appalling. Despite all of your best efforts, it felt like everything was conspiring against you and offering you proof after proof that you were factually going about things the wrong way.

You finished your cigarette and went to order another drink, but Javier offered to do it for you, taking an order for everyone at the table. Stunned, you sat there, eyeing the crowd and responding the best you could to Connie’s inquiries, but soon even that was gone. She went to dance with Steve and you lost them in the crowd, finding comfort in the knowledge that Steve was strong enough to protect them both should it be the case.

Javier never returned with the drinks. When you tracked him down, you saw him dancing with the embassy’s secretary, Julia, and you held a breath in. You went to the bar, getting your own damned drink and returned to the table, doing your best to not be seen. It would’ve been a terrible thing to be noticed in public with Javier when things were already so precarious for the two of you, so you forced yourself to watch the crowd sweating in each other’s arms. Inevitably, your eyes landed back on Javier and Julia, whose hands were shamelessly wrapped around his neck. He, on the other hand, was looking rigid and a little pale, even in the fluorescent lights.

You couldn’t blame Julia, though. Javier was probably one of the most wanted men at the embassy, and that was the case especially back in Medellin. And you knew exactly where she wanted to go with all of that curving around Javier. She didn’t want or need a relationship with him. She only wanted relief. Pleasure from an eye candy.

Just like the rest of his numbers.

“Phew! It is hot out there!”

Connie and Steve returned, face reddened and temples vaguely sweaty, clearly enjoying themselves for a change. Your eyes were still glued to Javier and Julia despite your better knowledge of just—looking away. But you couldn’t. You could not take your eyes off of him, your glare deadly and vicious, even green with envy.

And the look did not go unnoticed by either Connie or Steve.

“Someone’s jealous,” Connie teased.

Your eyes landed back on her and she felt intimidated by it just as much.

“Whoa. You are insanely jealous,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s the death glare,” Steve added.

“The what now?”

“You know, the glare you throw someone when they get too close to Javi?”

You frowned, somewhat alarmed that it had become such an obvious custom of yours.

“I don’t have—”

Steve put his hand up. “Don’t even bother.”

“Sweetie, it’s not gonna kill you if you admit you’re jealous. I mean, you have every reason to.”

“It might actually kill me. And him. Or kick us out of the DEA and the country, respectively.”

Both of them frowned, but you did not elaborate. Instead, you finished your drink and sighed, closing your eyes and feeling the alcohol kick in. You were in that sweet spot where you were tipsy and closer to becoming unhinged, and you loved it.

“It’s a good thing he’s dancing with Julia though,” Steve whispered to you over the table.

“I know, we’re not supposed to let anyone know that we’re—whatever the fuck it is that we’re doing.”

“Being together?” Connie tried amusedly.

You shrugged, maddened by the definition. “I don’t know. Who knows?”

“Everyone but you and Javi, apparently.”

“I—love this man, and… I would kill for him. And he wants to marry me, and I don’t know if there’s—”

“He what?”

Connie’s shocked tone momentarily woke you from your sweet spot, which you did not like, so you stood up and tried to crawl your way back to the bar. She caught your wrist and thus made you look back at her.

“Javi said he wants to marry you?”

“He said it last night, at the worst possible time. It’s not… it might’ve been just him intoxicated, saying shit he shouldn’t be saying.”

“Or not,” Steve suggested.

“Or it is.”

“Do… you want to marry him?”

“Why—why are we talking about marriage in a bar?”

You chuckled nervously and finally left the table, leaving a giggly and surprised Connie behind to discuss that matter with Steve. Once you got to the bar, you ordered another whiskey and tried to lit your cigarette and became angry very fast when the lighter gave out on you.

“Mierda!”

A gentle tap on your shoulder cast aside the anger; when you turned, your face dropped and all your color drained from it as you were met with the face.

“¿Necesita un poco de fuego, señorita?”

Need some fire, miss?

The man didn’t even wait for your answer and, with the flick of the wrist, took out a lighter and lit your cigarette, smiling pleasantly at you. Too stunned to verbally reply, you could only stare at him.

“Disfruta de tu noche,” he shortly nodded at you and went through the crowd.

Enjoy your night.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. It shouldn’t have been that way, but you couldn’t stop it. His figure was imprinted on your mind now, taunting and teasing you, laughing at you, causing you immense distress. You should not have felt that way, especially not over someone who could easily be deemed as a stranger. But he was responsible for it, and his ease with words and moves did not do you any favors.

You returned to the table stunned, cigarette and glass of whiskey in your hand, just as Javier sat down and took notice of your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you right away.

“She’s jealous of—”

Your eyes were fixated on another table, far off in the distance, where you recognized his silhouette. You wanted to be much stronger than you revealed, but your mind was still playing tricks on you. You downed the whiskey, to the surprise of the three people at the table, and when you finally broke the trance you were caught in, you tried to shake it off, but failed miserably at it. You were too angry and tipsy to be coherent or formulate any convincing response. When the man left the table, Steve and Javier stared with disbelief, finally recognizing him.

“What’s happening now?” Connie asked.

“That was… Pacho Herrera,” Steve cooed, unable to believe. “One of the Cali godfathers. I had a run in with him a while ago when he… basically kidnapped me.”

“I remember. That was him?”

“He’s responsible for the North Valley massacres and disputes and he’s the one who organizes them.”

Steve pointed at you briefly before adding, “Her mom died in one of those.”

Connie’s eyes shifted back to you as you smoked your cigarette, speechless still.

“Your mom? I didn’t even—”

“It’s a long story,” you said automatically. “We weren’t close, and now she’s dead. Makes things easier.”

“But—”

“I can separate my feelings from work. I’m fine.”

You paused, exhaling the smoke from your lungs, after which you chuckled in a way that sent shivers down Connie and Steve’s spines.

“Actually, no, cause if that were true, I wouldn’t be—involved with you.”

You shifted your gaze upon Javier, who stared worriedly at you, mimicking no gesture. He took the cigarette out of your hand, finishing it and putting it in the ashtray before taking your hand in his and leading you to the dance floor under Connie and Steve’s cautious eyes.

Dancing was the last thing on your mind. But his hands were so warm and familiar, you couldn’t refuse it. You couldn’t fight it. Gripping gently your waist, Javier pulled you close to him, enough for you to smell his signature cologne in the midst of all the nicotine and whiskey.

“What’s going on?” he asked, eyes scanning the crowd.

“It’s all good.”

“Lie all you want, you know I know you better than that.”

Where did all that cockiness come from? Was he always like that, to an exaggerated degree? You weren’t sure. What you did know, though, was that you were feeling tipsier than before, perhaps as a result of the cigarettes mixed with the alcohol and that run-in with Pacho Herrera.

“I can separate my feelings. I’m fine.”

“What’s going on?”

His chest, slightly exposed and sweaty, was stripping your brain from all of its rationality, piece by piece, until all you were left with was anger, jealousy and frustration, and all you wanted to do was take it out on him, just like he did.

You were no better than he was.

“Today somebody’s fucking with me, I swear. It’s just been hit after hit, and… I really thought Julia was gonna be my worst case scenario tonight.”

“She wanted to sleep with me.”

“Oh, how shocking.”

Javier had his eyes on you now, noticing just how irritated you were. He licked his bottom lip, his hand travelling a bit farther down your back, resting just above your ass. He rejoiced when you gasped against your will and when you looked right back at him.

“I’m not sharing,” was all you said.

“Me either.”

“Good. Because I didn’t go through all of that shit to lose you to a bimbo.”

“Agreed.”

“Stop agreeing with me.”

“Okay.”

Your death glare returned, but Javier found it awfully endearing. He pressed his forehead to yours, the skin on skin contact disarming you completely.

“I’m yours. End of discussion.”

You hesitated for a moment, gulping as you tried to compose yourself before speaking. It was tough, and the environment was of no help either.

“Javier… I don’t know how much you remember from last night…”

There it was. You brought it up at last, and Javier’s theory had been confirmed. There was nothing else you needed to say for him to receive your message. His hand traveled back up on your spine, seemingly teasing it with his fingers barely grazing the material covering your skin, and he seemed calmer than you’d ever seen him.

Or perhaps that was the alcohol saying its filthy word.

“I’m sorry if I scared you with what I said,” he said somewhat apologetically. “But I remember everything.”

“You didn’t… scare me. I mean, we were… under the influence and I thought… maybe hoped at some point that… you didn’t mean it.”

This time, there was no expression on Javier’s face. On the contrary, his face dropped, oozing some sort of disappointment and a certain degree of shyness.

“I didn’t say that because we were drugged. I meant it. I only say things that I mean. If anything, that gave me enough confidence to just… say it. But I get why you’d be skeptical about it.”

“We’re barely… together, or whatever the hell this is—”

“We are. We’re together.”

“Okay. I just… I spent the whole day overthinking and trying to get rid of these feelings, of this numbness—”

“What feelings?”

“That I’m another number on your list and that we’re doomed to fail, that there’s no future for us.”

It was Javier’s turn to use his death glare, and this one went right through you, cooling you off for a fleeting moment.

“You think I went around throwing ‘I love you’ to every woman I slept with?”

“I sure hope not.”

“No. You’re—”

He huffed, struggling to come forward, but he knew he had to. He had gotten that far, he might as well be honest through and through. Brutally direct, as he’d always been.

“You’re the first woman that I really love and care for. And… there’s more to that story of me and Lorraine.”

You involuntarily held your breath and waited, still waltzing to the rhythm of the music.

“The day of the wedding… I was ready to wait for her at the end of that aisle knowing that she was pregnant and that we were gonna be a family.”

You didn’t know exactly why or how, but that particular piece of information felt like a sucker punch.

“She was pregnant?” you muttered almost incredulously.

“That’s what I thought. I got into my car, too anxious to go through with it, when she called me and told me she got her period. It was over just as fast as it started. I thought it was a good reason to get married, you know? Having a kid… it was the right thing. And then there was no baby.”

“A baby you didn’t want in the first place.”

You frowned slightly, images of a younger, anxious Javier Peña desperately trying to be honorable and do the right thing invading your mind. You didn’t know whom you should feel sorrier for, him or Lorraine, when it was evident that both had been victims of their own insecurities without the other knowing.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a dad, or if even had those instincts,” Javier continued, face and tone grave. “I just kind of accepted that. I knew she would be over the moon. She’d make a great mother. She did end up having kids, married a stock broker. She’s happier than she would’ve ever been with me.”

You sensed regret and a certain melancholy in his voice that you didn’t often get the chance of witnessing. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, revealing a bittersweet smile.

“Do you regret it?”

“What? Leaving?”

“Looking back at the life you could’ve had.”

“No. Not really. I know that I wasn’t cut out for that back then.”

“And you think you’re ready now?”

“I told you, cariño. I am ready for you, however you want me or need me to be. And don’t tell Steve, but… he was right. I gotta get my shit together. So that’s what I’m trying to do here.”

“I know, and I admire that. I’m trying to do that as well. I just—”

Javier looked at you with that worrisome, puppy expression that you found ever so hard to resist and alluring and you cracked.

“I don’t want kids. And I... can’t have kids.”

The statement left Javier dumbfounded for a split second; it was followed closely by relief and acceptance. Of course you don’t. It made all the sense in the world, given how you live and how many things still consumed you that you haven’t fully embraced yet.

“I just—I mean, since we’re on the subject,” you sort of apologized. “But you looked cute today holding that baby.”

Javier looked at you dumbfounded, a shy smile now dominating his face. “You saw that?”

“By accident. But, uh… yeah, I can’t have kids. There was a pregnancy scare, years ago, when I was with Spencer… and I went to the doctor and it got clearer. And I realized it was a sign.”

“Signs don’t matter. What you feel and what you want matters.”

“I know. I never really wanted kids. So I don’t know… I don’t want you to look back at our life when we’re old and wrinkly—”

His smile turned into a smirk, and you grasped what you implied.

“You know… theoretically,” you tried to rectify.

“And you think I wanna raise kids in this fucked up world, this country? At our age?”

“We’re not old.”

“We’re pushing forty.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s… sad for us.”

You both chuckled, feeling a little more relieved.

“I am way too tired from my own life to bring chaos onto an innocent baby,” he said.

“But… do you want to? Honestly.”

Javier pondered for what you felt as an excruciating moment, replying with a decisive “No” afterwards, which lifted a huge weight off of your shoulders, weight which was unknowingly crushing you.

“So that’s off the table,” you concluded, relieved.

“What about the other big question?”

When you looked in his eyes, you saw sincerity, and a sparkle that hadn’t always been there. No, that one was recent and by the looks of it, Javier was also trying to get acquainted to it, but he let it in. He let you in, and he let all of the feelings that you brought upon him in, contorting into a mass of security and coziness.

“You did laugh at me when I said… that,” Javier said.

“Yeah, well… the man who hates and runs from commitment suddenly tells you he wants to marry you? It’s scary.”

The tension was running high and thick between the two of you as you both took in the information and let it sink in.

“Look, the point is, I didn’t say it as in… I’ll do it today or tomorrow, or even six months from now,” Javier tried to close the topic. “I meant it as in… this is something that I want to do somewhere along the line. If—if you want to, of course.”

“So this is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’re talking about our future together like it’s a surefire thing, like it’s settled that we’re gonna end up together.”

Javier frowned, staring at you puzzled.

“I thought it was a surefire thing,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile flustered, the idea of you and him together till the end—whatever that one may be—offering you a warm and cozy sentiment that you did not want to rid yourself of.

“Tell you what,” you added. “If we live through this hell, if we make it out alive… ask me again then.”

Javier cocked an eyebrow at you, having his curiosity awakened, and you smiled flirtatiously. “I might change my mind.”

“Deal.”

The dancing stopped, and now you were staring at him with an unbelievable hunger, product of the previous torment, and Javier easily read through it.

“Still angry?” he muttered in your ear, doing everything possible to not press kisses down your neck.

“Not so much.”

“I kinda miss our angry moments.”

“You mean when we were hate fucking.”

Javier shrugged, arms around your waist. He felt his body being boiled alive, but that was the usual sentiment whenever he was around you.

“I could be angry if I think back to Julia trying to steal something that’s not hers.”

“Were you afraid I was gonna hold her like this and run my hand down her back—”

He did exactly that, hand moving down your spine, tantalizingly slow, and gently squeezing your ass, leaving you perplexed and, indeed, fuming.

“—and press her against me, wishing I’d slide myself inside of her and make her scream my name—”

“Stop.”

Javier grinned, clearly enjoying the moment.

“You are jealous.”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Peña.”

“Oh, fuck you calling me Peña like it doesn’t turn you on to say it.”

The spark in his eyes was no longer kind. It was savage and hungry like yours, and you grew more impatient as you held onto his broad shoulders.

“Take me home,” you told him, voice dark and dominated by desire.

Javier leaned in to nibble at your earlobe and whisper to you, “I’m gonna eat you out until you feel nothing else but me, and I’m gonna fuck all of your frustration out. Does that sound good?”

Speechless and oh, so deliriously wet, you stared at him, mentally undressing him already. “Take me home now.”

previous | next

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (5/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

Part Summary: Colson and Y/N talk over coffee and Colson shows her a hint of what it’s like to be a part of his world. 

Masterlist

The Starbucks in the courtyard has since emptied out with everyone having to return to work after their breaks. Colson and I are two of the only remaining people inside. My hands are wrapped around cup, it’s nice and warm. I had to remove the lid to cool down the substance. We’ve been going back and forth, sharing facts about ourselves. 

"Have you always wanted to be an actress?” 

Studying the dark brown drink in my cup I recall memories from before I moved here.“No, in all honesty. I never saw myself as an actress.” 

He doesn’t try to hide his surprise. His stunned reaction makes me giggle. 

"If you don’t mind me asking, why do you do it then?” 

I sway my head from side to side. “It sorta just worked out. I was out shopping with my mom one day when I was in high school. Nicole approached us. She was in town on business and encouraged me to at least visit Los Angeles so we could set up a meeting. The next thing I knew I was in auditions and I got my part on The Seasons of Life a few months later.” 

“Wow,” his brows remain raised as he glances down at his drink. “If you weren’t acting what would you be doing?”

Sitting up straight, I remember what I once thought was my dream life. “First I would go to college and…” I wave my hand, dismissing the thought. 

Colson presses for me to say it. “you’d what? Come on!” He chuckles, grinning brightly. 

Rolling my eyes, I tell him. “I’d go to art school.” I bite my lip timidly. “Yeah... that would be nice.” I pick at the cardboard wrap on the cup. 

There’s a comfortable silence between us until I change the subject. “Enough about me! What about you? If you weren’t a singer, where would be right now?” 

He looks over in the distance, almost envisioning where his life would be. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he shrugs but is pleased, “I’ve always loved music. Being in music allows me to do what I love.” 

I nod, almost impervious of him and his contentment. 

“However,” he adds pointing at me. “If it were up to my parents, I would have some office job probably.” 

"Eh, those jobs are so bland. I vote you stick to concerts," I giggle. 

He laughs and it’s contagious. 

My gaze lands on his arm as he reaches for his coffee. His entire arm is covered in ink. I was taught by my parents to despise tattoos. My mom would say, “why would anyone ever be willing to damage their body like that?” Finn jumped on that bandwagon. Whatever Mom says is considered fact to him. For the longest time, I agreed with them. That is until I met Colson. He was made to have tattoos. 

 I’ve seen many people in this city with tattoos but his aren’t just markings for the body, they’re art. 

“Which one are you interested in?” He questions, watching me as I admire them. 

“All of them,” I mumble, examining each one individually in awe. 

Back where I’m from tattoos are frowned upon quite frankly. When you grow up in a place no different than Pleasantville, that’s what you get. Especially, in South Carolina. 

“Do you have any?” He asks with amusement in his voice. 

I shake my head rapidly, “never in a million years!” Comprehending how he could take my response as an insult I’m quick to explain. “I mean, I would never be allowed.” 

His brows scrunch together. "Never been allowed? You’re an adult. Who’s stopping you?” 

I can’t help but snicker a little. If only it was as simple as he makes it sound. “My parents, brother, Nicole, Steph..." 

Colson narrows his eyes at me as he leans forward in his chair. “You’re your own person. You should be able to make your own decisions.” His argument is lacking and quite frankly too optimistic. 

“It’s complicated…” My eyes fall onto my fingers picking at the cardboard rim of my coffee cup. 

“If you say so… except all of them are keeping you from expressing yourself.” 

I roll my eyes as my lips form a smirk. It’s unbelievable, he makes everything sound so black and white. “You’ll never understand,” I conclude. 

“I understand more than you think.” 

Lifting my eyes up, he stares at me with a sincere expression. 

“Prove it,” I challenge him. 

Based on the change of his features, I have given him exactly what he wants.

"If you say so, Princess," he chuckles, rising from his chair. I stare at him in confusion and he offers me his hand. "You coming?" 

I smirk, slipping my hand into his. He grins and bites down on his lower lip. I'm going to regret this. 

_______________________________________________

Driving around with a guy I’m only acquainted to is completely unlike me. Everyone who knows me would be beyond freaked out at the current scene. It's kind of riveting. 

“We’ve been driving for almost an hour," I snicker. 

“It’ll be worth it, trust me!” 

“Where exactly are we going?” 

“The mystery is half the fun!” Colson enjoys the antics. 

I reach forward and change the radio station. Yungblud's "Parents" plays and I leave it. "Love this song," I mumble to myself. 

Colson glances over me, evidently surprised. "You know Dom's music?" 

"What? Just because you view me as a 'goody-two-shoes' doesn't mean I live under a rock." I giggle and hold my finger for him to wait a second. He chuckles. I begin to rap the lyrics from memory. "Yeah, the teacher fucked the preacher. But then he had to leave her. Had to wash away the sins of a male cheerleader. Hi, nice to meet ya, got nothing to believe in. So let me know when my breathing stops!" 

Colson turns up the volume to blasting and we then shout the chores together. I can’t remember the last time I had the chance to drive with the windows down, blasting music, and acting my age. I’ve forgotten what’s it like to just be a young girl, not working all the time. 

Once the song fades out, he turns down the volume. 

"So, she can rap too!" Colson looks at me, rather impressed. 

I dismiss his compliment with a wave of my hand. "Only if I've listened to a song a dozen times." 

"Not gonna lie, that was hot," he chuckles. 

Warmth rushes to my cheeks and I struggle not to smile. My head rests against the window as I watch the ocean become a blur as we drive down the PCH. 

_______________________________________

Colson drives down the road until there’s a dead end. To my surprise and then confusion, he parks the car. 

“We’re here!" He announces before jumping out of the car. 

There’s nothing here. Bushes, sad-looking trees, and dirt. I watch as he walks over to a clearing between some bushes. 

He peers over his shoulder. “You coming?” 

I take a deep breath and swing open the door. Following him to wherever we are, I spot a sign. 

                                   No Trespassing! 

“Hey Colson, that sign said no trespassing. We should go back.” 

He doesn’t even slow down as he walks down a weak path. “I’ve seen it, they never do anything.” 

With every passing moment, this road trip becomes more and more out of my comfort zone. Nicole and my entire team for that matter have guided me to prefer the indoors these past few years. I can’t remember the last time I spent an entire day outside in nature or not following a schedule. 

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel when the brush ends and the path opens up to a clearing. The sound of waves hitting the cliff before us echoes throughout the area. 

I cautiously step closer to the edge and look down to the bottom. “Wow!” I say to myself breathlessly. 

Colson peers down to the shoreline beside me. He then suddenly removes his jacket and moves on to his shirt. 

My jaw drops and I quickly direct my attention to the coastline far from him. I bring my hand to the side of my face shyly, blocking my sight of him undressing. “What the hell are you doing?” 

He chuckles behind me. I’m glad he can find so much amusement in my discomfort. “Cliff diving!” He says a matter of factly. 

“What! No you couldn’t! It’s illegal in these parts! You could get killed!” 

“Or, I’ll jump, have loads of fun and do it again!” He debates. 

I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Fine, you live out your death wish. I won’t be participating!” Whipping around and avoiding even sharing a short glance with him, I stomp toward the direction we came. 

He drops his shirt on top of his jacket in the grass and jogs to catch up to me. He squeezes my shoulder, using the other hand to plea with me. I whip my head around to face him. That's when I notice his tattoo-covered chest. 

“Oh let’s do it, Princess!" He encourages. "It’ll be thrilling! An adventure! Reckless! Something different!” 

Did he just call me Princess? No one has ever called me that and he has twice now. 

Colson takes my hand into both of his and I’m thrown off by the action.  “Be spontaneous with me,” he requests softly. 

Currently, I’m debating with myself. The youthful part of me is screaming ‘hell yes! Let’s do this!’ The businesswoman part of me is wiser than to take such a risk. I check over at the edge again. My willingness to do such a rebellious action is new to me. There’s no one here to see us. Paparazzi isn’t around to take pictures. Perhaps the cause of my newfound bravery is because of him. 

I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay, let’s do it.” 

As if he already knew I would eventually accept, his grin only grows. 

“Well then, I suggest you strip unless you prefer to sit around like a wet dog for the hour ride back.” He winks at me, biting his lower lip. 

In a normal case, I would be insulted by such a forward request but considering where we stand I find it humorous. After thoroughly checking the area for any cameras or strangers, I slip my dress over my head then kick off my wedges. An odd feeling stirs in my stomach and my heart is pounding. My comfort zone is shot to hell. 

Tossing my hair up in a ponytail, Colson scans my appearance. 

“Excuse me Mr. Baker, it’s not nice to stare,” I tease, yanking at my finished ponytail to tighten it. 

Unfazed, he snaps out of it and faces the shore. His hair wisps around in the breeze, falling over his face. The perfect strands are just as light as his eyes. His jawline could cut a diamond. His skin, as smooth as porcelain but covered in various tattoos. 

“Excuse me Miss Voss, it’s not nice to stare,” he repeats my words back to me. 

I snap out of my daze. “Wasn’t staring,” I argue, now turning towards the coast. 

“Nothing to be ashamed of, I know I'm hot.” His lips curve into a loose smirk. 

My time with him is often one big eye roll. I slowly approach the edge of the cliff, peering over. 

“Nervous?” He checks, looking down at the water for himself. 

“Nope." I lie. 

“Scared?” 

“No.” 

“Have you jumped from a cliff before?” 

I exhale deeply. “No.” 

He shifts his body to face me and I flicker my eyes to the side to meet his gaze. 

“And you’re not afraid?” He checks. 

“Not at all,” I admit without hesitation. 

He snickers, whether it be because he’s impressed or he doesn’t believe me. “How come?” 

I shrug, a brief hum for an answer escaping me. “The unknown doesn’t scare me, only challenges me… and I love a challenge,” I wink with a sly grin. 

His warm hand interlocks with mine and I nearly yank mine away yet because of the non-threatening look in his eyes, I stay. In fact, a part of me likes the feeling of his large hand in mine. It makes me feel safer than I have in quite some time. 

“On three” he exhales, staring off into the distance. 

I nod. 

“One," he counts. “Two...”

I exhale. I can't believe I'm doing this! 

"Three!" Colson shouts. 

I jump. Out of instinct, I squeeze Colson’s hand tighter. My voice travels in a scream as the two of us fall towards the crystal blue surface. He was right, this is such a rush! We torpedo into the water and the cold temperatures engulf me. Colson and I lose touch at some point then I kick to the surface. Wiping the excess water from my face, Colson pops up from under the water in front of me. Somehow even when wet and disheveled his hair still appears effortlessly pristine. 

“Wasn't that a rush!” His arm snakes around my waist. 

A part of me is begging for me to protest but I suppress that part of me. Instead, I rest my arms over his shoulders. He takes the opportunity to guide my legs around his waist. Shading my eyes from the sun with my hand I measure the height of where we jumped. 

Still struggling to catch my breath, I can’t help but smile widely. “It was a one-time opportunity!” 

“That’s up to you to decide!” he argues wittily. 

I lower my hand and his blue eyes see right through me. My eyes flicker down to his lips and impulsively, I slam my lips to his. I'm not sure what comes over me, but I needed to kiss him. Colson wastes no time, bringing a hand behind my head, deepening the kiss. We break apart only to catch our breath. 

“I believe you’ll prove to be a bad influence,” I say lightheartedly but between the lines with the utmost seriousness. 

“That depends on how you look at it,” he argues, his breathing inconstant.

Hungrily, he brings his lips back to mine and I melt into it. Colson is everything that’s bad for me. He’s an indulgence that’s disguising itself as a need. He’s toxic and I’m ignoring the warnings. The warmth of his palm radiates onto my face as he cups it. 

Against my lips, he grins. “You were spontaneous! Always be spontaneous!” His words, nearly sounding like a beg, settle in me. 

His crystal blues eyes stare into mine and I can’t help but be addicted. I'm falling for a fairytale.

________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @canyoubuymetoast​ @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa56 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxrl @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresixx @thysagclub​ @hockeybabe87​

[deltas-writing-corner]

Tsukumo Yuki relationship headcanons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Tsukumo Yuki x reader

Author note: Tsukomo Yuki is the reason I love woman and she can crush me between her thighs send tweet

Warnings: Potential manga spoilers (?) | Mentions of s*x, but nothing too blatantly explicit. I would still prefer it if minors did not interact with this post in any way.

Yuki always asks the people she meets what type of woman they like. If someone were to ask that same question back to her, she’ll most certainly utter back your name as if it were an obvious response.

What’s not to love about you? You’re cute. You make her laugh. You cook for her because heaven knows she can't if her life depended on it. Most importantly, you keep her company due to the lack of curses she’s ever sent to exorcise. Traveling the world is fun and all, but it’s even more fun with you by her side!

You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t even see curses. Yuki is a childhood friend of yours and has kept you in the loop regarding the world of jujutsu sorcery since she started integrating into it. She thinks it’s important for you to know that someone like you, a non-curse user who has no control over the curse energy you create, should know what exactly your negative emotions can lead to. It’s not to make you feel bad or pin blame on you in any way. It’s her way of protecting you beyond physical means as well as a way of showing you that she places a great deal of trust in you regarding the nature of her line of work and her true goals.

Because she rejects the methods of the higher-ups and her ideology is more along the lines of putting an end to the creation of curses permanently instead of letting them manifest and dealing with them when they start causing profound trouble, you’re often the one that has to listen to all her new, sometimes overreaching, hypotheses now and then. You may even take part in her research, but she would never put you in any sort of harm! At least, not unless you give her the okay to. Be warned, if you give your blessing to be her little lab rat she’s prone to get carried away with her methods. Speak up if she’s doing something outrageous or if she’s making you uncomfortable. Otherwise, you might end up in some precarious situations.

As mentioned previously, Yuki isn’t sent out on missions that often, if ever. She instead chooses to travel in and out of the country, for the sake of her research as well as for the pleasure of it. Since she’s one of three, later four, special grade sorcerers her salary is rather tremendous. Unfortunately, her travels outside Japan are “unauthorized” and sometimes her funds get frozen by the higher-ups. Her quick solution to the matter is to fly back, take on a mission or two to get her funds unfrozen (and into your account because you’re her partner-in-crime) or even take on a mission to earn some more funds, and then you and her are right back to traveling the world again.

During one of these money replenishing heists, she met a kid that she took a particular interest in and wanted to mentor, Aoi Todo. It’s hard for most people to spark her interest to the extent Todo did, so you happily supported her endeavors and even met with her young pupil a few times throughout the years. Her methods of training are a bit....extreme, to put it lightly. You understand that holding back her punches will only hinder Todo’s progress instead of allowing him the ability to improve and push past his limits, but you can’t help but flinch over the large scar that marks his face whenever you briefly meet up with him.

Todo is eccentric, but so is Yuki. Perhaps not idol obsessed like Todo, but seeing the way he takes great care of his appearance and flaunts his body (during a battle even), he’s a near-identical clone of Yuki. She knows that she’s good-looking, and she will always flaunt this fact to anyone with working eyes, even you! Does it work every single time? Yes. Yes, it does.

Honestly, how can it not? She’s tall. She has a great butt. She drives a motorcycle. Her tight biker pants are your Achilles heels and she knows it. Sometimes she’ll wear them around the house just to flaunt her curves and other bodily goods, even if it’s the middle of the summer, the AC is broken and the pants are made of stuffy leather material. If it gets your face all heated up, she'll wear it.

The compliments she gets from strangers are nice and all, but it’s your reactions she truly cares about. You’ve been by her side through it all. You're still sticking with her even despite the fact that she’s constantly moving around and living a somewhat free-spirited lifestyle. You genuinely support and help her when almost everyone else has rejected her methods and ideals and brush her off as some lazy, outrageous-thinking woman. Really, you stole this woman’s heart just by letting her be herself, a lazy, outrageous-thinking woman.

Yuki is indeed lazy, to the point it sometimes affects you and your shared apartment is left in a week-long accumulated mess. I’m talking clothes strewed about and spilling out the already full laundry basket, sink filled with dirty dishes, houseplant half dead due to insufficient watering, and little dusty bunnies in the corner of the room. Whenever you try to get around to getting your living space in order, she always drags you back to the bed with her either to nap some more or for a quick round of sex that leads to more napping. Eventually, you have to beat her with a pillow and threaten her with no sex for a certain period of time to get her to back off, which always works without fail.

If you really hold the “no sex until...” ultimatum over her head long enough, she’ll even pitch in and help you clean. But to be honest she kinda sucks at it so it’s sometimes better to just have her sit on the sidelines while you do all the work. She’ll jokingly suggest you clean with just an apron on (because she’s a freak like that), but you haven’t taken her up on the suggestion just yet. It’s mostly because you’ll use the “naked apron” method to further insinuate her punishment if your usual threat begins to lose its potency (because you are also a freak like that).

She’s a bad sleeping partner. Not only does she hog all the blankets and pillows, but she even stretches out her limbs over the entire bed. This usually leaves you curled up in a corner shivering your ass off until you either fall asleep via exhaustion or move to the couch. If you go to the couch, she’s 99.9% likely to wake up and join you shortly after, where she’s less of a hassle to deal with because of the limited space.

She’s a great big spoon, which is actually one of the ways you later use to solve her troublesome habits as once she latches onto you, she will not let go the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, she also snores terribly loud, but it’s nothing earbuds can’t fix.

Some might think she sleeps in something flattering, maybe even a bit scanty. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Her pj’s are decades-old shirts and gym shorts that she never got around to getting rid of. If not that, she’ll sleep completely naked and she doesn’t care if someone walks in on her with the covers off. She’ll only ever wear lingerie or other promiscuous pieces of clothing if she has intentions of getting between your legs and rocking your world for the rest of the night.

I think it goes without saying that she looks great in lace, but as hot as she may look, she really likes seeing you dressed up in something risque as well.

If you’re female, she sometimes likes to wear matching lingerie sets with you, but her favorite material to see you in is leather, especially those harness-styled sets that squeeze your flesh all around.

If you’re male, she’s a complete sucker for a man in a clean-cut, custom-tailored suit and will take it off as soon as you put it on. Hope you don’t mind losing a button or two, because she will pop them off for sure when she rips your dress shirt off of you.

To all my gender-neutral folks, It’s never too late to whip out that naked apron I mentioned earlier! Or a leather jacket. Everyone looks great in a leather jacket!

Yuki’s diet is fucking terrible. You’re a decent cook, but despite this, all she ever seems to want is greasy take-out food that makes you wonder how the hell she’s still so fit after witnessing her down three chicken burritos in one sitting. Even when the two of you are abroad and are able to try out different types of cuisines not so readily available in Japan, she’ll still want to go out to a fast food joint that you can easily find everywhere. You’ve tried to get her to branch out of her comfort zone and eat somewhat healthier alternatives of her favorite foods, but so far you’ve gotten mixed results.

In summary: Yuki is a pretty outgoing person and sometimes can be a bit of a hassle to deal with, but she’s clearly ambitious and moves to the tune of her own beat. Her goal of finding and effectively eliminating the source of all curses is a testament to the fact that she wants to save future generations from having to carry the burden sorcerers have been carrying for thousands of years. Her goals are not only for the sake of the people who will come after her, but also for the sake of her future with you. You’re someone she genuinely cares for and wishes to spend the rest of her life with, evident by the numerous times she’s come clean to you about her fears of you dying when she isn't around to protect you or of her dying and leaving you behind to mourn during late-night pillow talks in hotels or in your shared home. A future where you and her can travel the world and truly take in and enjoy the sights and wonders instead of searching for an answer to one of the world’s greatest phenomenon is a future worth fighting for, even if she’s met with some pushback or the end goal seems like nothing more than a pipedream at times. So long as you’re there with her to see her research bear fruit, she’ll keep testing and coming up with new methods to eliminate curses permanently, no matter the extremes her research takes her to.

[dapandapod]

Hehe I'm gonna spam you

33 with lambden? 🥺 Lambert being hugged for the first time ever, or the first time in a very long while (since he last saw Aiden)

33. the hug from that one person who is allowed to hug you

Feel free my sweet! This accidently got a bit sad, with all the canon pains I could fit into it, but not as sad as it could have gotten. But there be hug!! And thank you @kuripon for doing a beta read for me, you are the best! Enjoy <3

Warnings: Canon typical violence and swearing, implied loss of Aiden but not to worry, no permanent harm will come to my boy. Take care!

Send me a hug prompt! On Ao3! Hug collection here

Lambert doesn’t have a good relationship with skin to skin contact. One way or another, it has always connected to pain.

Be it in a past life, where his father took out his rage and disappointment in the world on those he was supposed to love the most.

Be it the place that didn’t let him protect his family and put him through torture he barely survived.

Be it by the hand of a lover, who would accept coin to carve another mark into his skin.

There is no logical reason to let anybody close enough, not for a quick fuck or even a brotherly clasp of arms. There is nothing to gain from another body against his, except for the most temporary of sensations.

Lambert always took pride in his honesty. He doesn’t fear voicing his thoughts, the feelings he is told he doesn’t have. There is no point in softening his words. The one thing that Lambert appreciates most from others is their respect and their truth.

Many people don’t like Lambert. Too many sharp edges and blunt words. But someone he could never get rid of was Aiden. He is a Cat witcher, and there are enough jokes about cats and dogs to understand where this is going.

Aiden isn’t scared off. Aiden doesn’t leave. Aiden doesn’t take it personally when Lambert is fed up with all the bullshit around him.

It is… odd, and strangely comforting. The one person that can match him step for bloody step, the one man who can turn a prank into a crime.

Lambert isn’t shy with admitting his thoughts. Maybe he doesn’t tell Aiden to his face that he is the best man he has ever met, but it’s a near thing.

But not as near as Aiden keeps standing, sitting, sleeping next to him. Young witchers could fall asleep mid wrestle and still not be as close as Aiden is at all times.

At first, Lambert loathes it. Skin on skin contact, then you have let them too close, and by then, you are already dead. A hand on the back of his neck, by his elbow. Shoulder bumps, knees pressing together, clapping on the back.. it never ends.

They spend a lot of time together, however, and Lambert more or less gets used to it. He allows it, sometimes even initiating the touch.

But winter comes and Aiden is called away. It is too late in the year to make it to Kaer Morhen, so he is stuck. He finds a town big enough to flit between taverns and inns without raising too much suspicion, but he hates it.

Some people fancy a taste of danger and more than once, Lambert has to fend off people approaching him for a quick roll in the hay.

This is when he realizes he has changed. Their hands stray, yes, more than he has ever allowed hands to stray without a reason before. But it doesn’t feel right, and he doesn’t want them in his bed, or himself in theirs.

Come spring, Aiden’s hand on his shoulder is a relief, his shoulder against his back as he laughs too loudly.

Come spring, Lambert learns a new way to show affection. The word in itself makes him shiver in distaste, but he can’t find any other word that fits well enough.

Come spring, Lambert is crawling out from some mines infested with Endrega warriors with a big gash in his leg. When he wobbles, he thinks Aiden means to catch him, but instead of steadying him and then letting go, Aiden steps into his space.

He is too tired to protest, the toxins clouding his mind and adrenaline making his hands shake. Aiden drops his sword and then guides Lambert's head to lay on his shoulder. Gently, he pries Lambert’s own sword out of his white knuckled grip, and he arranges them around his own hips.

Aiden puts his arms around Lambert's shoulders and back, pulling him close to take most of his weight.

“Neat, huh?” Aiden says, voice low and calm. “A trick I learned from a prostitute in Vizima a few years back. She called it an embrace.”

“I know what a hug is, Aiden,” Lambert snarks, heart doing all kinds of acrobatics in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s all the potions, Aiden's proximity or if he is just dying, but something is up.

“Have you ever had one?” Aiden asks knowingly, and that shuts Lambert up. “I find it calms you down a bit after you get used to it.”

“Hmm.” Oh no, he sounds like Geralt. “Fuck.” Better.

“I know, right? I didn’t trust her at all, and rightly so it would turn out, as she sent the witch hunters on me after I paid, but that embrace really did wonders for my blood pressure.”

“You have perfect control of your blood pressure.”

“Exactly.”

Eventually, they have to let go. There are unnerving sounds of movement still in the mines, so Lambert decides to drop a bomb on their asses, and hopefully close the entrance well behind them.

After that they have to go collect payment, find a room, or at least a place to camp for the night. The innkeeper claps his hand on Lambert's shoulder, and it is not only because of the bruise that he makes a face and pulls away.

They do manage to get a room, just the one, but with two beds at least, not the kind they have to share with four others.

With no more potions clouding his mind, and no more enrega warriors crawling about, Lambert sits on the edge of his bed, fiddling with one of his daggers. He feels restless, even a little nervous, and he can’t stop thinking how for the first time ever, being close to someone made him feel safe.

“Hey, Aiden?”

Aiden turns around, his face cleaner now but his hair still standing in every direction. When their eyes meet and Aiden smiles, Lambert knows he is fucked.

“Yes, Lambchops?”

“Could you show me that hug-thing again?”

Aiden’s smile widens, but he doesn’t tease, doesn’t say anything, just stands in the middle of the room, arms open and leaves it to Lambert to come to him.

So he does. Lambert uses the exact same pose as hours before, letting his head drop to Aiden’s shoulder again.

They stand in silence for a long time, and Lambert’s body starts to settle. He realizes he wouldn’t let anyone this close. There are people he trusts with his life that he wouldn’t let hold him like this.

Just like everything else with Aiden, the Cat witcher has to push it. The hands on Lambert's back and shoulders start to move. Small circles, little squeezes. It feels nice.

“You know, this works lying down too. We can sleep like this,” Aiden offers.

“Flirt,” Lambert mutters, but doesn’t let go.

It is hard for Lambert to disassociate skin to skin contact with pain. If a witcher lets his guard down too much, that witcher will be no more.

Hugs, or as Aiden insists on calling them, embraces, are rare, often after a rough contract or a near death experience.

The worst part is not having to endure the pain to get that one rare treat.

The worst part is losing it.

The first time Lambert ever initiates a hug is when he finds Aiden again, after many long, cold, and lonely years. He is a different person, a little broken and rough around the edges.

Lambert has never loved him more.

[melzula]

Fire Lilies

pairing: Zuko x princess!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, forbidden lovers au

notes: this is my first zuko piece and also my first atla piece ever so pls excuse the fact that it’s a little clunky 🥺 this isn’t really canon to the show but the reader is princess of the southern Water Tribe and a water bender. also this may or may not have been inspired by the secret tunnel song... anyway, i may make a part two to this but for now enjoy!

summary: “Two lovers forbidden from one another. A war divides their people.”

Tensions between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes had never been higher, and the possibility of war was a continuous threat that loomed over both nations. Constant efforts of parley and council meetings proceeded throughout the years, but neither side could ever seem to reach an agreement both deemed satisfactory. As chief of the Southern Water Tribe, such negotiations seemed to weigh heavily upon your father’s shoulders, and despite being the crowned Princess there was nothing you could do to help him.

“A council of negotiations is no place for a princess,” he would remind you every time you attempted to give your own insight and opinion on the troubles your people faced. Your father would leave you then in the care of your mother and your handmaidens, an apologetic kiss placed upon your forehead before his departure.

“The council is overrated anyway,” you would huff in an attempt to conceal your disappointment and annoyance at the unfairness of it all, “it’s just a bunch of angry old men who are too stubborn to set aside their differences for the sake of peace.”

And yet despite your renouncement of such a meeting, you always found yourself sneaking away from home and towards the council chambers where the negations often took place. Your people believed that women held no place in war, only meant to be gentle hands and spirits that served and guided their people. Such expectations were set even higher for Princesses, and so you were restricted to activities such as practicing your healing and providing aid to your people. You loved your tribe with all of your heart, but you found the traditions they practiced rather... well, for lack of a better term, stupid. You could be doing so much more to help if only your father would let you participate.

The stars are bright on this particular evening, a glimmer of hope that hangs over the dark blacks and reds of the Fire Nation ships arriving at the docks; it’s the southern tribe’s turn to host the meeting. You can’t see much from where you stand other than the outlines of the soldiers, guards, officials, and the royal family, but you know for a fact that the minacious figure leading the procession is none other than Fire Lord Ozai. You’d only ever crossed paths with the man once when you were four, and it had purely been an accident on your part, but you knew that if you hadn’t been the Chief’s daughter you would definitely have marks to show for the encounter.

Considering the fact that you’re the only Princess and heir to the throne, it’s surprisingly easy scaling down your balcony and sneaking off into the night without a second thought. Though you found the underestimation of women in your tribe extremely insulting, the “helpless princess” front sure kept suspicions off your back. The nation is quiet with everyone either tucked inside for the night or present at the meeting, and there is no one to stop you from hiding yourself amongst the shadows outside the meeting hall and taking a peek inside.

Various political figures sit at the long table, your father and the Fire Lord sitting at opposite ends. The atmosphere is heavy and thick, the air silent as each side dare’s the other to speak first, and perhaps part of you is glad that you don’t have to sit through such a meeting.

“What are you doing?” A voice calls, and you’re grateful for the fact that you’re able to contain your startled gasp so as to not blow your cover. You whirl around with a murderous glint in your eye and the intent to blast whoever almost gave you away with an icy cold wave of water, but your demeanor changes in an instant as you realize who the voice belongs to.

“Zuko!” You squeal, all caution thrown to the wind as you fling yourself into his arms. The sheer force of your impact sends you both toppling back onto the snow, but the prince can’t help the laugh that leaves him as he winds his arms tightly around your waist.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you missed me,” he teases. The two of you sit up from the ground once you release him, and he watches with a fond smile as you carefully brush the snow off of his clothing.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come. Things have been so tense.”

“You know I’ll always come see you,” Zuko comforts before pressing a delicate kiss to your temple. Your relationship with the Fire Nation prince was a complicated one, but there was no denying the love you two shared.

You had first met when you were four and Zuko was five. Originally you were meant to be a playmate for Princess Azula, but she had made it clear that she would much rather torment the white hamsters than spend her time pretending to be your friend. It was Zuko who took interest in your companionship, sledding on the otter penguins with you during the day and sharing secrets at night.

“Princesses aren’t allowed to water bend, but sometimes when no one’s looking I practice my combat skills,” you had told him. “I can also do cool tricks.”

“Really? Like what?”

Zuko watched in awe as you used the water in the air to swirl the snowflakes that fell from the sky into the shape of a butterfly, delicately flapping its wings so that it landed on tip of the young prince’s nose. Joyful laughter escaped him at the sensation, and it was then at four years old that you knew the Fire Nation boy would always hold a special place in your heart.

You kept your courting a secret for the sake of making things less complicated for the both of you. It wasn’t necessarily against the rules for the two of you to be together, but it was just easier to keep it to yourselves. Keeping politics and prying eyes away from your relationship was what made it so strong; you weren’t the Fire Prince and the Water Tribe Princess when you were together, you were simply Zuko and y/n. And it was nicer that way.

“Close your eyes, I have a surprise for you,” Zuko smiles, rolling his eyes at the way your eyebrows immediately furrow in protest. “Just do it.”

With a reluctant sigh you shut your eyes and let out a small hum, waiting for whatever prize may come your way. Something gentle and sweet smelling is placed in your lap, and you open your eyes to see a bouquet of flower lilies resting upon the skirt of your dress.

“Oh, Zuko!” You gasp, picking the bundle up and admiring the beautiful petals. “They’re gorgeous.”

“I knew you’d like them,” he grins. “There aren’t many flowers around here.”

“The snow prevents anything from growing,” you agree with a small smile. “You’re so thoughtful.”

“Anything for the Princess.”

“I love you,” you profess, sighing happily as his lips meet your own in a tender kiss. Times like these were few and far between considering you both came from opposite sides and only saw each other once a month, so you liked to savor the feeling for as long as you could. However, your moment of bliss ended much sooner than you had anticipated.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Your father’s voice bellows from the entryway of the meeting hall. You’re quick to scramble onto your feet and away from Zuko, but the fire lilies are still clutched tightly in your hands.

“Father, I-I can explain,” you begin to say only for him to take hold of you by the elbow and yank you away from a terrified Zuko. The bouquet of flowers falls from your grasp and drops onto the snow.

“How dare you try and soil my daughter!”

“I-I didn’t mean any harm, sir,” Zuko tries to say, “I love and respect your daughter.”

“Love,” your father scoffs. “Fire Nation monsters aren’t capable of love. They only bring pain and heartache wherever they go. For as long as I live I never want to see you near her again, is that clear?”

“Father, you can’t!” You cry, but the deterrent glare he sends your way has you backing down in an instant. You know better than to argue with him when he has that crazed wide eyed look on his face; your father was a good man and a great chief, but he could be ruthless when it came to his people and his family- especially with you.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko utters quietly, eyes cast downward and refusing to meet your gaze. Fighting your father’s decision would only make things worse, and he doesn’t want you to suffer any more than you have to.

“Now run along child,” your father instructs gruffly, “and don’t come back.”

Zuko takes one last longing look at you, and the pleading you look you give him that begs him not to go has his heart breaking into two. Chances are this is the last time he’ll ever see you again, and he wants to commit the details of your memory permanently to his mind. He wants to remember the curve of your lips and the smoothness of your hair, the red of your cheeks from the cold and the tears that brim at the corners of your sparkling eyes. You are beautiful, ever since you were children he thought so, and in his mind he’d always remember you as the Princess with the snow butterfly and the bouquet of fire lilies.

Tears steadily fall down your face as your father guides you home by the elbow, carelessly stepping on the lilies in his path. They crumple and wither under his boot much like your heart had at his banishment of your beloved Zuko.

“Your mother should have kept a better eye on you,” he mutters harshly, glancing sideways at your trembling form. If he holds any remorse for breaking your heart he doesn’t show it, and it makes you feel all the worse. “It was for your own good, y/n. You may not see that now, but someday you will.”

“What happened to keeping the peace?!” You cry in protest. “I thought you wanted our nations to come together in harmony? Zuko and I are proof that it’s possible!“

“There will be no peace,” is your father’s solemn reply. “The Fire Nation has declared war.”

A small gasp leaves your lips at his confession, your stomach tying itself into knots so tight it almost makes you want to vomit. Your father says nothing more as he hands you off to your nurse maids and orders extra guards to ensure you can’t escape again. Everything feels as if it’s come crashing down upon you, and there isn’t a single thing you can do about it.

Snow begins to fall with the departure of the Fire Nation ships, and your forgotten lilies are suffocated underneath the clean sheets of ice.

*part two

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

This Love

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 11

"Timing is a funny thing"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 6,196

Warnings: angst, nightmares that include: panic attacks/catcall with a light fight, fluff finally!

A/N: I love this song so much! We are so close to the end! I got into a writer's block when I started this chapter, so it took me a while to get to writing it, and in the end it turned out into my favourite chapter that I have written! I hope you'll like it, comments are appreciated! Also, there is a literary reference here, if you notice it you're awesome!

A/N2: thank you @chrissquares for the beautiful dividers! And @nacho-bucky for beta reading!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and YouTube

The darkness in your room was darker than you remembered. Usually when you were awoken in the middle of the night, it was because of Loki.

But now as you realized Loki wasn't in your room, you got up and walked sleepily to the hallway from your room, then you heard it- and you knew that the heavy footsteps you heard on the floor of the living room were not Loki's.

You held your breath, feeling the panic take over you but you refused to let whoever was in there hear your short intake of breath. Padding quickly into the bathroom, you closed the door and locked it.

Then you let yourself breathe.

The beat of your heart was ringing in your ears, you tried to breathe but all you could think about were the possibilities of whoever or even whatever is in your house right now. Loki had told you all about the magic of the universe, but you also saw him getting back from battles with nasty scars and he wouldn't tell you about the creatures that made them.

You looked around the room, which proved to be difficult when your watery eyes blurred your vision.

You forgot your phone, you couldn't call anyone. Fear took over you again, it felt as if you were drowning, your own tears were making you weak and you couldn't seem to control it.

Hiding yourself in the corner of the room, you took the first thing that resembled a weapon and held the hair straightener protectively as you made yourself as small as possible when the sounds outside of the door got louder.

All you wanted was for Loki to show up just in time and get you out of here.

The fear took over you yet again and the door was knocked down. All you saw was a blue creature at your door. You screamed in fear and your vision went dark, all you felt was fear.

•

Loki watched your body lying there motionless besides the minute movements behind your eyelids that he was sure only he and the supersoldiers could see. Doctor Cho and Doctor Banner were running every test they could on you. It wasn't long before they figured out what Hydra did to you.

Barnes was the first one to figure it out. He was stuck inside his own mind for so long, he saw you going through the same thing. But for you, for you they trapped you using your own powers against you. Capturing you and keeping you awake by horrible emotions that you felt.

Loki stood next to you, wiping a tear that escaped down your cheek.

Sitting down at the edge of the white bed you were lying on, he tried to calm his nerves enough to leave his physical form and feel you, feel your powers, search for a way in.

And he found you there, just barely within reach. He could almost touch you, he could feel your powers caressing his own- that was before he was thrown back into his own body with such force that he regretted giving you such powers.

"I gave them to you, and now you won't let me in?" he grumbled and rubbed his eyes. He looked at you bitterly, but no it was not at you but rather your aura that surrounded you, your powers keeping you in place- supposedly trying to keep you safe.

All he wanted to do was to keep you safe, that was why he got here in the first place. He knew though, he knew that this love he has for you will eventually overpower any ancient spell there could be. He couldn't doubt it.

Your love died and was brought alive back from the dead, fate brought you back to him like the tides, and now currents swept you out again from his reach but you said so many goodbyes before that surely you will say hello again. He held onto that hope. Hope was such a ruinous thing, he never dreamed of having it or accepting it into his life.

When he was in the darkest of places, with the most horrid torment being forced upon him- you were the one thing that kept him sane even when you weren't there. You were the permanent mark on his heart that no torture could wipe off.

And now he was sitting right next to you, and he couldn't help ease the torment that you were in.

So he sat next to you, his fingers on your temples as he tried to somehow reach you, if merely for a moment. But all he got was resistance, and he was growing tired.

"Loki? Cho wants to run some tests." He saw the captain standing at the door, the bags under his eyes were dark and noticeable even for a super soldier. "Would you mind joining me?"

The captain tilted his head to outside, and Loki merely nodded.

•

Steve stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows in the common room, waiting as Loki came and looked outside next to him.

He was at a loss of words as they stood there in silence, not knowing how to approach the conversation. Steve knew his backstory, he knew what drove him to attack New York- but he still attacked it. The man who stood next to him was still the man who terrorized earth, brainwashed his friends, killed 80 people in 3 days, and hurt you twice. Steve wasn't there to protect you from the hurt the first time, but he was there the second time when he had to hold you in his arms.

Then you got taken away and Loki came back to help him, to get you back.

"Just say what you want to say, don't mewl it over." Loki simply said in his elegant but impatient voice. Was it impatient now, or nervous?

"Is there any progress in getting through to her?" Steve cleared his throat.

"As of right now, no there isn't. The witch is trying to lower her defenses but even she can't reach her." Loki knew his options, and for the slim chance that you would be okay and take him back- he knew he needed to be on the good side of the captain. He wasn't one to reveal his thoughts and intentions, but he knew the captain means a lot to you, and for you he would do anything. "I am still trying, Captain. I'm not going to stop until… we get her back."

He kept looking forward even when he felt Steve's gaze turning to look at him. He let Steve analyze his words, and then he matched his gaze. It was quiet before Steve spoke up again.

"Thank you."

"I'm certain that if we have one thing in common it's that both of us would do anything for her. I recognize my mistake of leaving her." He leaned away from the window pane when the captain turned to face him.

"While I appreciate the help, Loki, I had to sit with her while she cried after you left her. Hurt her again, and I assure you that not even Thor will be able to protect you from me."

Seeing the dark look in Steve's eyes made Loki want to scoff at Captain America's threat, but he couldn't blame him. Watching you cry the first time almost made him stay.

"I already deserve worse, so I won't fight you if that were to happen." With his hands clasped behind his back he, with certainty, stated. "It won't."

Then he went around the captain back to the room you were in.

•

With a reluctant and a little frightened Helen Cho, Loki brought you back to your room, enchanted the door shut and put your limp form on the bed, with your back on the headboard and your head lightly lulled back onto a pillow he put behind it.

Sitting next to you, he took both of your hands in his and suddenly he got reminded of that fateful night in your apartment when he held you scared in the dark.

He let his green light shine and he saw a soft purple aura surround your body. He closed his eyes and tried to reach you.

Focusing on the feeling of you, touching him with your aura, he let you take his all.

Then your head fell onto his shoulder and he saw you.

You were in a crowded street, walking towards where Loki stood now watching you.

You faltered in your step and looked to your right when you heard the sentence that was uttered by a guy that was half leaning on a red building brick, blocking the passage of a blonde girl who tried to step away from his frame.

"Oh come on, don't play coy, you wouldn't have worn this tight outfit if you didn't want the attention." His smirk disgusted you and you changed your pace to go to where they were standing.

"I told you to go away." She replied to him, but he didn't budge.

"Sweetheart lighten up, I'm complimenting you, so come on got a smile for me?"

"Hey, she told you to back off so back the hell off and stay away from her!" he laughed at you.

"Maybe you should stay out of this conversation, I am talking to the pretty girl here-" he sent a hand to grab her arm but before he could catch it you threw him back and twisted his arm.

"Do not touch her." Your voice was dark, and while Loki didn't know what he was seeing, he couldn't help but smile at your actions. You pushed him back and muttered, "I really wish the worst for you."

Thinking it would get him to go away, you were about to turn to see if the girl was alright when you felt pain in your stomach as the man hit you and threw you onto the curve where people cleared away from the fight. You looked up at him and you felt something different inside you, it was probably the adrenaline. But the second your eyes met his, you watched his eyes go wide and he started to let out screams, they never stopped, you never stopped looking at him. He fell to the floor, curling in on himself and you went to stand up.

The feeling inside you was strange now, you could feel the anger subside and now you watched him still breathing hard on the floor.

"Stop it, stop it- please." He tried to look up at you, your heartbeat sped up and you felt sick- Was he talking to you? He looked up at you and tears were on his face.

You looked around at the people that where watching you and suddenly like dominos they began to sink down onto the floor, crying and shuddering. Your heartbeat got faster with each scream you heard and they only got louder.

"What is happening?" your voice was shaking and you couldn't move.

Loki realized what scene he was looking at in your life, then he watched the girl in the black suit next to you, she seemed to hold her own against the pain that he knew you affected her with and she pulled out a black device. He recognized her, but he knows you didn't so he didn't put his attention on her.

He went back and looked at you, going forward to try and calm you down but before he could touch you, you collapsed on the floor and he was sent back and out of your dream.

"Please stop this, I don't know what's happening." He heard you cry from a distance.

•

Steve sat in the kitchen alone with a cup of hot tea. It was hard for him to see you that way and being so helpless because he couldn't help you. So he tried to stay away. But as he stared down at the mug, he couldn't help but think about the first time he met you.

Steve was walking out of the elevator at the ground floor of the Stark tower with a file in his hand, he looked up and saw four men with weapons surrounding a girl in civilian clothes and Sharon walked with her. When the blonde saw Steve she dismissed the guards and walked towards him with the girl.

Steve studied you now that you weren't blocked from his view. Your y/h/c hair fell lightly on your face and he noticed you keeping your eyes down on the ground even when you were near him already.

"Hey Steve, did you get updated on the new mission?" Sharon asked him and when he nodded she saw him looking at you partially.

"Yeah, I did."

"This is Y/N. Y/N, meet Steve." Steve put out his hand to shake your hand and it took you a moment before you raised your hand to his.

"Hi." You said to him and when you finally looked up at him he sent you a smile.

"What are you doing here with Sharon?" Steve didn't ask about the guards and he tried to maintain eye contact with you, it seems to be a struggle for you.

"Oh, she just-" you looked over at the agent looking for some help but she only nodded at you. "Found me, I accidentally ruined her operation and she took me here to- to help me."

You hated the way your voice stuttered, then again you couldn't really blame yourself, your day took a turn you weren't expecting, you didn't even know what happened.

Steve's eyes proved to be nothing but comforting though.

"Well, is there anything I can help you with?" you began to shake your head and Steve thought he lost you when you looked back at the floor, shutting your eyes for a bit.

Heavy steps came behind Sharon then.

"Agent 13, we need to get the girl to the lab now, she cannot be here." He heard the guard say and saw you flinch momentarily at his voice and the weapon he held. He did not like that reaction.

"Everything is fine here. I'll protect her." He straightened up and looked at the guard.

"She doesn't need protection captain, she needs to be contained." He chuckled but Steve's features stayed stern.

"The captain said we are okay here." Sharon dismissed the guard.

She started to take you away and towards the elevators when Steve stopped her.

"It's alright, I'll walk with you Y/N is that okay?" he smiled when you looked up at him and nodded.

"Yes, thank you Steve." Sharon told you that she will come to check on you in the lab later, and you entered the elevator with Steve.

"Don't you have other stuff you should be doing?" you asked him, breaking the silence and he laughed.

"Maybe, but you seem much nicer."

"He was right though, he was there to protect other people from me."

"Well," he turned to you with a slight smirk. "I don't know what happened but I doubt you are going to hurt me, besides- I'm sure I can take you down myself."

You scoffed at him, suddenly forgetting about what made you end up in this situation.

"Well how can you be so sure? I can be dangerous when I want to be."

"Is that so? I do not think so." You raised an eyebrow.

"What if I am a super assassin? You can't know!"

"I'll still win."

"Oh fuck off." You huffed at him but a small smile played on your lips.

"Language!" he said and silence took over the small elevator as you looked at him in shock and he looked at you, before you started laughing at him, unable to control yourself.

Steve let himself smile a bit as you laughed beside him.

•

You didn't know where you were. All you knew was the pain in your heart and the rain drenching you as water surrounded you. You were drowning and it was never ending.

The wet wood of the ship floor under you turned ever so darker in the midst of the storm and rain. You looked around you only to see nothing but rushing waves you tried to shout for help but it came out as silent screams with the sound of the thunder, the sinking ship you were trapped on tilted to the side as you tried to get to the top of the deck.

You clung to the closest wooden poll you could find, trying to get to the figurehead on the deck when the ship rattled and tilted as it sank farther.

Then you saw him.

"Loki!" you called out to him, momentary relief flooded you when he showed up just in time. You tried to reach out to him, grab his hand when he offered his hand forward, but it was out of reach.

"Jump to me, I'll catch you." You heard him tell you, you clung to the poll before taking a leap and reaching out as much as you could for him.

But you couldn't reach him, and he let you fall. You didn't know what pained your heart more. But all you felt was pain.

•

Loki lied in your bed. He had taken over it while you were in the med bay for the last couple of days. It wasn't a question, and he was not one to ask permission.

He tried to get some sleep, tossing and turning, there was always a new struggle sleeping through the night when you weren't next to him. He turned to face your side of the bed. You weren't there but he still smiled to the ghost of you. Sometimes in a flicker of light he thought he could see you, but you were still gone.

You were laying in bed with Loki, turning out the lights and then jumping back on the bed, getting under the covers and cuddling to Loki, putting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"So, you still haven't answered me."

"My response is clear then." He shrugged off and you playfully slapped his shoulder.

"I am really asking, we have been dating for a long time now and my birthday is soon so don't you think I deserve it?"

"You can't play the birthday card with me, darling." He chuckled into your hair and planted a kiss there. "How do you even remember that? It was so long ago and it is just nonsense."

"You said that you will take me one day for a ball in Asgard, now I am taking you on your word. That silver tongue of yours that got you me will also be the one to take you down. I want an Asgardian ball." You poked his chest

"I said that I will one day, I did not specify when, so I am well within my rights to turn your request down, darling. You should know better than to argue with a trickster god." He poked your side which made you giggle. "We have an eternity together, why rush it?"

You looked up at him and the love in his eyes seemed to glow in the dark room. You only smiled at him.

"What's in that pretty little head of yours, petal?" he stroked your arm and looked down at you.

"I feel like I'm falling in love with you all over again." You whispered.

"You're already in love with me." He chuckled and nudged his nose with yours.

"I fell in love with you once, I can and will fall in love with you again." He couldn't help the grin on his face, oh the things you did to him.

"Well then, I'll always catch you when you fall."

•

Loki was back where he started, in the cold med bay. He wasn't cold of course but he saw the goose bumps on your skin.

"I'll get you out of there, petal." He brushed his thumb across your cheek when yet another tear slipped.

He leaned in to kiss your cheek before he cradled your face in his hands, focusing on your energy yet again.

You were in your apartment with your head down as you listened to Loki talk more and more.

"I just can't understand why are you leaving me like this?" you lifted your teary gaze to look at him, but he was cold.

"Mortals are so naïve," he darkly huffed at you. "Did you really think you meant something to me? Pathetic."

"We had such a good time together, you're my best friend, my lover and I-"

"I am none of those, it was simply interesting to study the humans, to pass the time with one of them. But you're not interesting anymore."

"So, you're just throwing me away? You promised you'll stay with me!" you sniffed, trying to wipe the tears away but they just kept pouring. He was breaking your heart like all the other promises he made and you couldn't find any emotion in his eyes. "Have you ever even loved me?"

"No." it was a simple word, and you hated the small smile on his face. "I'm just being honest with you now, don't you think that is rather kind of me? I am a god after all, and you're just a puny mortal, a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore me and think it is returned."

"You're not being nice, Loki, no. you're just being so casually cruel in the name of being honest." You fell to your knees, with a new fresh wave of tears.

Loki stood behind you as he watched all of the things that are being said to you- from him, you think he is saying those things. You were on your knees in front of him, believing he could ever hate you.

You were paralyzed in time, frozen by his words. You couldn't stop the tears, you've never felt this hurt. It felt like the room was filled with invisible smoke.

Then you felt a hand on your shoulder, grabbing you fiercely. You dropped the hands from your face, hopeful Loki will take you back. But when you looked up, he was still standing, sneering at you. You felt a new wave of pain but then the hand on your shoulder tightened and you turned back to see-

"Loki?" your voice was low and it almost broke his heart.

"Yes my love, I'm here you're okay." You turned your head and saw Loki still standing above you.

"I'm sorry Loki, please stay with me, you're all I have." You cried to him, then the hand on your shoulder turned you around fully and you saw Loki yet again, he was crouching down next to you.

"No, don't listen to him. I love you, I'll always love you. You have to believe me, I will get you out of this- you are not alone anymore." You shook your head at his words, your head was feeling fuzzy.

"No, you hate me." You said it with certainty. And Loki had to clench his jaw, he needed to treat this delicately if he wanted to get you out.

"Don't listen to what he said, he is not real. I'm sorry I left you, but it's different now, just let me show you." Loki begged to any gods out there that your powers will let him get through to you and alter them. He put his fingers on your temples, closing his eyes for a second, he focused on you- fighting every barrier your mind was posing in front of him.

When he finally found you, you could suddenly breathe again despite still having a headache. You looked around you and saw you were now in a different living room. You looked back and the other Loki was gone, the only Loki was the one in front of you and looked at you with so many emotions in his blue eyes.

"Loki, what is-" you still felt another pain in your chest and Loki was back at getting through to you.

"Let me show you why this is different," he gestured to all the people you saw laughing and having conversation on the couches in the room. "You have me now, I'm not going anywhere. And you have a family now."

One guy on the sofa suddenly raised his beer towards you and smiled at you.

His name is Steve. You knew him. You smiled back at him a bit.

Then you heard a small laugh followed by a giggle.

Her name is Natasha, and that's Wanda next to her.

New tears streamed down your face.

"I don't understand." You looked to Loki, who was now standing up.

"You have a family now, and you have me and I'll never leave you alone." He extended his hand to you, looking down at where you still sat on the ground. "Come back to me, love."

You kept looking at him, and then back at the people who seemed more and more familiar.

You took his hand and slowly you got up, he was right beside you, holding you up.

Now that you were standing and could see him better, he looked like the Loki you knew, the real one.

"Help me hold onto you." You begged.

"I'll catch you, just come back to me."

With another step you fell forward onto his chest, the next second it was gone and your eyes blew wide when you rose up from the bed you were in.

Before you could get your bearings, still in shock, you felt Loki's comforting embrace take you.

"You came back to me." His voice was but a whisper murmured before he lightly kissed your cheek. You noticed his heaving breath matched your shocked one.

Your mind couldn't wrap up around where you were or what was happening, but all you knew for certain now was that Loki was here with you, holding you, and so you knew you were safe.

•

"So that was all me?" you asked Loki.

He nodded and still kept you close to his chest for comfort, he didn't know whose.

"What they did to you, I assure you they will pay for it. Each and every one of them will know that they should not have laid a single hand on you, my love."

He sealed it with a kiss to your forehead. But you didn't respond to it, still lost in your own head.

"No. It was all me, my powers did that." He took your hand in his and traced circles with his thumb on the back of your palm.

"Your powers are my fault." He admitted, Loki let the feeling of your skin on him ground him before he said the next words, "That night a long time ago, I casted an ancient spell on you- to protect you- but I must have got something wrong or I didn't think about how it would affect a human, and now you got the powers."

"I know, Loki. They used your wand to control my powers so I assumed my Asgardian powers were related to you." You then, to Loki's dismay, lifted yourself up on one elbow and looked sternly at the god in front of you. "You protected me, don't you dare blame yourself. Not even a bit."

You were met with a smile, his clear blue eyes were caressing you softly like water.

"What?"

"I missed you." He leaned up to reach you. "You came back to me."

You looked at your entwined hands.

"You are the one who came back to me, into my life." Loki kissed you shortly when a cough came from the door.

Steve stood there with wide eyes, and his hands clasped together. For his huge form he looked so little. You sent a smile to Loki who reluctantly got up from the bed and walked past the captain.

Once the door was closed Steve rushed to you as you got up from the bed and walked to him, meeting him halfway. He enveloped you in his tight embrace, you wrapped your hands around his neck and let him hold you, and you could feel yourself being slightly lifted from the ground.

You let your tears fall, you didn't know you needed to cry until he hugged you, you missed his comfort.

"I am so glad you're okay, I was so afraid," He said, and you could hear the strain in his voice.

"I was too, but now I'm here." You remembered flashes of what Loki showed you when you were stuck in your head. "I'm home, with my family."

He nodded and pulled you back to look at you.

"You are, of course you are Y/N- you're with me." You smiled, he wiped the tears from your face, and you put your head on his chest. "Kid, you mean so much to me, you know that right?"

"I do, and you mean a lot to me too, old man." He tickled your side and you laughed.

"That is not a way to talk to your elders."

The two of you swayed, you were still cradled in his arms when he broke the comforting silence. You could hear the hesitation in his voice.

"He is okay." You pulled back and looked into his eyes- he was serious.

"Really?" he closed his eyes and nodded with a groan. "I can't believe it- my big brother and my boyfriend getting along. And all I had to do was get tortured."

"Y/N, don't push it." You shrugged him off and went back to use his chest as a pillow.

"Oh give me a break, my ex kidnapped me." You could feel him glaring at you at the comment. "Sorry."

•

After sitting with all of your friends, you went back to your room, not surprised to see Loki lying on your bed, all ready to go to sleep.

"You could've joined us. I heard you and Steve talked. It would have been nice if you were with me." You changed from your clothes, Loki had healed your physical scars already, but you could still feel them.

"I figured you would want time with them, with your family." He stretched a hand out to you as you got onto the bed and under the covers.

"Well, are you-"

"Yes. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." You leaned in to kiss him before settling on your side next to him, facing him.

"You still didn't actually tell me why you left in the first place. You changing colours is not an excuse." You smiled a bit teasingly, his eyes left yours then- afraid of your reaction. "Tell me."

You asked him and he had to obey.

"Just before I left you, right before Thor's coronation,"

"Yeah I remember we talked about it, you said it'll be soon."

"Yes, well I decided to test how worthy he is of being a king, and then it turned into something bigger that I couldn't control and-" he stopped to take a breath, you put a hand on his cold cheek. "Then I found out I am actually a frost giant, a monster. Don't say I'm not, my love, let me finish."

You stayed silent and let him continue, tracing patterns on his skin, where you remembered the markings on his blue skin were.

"After that, I knew I had to let you go- to keep you safe. And with everything that happened afterwards- everything I went through- I don't regret leaving you when I did. It was the right choice."

You tried not to get overwhelmed by the new information he was giving you, and while it hurt- at least he told you, and you could somewhat understand.

"You didn't have to break my heart when you left."

"I'm a monster, Y/N you don't know what my kind is like." He raised his eyes to yours now.

"It doesn't matter at all, you are your own person- well god- you are Loki. You are mischievous and funny, cunning and loyal to those who are worthy of knowing you. I still know you Loki, and you are not bad- you're good. The fact that you hide it doesn't mean you're not."

He lowered his eyes again, and you knew he was holding himself together now, but you didn't push it. Apparently you weren't the only one who went through a lot. You knew there was so much more to his story, but that was for another night.

"Darling, we separated all those years ago, and it might have been for the best. I never thought I'd see you again." He brought you closer and held your chin so you will look up at him. "But timing is a funny thing; sometimes you never know what will find its way back to you again, so maybe now the timing is right. Maybe we weren't meant to be back then. The timing back then wasn't right, but maybe now, after we both grew, the timing is right."

You couldn't help but smile at him while you pondered his words.

"So, did you write that all down? Or was it just off the top of your head?" you teased and he laughed, you could swear that it was glowing in the dark.

"You're forgetting my silver tongue, dear." He smiled brightly at you and wondered what he could possibly have done right for him to have you in his arms again. "All I'm saying is- maybe these hands had to let it go free, so now at the right time you, my love, came back to me."

You knew those smiles and those laughs were reserved just for you, in the intimate moments where he let all of his guards down, and found his old happy self, when the two of you were alone.

"I love you Loki, so much." You connected your lips for just a moment and let yourself relish in the warm feeling that swept through your body as the soft touch. "This love that I have with you left a permanent mark on my heart, Loki I'm forever yours."

"I assure you then, my love, that it is returned. I'm yours." He said it so simply that it made your heart soar and you moved closer to kiss him again, this time fiercely. You pulled him down to meet your lips, pulling at his hair to stay close to you- not that he needed it, he will be damned if there was any space left between the two of you now.

He sucked on your bottom lip, biting on it just the way he knew you liked, and you moaned softly, letting his tongue slide past your lips. You felt the growl in his chest that was pressed against your own when he tasted you, and it only ignited the fire within you that only he could spark.

"Loki," you moaned and then he deepened the kiss further, making sure you felt everything that he was feeling, tasting every love he held for you- only you. He would stop the entire world, all the galaxies, so this night with you could be longer. He will make time stand still and make this last forever, let every god know that you were his and that he was yours and that a simple thing like time will not be able to keep you apart.

Your love was eternal, you could feel it with every beat of your heart with every touch of his skin with yours, and you could never doubt it. Oh if only the gods would lengthen the night so you could catch up with Loki about anything and everything.

Getting impatient by the second, you put your hands on his hips as he hovered over you and slowly lifted them up his torso and under the thin white shirt he wore. You let your hands wander, pulling him towards you and exploring him as if you didn't have every inch of him memorized in your very soul. You started dragging your hands lower and lower until Loki pulled back from you slightly, you couldn't help the whine that you let out.

"Loki, I need you." He caressed your cheek.

"Darling, you need to rest now. I said I will take care of you, so I will."

"You're not taking care of me now…" you pouted and tried to bring him closer, but he only fell onto his side and turned you around so your back was pressed against his chest.

"Get some rest now, I promise you will need it later." He whispered in your ear and with a kiss to your neck he murmured a good night into your hair.

"Good night, Loki." Your heart was still beating fast, but you were smiling like an idiot as Loki's steady rise and fall of his chest eventually made you match his breaths.

You were home. You were safe. You were loved.

Sleep took you easily once you realized that.

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

[herstarburststories]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

Kinktober day 14: tattoo kink

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's anti possession tattoo is your personal turn on.

A/N: I had my first college day today, so this came out a bit late. Which means, not a beta'd work! Also, tell me if you know the gif's owner.

Warnings: tattoo kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, nipple play, humping

You loved a lot of things about Dean Winchester.

His loyalty, his care for Sammy, his car, his fingers, his lips, his eyes, how good he was with a gun, his courage, his jokes, his adorable Scooby Doo underwear, his cooking, how tender he could touch you with blood stained hands.

There was a lot to love about a man who went through heaven and hell, like a good book with 500 pages— an exciting story wrapped up with a pretty cover.

In certain moments, all the you cherished about him would combustion like a supernova, and you two would end up exactly like now.

You, riding his thigh and moaning against his neck, while Dean grabbed your hips for dear life. All in the middle of the believed DeanCave— none of this was planned. But, in a hunter's life, plans were just a sweet illusion. A single vampire would turn out to be a nest, a deadly werewolf would just eat animal's hearts, and you two just cuddling up, while watching an Old West movie just happened to end with you pressed your heat against his thigh and whimpering like a horny dog.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Dean groaned, his usual gruff voice only making your pussy shiver more. God, couldn't he see that wasn't enough?

You winced, nails sinking in his shoulders as you moved your hips back and forth, looking for more friction. Anything that could give your wet pussy some relief.

“I need you.” You pleaded, hand falling to the collar of his shirt. Your trembling hands attempted to lift it, but you couldn't focus on much more than getting him inside you, or getting more skin, or more anything from Dean. You just needed him as much as you needed air. You had to touch him, every bone in your body told you do. “I need more.”

As usual, Dean seemed to understand exactly what he meant. Maybe because he was just as touch-starved for you as you were for him. Whatever, that didn't matter. The third apocalypse could be starting and it wouldn't matter. All that was worth being cares about was Dean throwing his shirt away.

You whimpered at the sight; your hot boyfriend half naked, flustered from all the dirty things you both had been doing, and his sexy tattoo right in front of your eyes.

You leaned in, not willing to waste any second, connecting your lips to his skin. You kissed him like a devout would worship a god; full of devotion, love, and desire for another blessing. Your kisses went from his chest to his nipple, gaining a slightly moan of Dean there — information that you'd keep for another moment—, until your mouth finally found the ink star.

It was so pretty, so manly. His tattoo didn't care any delicate trace, it was branded in a very visible, and just wrapped his bad boy persona perfectly. He looked so fucking hot like this.

You bit it softly.

Dean's lips parted lightly to let out a plea, “Y/N...”

His cock was hard, boner obviously on his pants and untouched. Yet, somehow seeing your obsession with his tattoo didn't make him frustrated, it would caused his hardness to ache longer, crying pre cum to be touched.

You were so sexy when you loved every piece of his.

“I always knew you had a thing for my tattoo, but not that much.” Dean said under his deep breath, holding your head away to watch you leaned in and kissing his tattoo. Your lips were magical, spreading goosebumps wherever they touched. You sucked on his tattoo, wanting to leave a hickey there. “God, honey. You look so hot like this, ridding me and kissing my tattoo.”

“Dean.”

The way you whined his names during intimate moments always threw Dean back in the wild. Something savage got good of him when you begged for his touch like this; as if you needed him as much as he needed you.

Yeah, the people he saved needed him temporarily. But all the girls, all the other people he had known through the years— neither of them ever matched him when it came to this. They didn't need or love him as much as he did. Not even Sammy seemed to need his big brother that much.

You, though? Years and years, you were still here. Contorting and crying only for his touch, his own sacrifice of heart.

Sometimes, he couldn't blame the ancient gods for wanting their loyal pious back. Not if they felt like this.

Therefore, Dean Winchester just allowed himself to lose control for a minute. Something that could only be described as a howl reverberated through his throat, as he grabbed your hips and placed you on his clothed length.

You both moaned at this. Dean could feel how wet you were for him, and you could experience the bulge on his jeans, only for you.

You started swirling your hips against his hardness, placing your head on his shoulder, needy moans leaving your body. This felt like heaven. Your skirt lifted, the friction of your soaked underwear on Dean's tough jeans, while his hands hurted your waist with passion.

“You're such a slut for my tattoo, huh? You are here, humping on my boner, and you are about to cry just because you can't see me tattoo.” He groaned, pushed you down his cock. Dean told you the rhythm through his hands, and you obediently moved back and forth. He licked his lips, glancing at you: your features contorted into pleasure, mouth open, and sweaty body. His. Only his. Still, your head was handing towards his chest, as if there was something there you were missing. “Look at my face. You better come just like this: untouched. And then I'll fuck your pretty pussy, fill you up with my cum— all while you watch my tattoo. Maybe I'll even let you ride me, see your pretty boobs jumping, while I fuck you. Would you like that, Y/N?”

“Y-yes.” Your body was shivering, fighting yourself not to shut your eyes and get lose in the emotion of belonging. You maintened looking into Deam's lustful green forest, moaning at each movement that rubbed your cunt the right way. And he was growling, pushing you to his crotch, enjoying the pleasure that rough, crude caress gave him.

“Come on, honey. Come to me. Don't you want me to fuck your needy cunt? To tell and show who you belong too? Keep rubbing against my cock and you will come, Y/N. I can't wait to get inside that pretty, tight pussy of yours.”

“DEAN!”

Your orgasm hit you like a comet, Dean's words getting in your veins as a venom. All your body knew how to do was to follow his orders. Your underwear was a mess like the begging mumbles that left your smart mouth.

Because you just wanted more from him. You wanted his touch, you wanted his love, you wanted his cock pounding you over and over again.

Dean held on the edge, trying his best not to come in his pants like a fucking teenager. God, that was one of the hardest things he had ever done— did you have any idea how hot you looked when you came, squirming and screaming his name? But he had to control himself. He wanted to come inside you, slide his thick cock inside your tight walls, get all warm, and fuck you like a real man would.

You were breathless, trembling a bit when your eyes found his again; you know the look on his face very well, and you couldn't wait for the promises to be kept through the night. You were ready for him to fuck you deep and come inside you, mark your pussy as his.

Dean Winchester was the tattoo on your bones, might as well be permanent on other places too. Even if only for the night.

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[alpacaparkaseok]

Book of Soulmates

pairing: Hobi x reader

premise: 1071 5th Ave, New York, NY 10128 is all you need to know.

Fire Starter

Endless circles carry me ever upward. I’ve begun to notice the slight burn in my calves as I continue to climb up the endless circular ramp, a famous aspect of the Guggenheim. 

Famous or not, it still has me contemplating just slipping my heels off and making the rest of the trek up to the top of the building barefoot.

Of course I refuse to take the elevator despite the rest of my group having done so. I mean, this is the Guggenheim. Who takes the elevator and misses all of the beautiful artwork and displays along the way? Not me. 

I pause for a moment before a massive painting that takes up most of the wall, pretending that I’m entranced by it rather than in desperate need of a break. In my defense, I wasn’t planning on having to leave the bottom floor so soon. However, when it was cleared for some exclusive party to come through, I wasn’t left with much of a choice. 

Echoes of the party going on downstairs remind me that I need to keep moving upward. No doubt my group has already made it to the top floor and are impatiently waiting for me. Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll just go on without me, leaving me to enjoy the famous art museum on my own. 

Peeking down a hallway as I pass by it I’m drawn in by the display I see on the floor. Deciding to spare another moment, I sneak inside, eyes wide as I take in the display taking up on side of the floor. Glancing at the plaque beside it, I marvel at Abbas Akhavan’s artwork. The bronze casts made to represent damaged and changed plants as the affects of war are spread out along the way, making me take my time as I walk from one end to another. 

“I don’t know, he just said something about wanting to find Van Gogh and ran up here,” a voice says from the ramp just outside the room where I find myself currently. It’s silent for a moment, and I realize that he must be on the phone. 

“Yeah, I’ll bring him back down. Just give me a few minutes to find him. Ok. Bye.” The end of the phone conversation is punctuated by a long sigh, accompanied by a disbelieving chuckle. “That boy...oh. Hi.”

I turn to find a man - no. Not just some man. Jung Hoseok peers into the exhibit room, glancing around as though looking for someone. 

So that’s why the bottom floor has been reserved. BTS is here. 

“Hi.” I reply rather dumbly. Shaking my head, I fight to not stare too hard at him. He’s wearing a red jacket that looks like it was crafted just for him, flowers and other plants embroidered into the fabric with loving care. Paired with his ripped black jeans, Hoseok looks like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.

“Are you looking for someone?” I ask, trying to get him to move on before I make a complete fool of myself. 

“Oh,” Hoseok repeats for the second time, eyes finally landing on me for longer than a couple of seconds. “You speak Korean?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re looking for someone? I haven’t seen anyone come up this way.”

“Oh,” Hoseok, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s just repeated the same word four times, steps into the exhibit with a soft smile. “My friend - Kim Taehyung, do you know who that is?” 

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Right. We’re supposed to be doing some stuff downstairs but he took off saying that he wanted to go see Van Gogh, and now we can’t find him.”

Chewing on my lip, I frown a little. “But Van Gogh is downstairs...?”

At that precise moment Hoseok’s phone lights up, and he gives me an apologetic smile and half bow before turning and answering it. The call doesn’t last long - he’s only taken two steps before he’s turning right back around with a perfect smile on his face. 

“Well,” he sighs out, wandering closer, “He was downstairs. He just showed up again, I guess. Thanks for the help.”

“Of course.” Giving him a small smile, I turn back to the artwork before me, expecting him to step out. 

From my peripheral I can tell that he’s thinking about it, but he hesitates for a moment. Glancing my way, Hoseok takes another step in my direction. My heart clenches in my chest, but I refuse to look at him.

Sometimes, being painfully awkward is a bit of a crutch. 

“Excuse me,” he says softly, almost as though we were in a crowded room and he was trying not to startle me. “But have we met before?”

Now I do look at him, incredulity lining my features. “...don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting you.”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, you’re right. That was kind of strange for me to ask that, wasn’t it? It’s just...” he pauses, then extends his hand out toward me. “I think that was my stupid way of trying to stall and get to know you before I have to leave.”

My jaw is probably on the ground now, and I continue to stare at the man with disbelief until I realize that his hand is still outstretched. 

“Oh!” I almost shout. “Sorry. Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” 

I go to shake his hand, smiling a little at how he’s trying to respect my culture despite the obvious differences. Daring to glance up at his eyes, my breath gets caught in my throat as I see him doing the same. 

What I identify as warmth in his eyes may also be due to the sparks flying from our joined hands.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts, jumping back as sparks fly and singe our hands. “I - ah! Fire!”

I jump out of my shocked state just in time to see what Hoseok - my soulmate - is referring to. A few loose sparks that didn’t succeed in burning and marking our hands have floated down to the ground and also the white tarp where Abbas Arkhavan’s artwork is set up.

It’s also in the process of catching fire. 

“Ah!” I shout now with Hoseok, and I rush about the room. “Fire extinguisher!” I shout, only making my soulmate more distressed when he realizes that I’m shouting in English.

“What?” He shouts unnecessarily. “What are you saying?!”

“Fire!” I shout again, heart pounding as adrenaline pumps through my veins. “Where’s the extinguisher?!” Tearing around the corner, I gasp in relief as the tell-tale red fire extinguisher hangs on the wall. Running as quickly as I can in my heels, I mentally curse my past self of fifteen minutes ago for not taking off my heels when I had the chance. 

Hoseok notices my predicament, rushing over to me and letting me hand the extinguisher off to him. I hobble after him, finally managing to slip my heels off. 

I watch with horror as the priceless artwork is covered with the white foamy substance of the extinguisher, offering up a pleading prayer that only the tarp was damaged. 

Hoseok sprays every last inch of the tarp, panting when he finally relents. For a moment, all is silent in the aftermath of our soulmate bond. Glancing around the room I search for any other fires that our sparks may have caused, and let out a long sigh when it appears that the damage was at least kept to one small space. 

Still standing before the display with the extinguisher in hand, I slowly make my way over to Hoseok and come to stand beside him. 

His eyes are a bit glazed over as he stares at the wall that’s blank except for Abbas’s plaque. His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths, his face a little flushed. 

Slowly, so slowly, Hoseok turns to look at me, disbelief obvious in his expression. “Did we just-”

“Start a fire?”

“Yeah.”

Looking down at the receding foam, a dry laugh escapes my throat. “I think we did.”

“Because we...we’re...”

“Yep.” My gaze is a little unfocused as I ease the extinguisher out of Hoseok’s grasp, the two of us wincing as our fingers graze each other and a few spare sparks shoot out, falling onto the foam and sizzling as they’re extinguished. 

Turning on my heel, I go to put the extinguisher back and attempt to find the curator to explain this entire mess. 

Hoseok trails after me, looking a little lost as he furrows his brow, still trying to understand what just occurred. My heart aches as he passes by my discarded heels, leaning down to pick them up and carry them along. Without a single word, he already has me swooning at his sweetness. 

I pause at the sight of my right hand as I raise it to put the extinguisher back. My hand is littered with angry red welts from the sparks of our encounter. It’s a sight that I thought I’d never see. 

Soon enough those red welts will fade into darker, lasting little scars. I’ve seen them a million times on other people. 

The soulmate scars. As telling as any wedding ring, and even more permanent. 

Hoseok appears by my side, seeing what I’m staring at. With heartbreaking tenderness, he raises his burned hand to mine, laying it on top. There’s a bit of residual warmth that kicks up at the contact, but no more sparks fly. 

The sentimental moment is quite literally burned into my memory as I stare at our hands, hardly daring to believe that this is real. The moment is ruined as my guilty conscience takes over. 

“We need to find the curator,” I mumble out. “Tell him what happened.”

Hoseok grunts in agreement, intertwining our hands before pulling me along with him, heading down the ramp. I frown up at him.

“What?” He asks, his eyes still a bit glazed over but the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Where are we going? The office is the other way.”

“Oh,” Hoseok says for the umpteenth time. “He’s downstairs...I’m supposed to be down there having a meeting with him.”

Eyes going wide and a groan leaving my mouth, Hoseok laughs at our predicament. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whine. He shakes his head, eyes cleaning up a bit.

“I wish I was, darling.” My ears perk up at the pet name. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t kick you out, though. You’re with me.”

Squeezing his hand a little tighter, I allow a smile to break through.

masterlist

[rocorambles]

Stranger Danger

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader x Hanamaki

Genre/Warning: Yandere, Dub-con, Rape/Non-con, Blood Play, Knife Play, Degradation, Smut

Summary: Kindness has you beckoning two handsome strangers into your home during a particularly bad thunderstorm, but little do you know just how much you’ll regret that decision. 

The thunderstorm is roaring outside and you sigh as you finally turn off your computer. Thank goodness it’s a Friday at least and you won’t have to sign back on for work until Monday. You’re thankful your gig lets you work from home as you stare out at the torrential downpour and your nose crinkles in distaste at even imagining having to commute in this weather. A little growl interrupts your thoughts and you rub your stomach as you wander towards the kitchen. You hadn’t eaten much today, too caught up in work and making sure deliverables were handed in on time, but now that your mind isn’t occupied, you realize how hungry you actually are. Humming, you cut and prep ingredients for a warm, comforting stew, the perfect dish for a gloomy wet day and soon your kitchen is filled with a soothing melody of a knife rhythmically hitting the cutting board and raindrops pitter pattering on your window. 

You’re startled by the sound of your doorbell ringing. You weren’t expecting any visitors and your house is so out of the way, tucked in a quiet corner of the woods, that you’re honestly surprised and a little frightened that someone had even found it. Knife in hand, you quietly walk towards your front door and peer out your door viewer. You’re met with the sight of two men who roughly seem your age, maybe in their late 20s, standing drenched outside your house. Unsure of what to do, you continue spying on them as they insistently ring and knock. You have to admit, they’re easy on the eyes, you can tell even through the little hole, and it’s been so long since you’ve last hung out with anyone. You chose to live a quiet hermit life, but it didn’t mean you were completely immune to the pangs of loneliness that crept up every once in a while. You examine them closely...they don’t have any suspicious bags or items on their person, they’re empty handed...what could possibly be the worst thing that could happen? With that thought, you finally unlock the door and come face to face with the duo. 

You had already vaguely thought the two were attractive behind your tiny peep hole, but now standing in front of them in person, you’re slightly taken aback by how good looking they are. The chestnut colored hair man speaks first. “Sorry, our car is running really low on gas and we don’t know the area too well. We didn’t want to keep on driving and get stuck in this weather, so we just decided to drop by the nearest house we could find. Do you mind if we stick it out until the storm subsides a little?” You’re a little uncertain about letting two strangers waltz into your home, but he seems so genuine and nice. His charming smile tugs at your heart, but you stare warily at the taller of the two who still hasn’t said a word. There’s something a little more intimidating about the dark curly-haired figure and a little warning bell sounds in the back of your mind. Sensing your hesitation, the shorter of the two nudges the other in the side and with a grunt, the taller one bows politely in greeting and also implores you for help. You didn’t want to send them back off into the terrible weather and if you’re honest, some company would be nice. Stepping aside, you beckon them in. 

You hand them some spare towels and the biggest athletic wear you can find in your closet as you guide them to the bathroom and let them change out of their rain-soaked clothing and freshen up. Soon enough, the three of you are in your small kitchen getting to know each other as you prepare dinner together. “We’re Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro, but please just call us Mattsun and Makki.” You laugh and begin to enjoy yourself as you talk more to the two men. Makki is definitely the friendlier of the two, easily chatting away and making you giggle. But although Mattsun is quieter and more reserved, his quick wit and snarky playful comments spice up the conversation and the three of you find an easy cadence. They listen closely as you explain why you live in such an isolated part of the woods. You’ve always been a little more introverted by nature, so you had jumped at the opportunity of being able to work remotely and used it to find this quaint cottage in the forest where only nature could bother you. There were no nearby neighbors to worry about and your friends and parents all lived so far away, they rarely came to visit you. As you turn your back on your guests to ladle the stew into bowls, you miss the dark look the men exchange behind you.

Dinner goes on without a hitch and now with bellies full and dishes clean, the three of you lounge on your couch lazily watching Netflix. When you had bought furniture, you had only planned for yourself, so the couch is a bit small for three adults, but you make it work as you sit in the middle, Makki and Mattsun positioned on either side of you, so close that you can feel the warmth of their bodies. You slightly flush, but you don’t think much of it as you continue watching the flickering screen. Mattsun shifts and suddenly his left arm is wrapped around the sofa back behind you and you can feel your back pressing up against his forearm, but thinking he’s just trying to get comfortable, you continue to ignore the two men. It’s only when Makki’s right hand softly trails up your left thigh that you confusedly turn to stare at the grinning boy. Makki tentatively leans in for a kiss and after he pulls away, he fondly looks at you. “Are you okay with this?” Strong arms wrap around your waist from behind you and you turn your head to stare at Mattsun smirking down at you. “Well, are you?” There’s only a slight pause before you nod your head and Makki lifts you in his arms as you direct him to your bedroom. 

Only when he has gently deposited you on your bed do you realize that Mattsun hasn’t followed the two of you. You question Makki about his friend’s whereabouts, but Makki just hushes you with a heated kiss. “He’ll be here soon. Just focus on me for now.” And you can’t do anything besides that when Makki playfully bites your bottom lip before entangling his tongue with yours. It’s been so long since your last sexual escapade and you quickly lose yourself in the heat of another body and your eyes close as your mouths continue their dance. Makki’s fingers skillfully rid you of your clothes and reposition you until you’re both upright with you kneeling between Makki’s outstretched legs. But a startled choke has you tearing your face away from Makki as you feel something sharp begin to dig into your back. You try to twist your body around, but Makki’s firm hold on you doesn’t allow for much range. However, with what movement your neck allows you, you see Mattsun behind you, tracing the tip of one of your kitchen knives into your skin, his once apathetic countenance now replaced by a feral predatory grin. 

You clutch at Makki desperately, hoping to reason with the kinder of the two. “Please, Makki, make him stop.” You plead, tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes, but Makki just gently kisses you and affectionately wipes the tears away. “Just bear with it, sweetheart. Struggling only makes it worse and you don’t want to make Mattsun angry. He was so cruel to the other darlings who wouldn’t let him carve his pretty marks into them.” Other darlings? Just how many people had fallen victim to this insane duo. You don’t realize you’ve said your thoughts aloud until Makki laughs and grabs your jaw forcing you to look him in the eye. “You’d be surprised how many silly girls like you just welcome big bad wolves into their homes. It’s almost like you all want to be eaten,” he coos. Anger and humiliation have you ready to retort scathingly, but instead you wail in pain as Mattsun begins to carve and you feel hot liquid running down your back. Makki uses the chance to devour your lips once again, moving one arm to fully encircle your waist and hold your figure tight to him while his other hand begins to roughly twist and pull at your nipples. You want to focus on the pain, to focus on how wrong this all is, but pleasure threatens to cloud your senses as Makki begins to suck harsh marks down your neck and your nipples harden as his hand continues to fondle them. 

It feels like time is crawling as pain and pleasure both equally envelope you, but finally metal stops tearing through you and Makki lets you collapse face first onto the bed as Mattsun and him admire the artwork now etched into you. You hear a snap before you feel the weight of Makki lying next to you, gently stroking your hair behind your ear as he shows you the picture he took and a sob escapes you as you stare at the kanji of their names crudely cut into your once unmarred back. A rough hand forces your head up and you’re forced to prop yourself up on your hands and knees to lessen the strain in your back and neck as you look up into Mattsun’s face. “You’re going to look so beautiful when this scars over and you’re permanently branded. No one else is ever going to want damaged goods like you, so you better just start accepting the fact that you belong to us now.” That’s all the preamble you get before you’re slapped in the face by a thick heavy weight and you let out more broken cries when you realize you’re now face to face with Mattsun’s cock, already slick with pre-cum and at full mast. Your stomach churns at the fact that the bastard is getting turned on by your pain and suffering, but you don’t have time to delve too much into your thoughts as Mattsun slaps you across the face once more before rubbing his tip all over your face, smearing pre-cum into your skin. “Open up, whore. Don’t even think about biting down or I’ll leave some more pretty art on your body.” You obediently open your mouth as fear lances through your body at the feeling of a sharp edge warningly being pressed into your throat.

Mattsun is big and you struggle to fit even half of him inside your mouth. With an annoyed sigh, he grabs the back of your head and slams all the way into your throat and you screech, fingernails clawing at his thighs. Your throat burns and you can’t breathe, but Mattsun just moans as he starts to fuck your tight mouth with abandon. Tears, snot, and drool are cascading into a sloppy pool beneath you, but your messy pathetic face only turns him on more. “Yeah, keep on crying, sweetheart. Fuck, that’s hot.” You’re so overwhelmed by the lack of oxygen and the building burn of your mouth being stretched that you’re barely aware of Makki situating himself behind you until he rams his entire length inside you in one rough motion. Everything hurts. You’re so filled and stretched and neither man relents as they continue their brutal assault on your holes. There’s no care for your pleasure or discomfort as they savagely chase their own ends and you lie there limply, taking it like the good sex doll they’ve made you into. 

Your consciousness begins to crawl in on itself in an attempt to at least mentally escape what’s happening, but even that is taken from you as Makki begins to attentively circle and play with your clit and you want to die when you feel arousal licking at the corners of your brain. “You don’t get to escape, darling. I want you to feel everything that’s happening. I want you to experience your own body betraying you when it falls apart in pleasure. Cry and scream all you want. At least your body is honest about how it feels.” And that’s exactly what you do. Sobs wrack your body as desire bubbles within you and you peak when the bitter taste of Mattsun’s release coats your tongue. “Fuck, you dirty slut. Did you get off to just the taste of my cum? God, we chose well, Makki. It’s like she was made for this.” Makki doesn’t reply, too busy pounding into you as you scream at the pain of being overstimulated. Your throat is hoarse and your upper body is collapsed on the bed, but you continue brokenly bawling into the ruined sheets beneath you even after Makki roughly sinks into you one last time and releases deep within you.

Still trembling, you take a deep shaky breath, thankful that at least it’s over and you beg them  to just leave you alone now that they’re done. But your heart sinks as Makki tenderly strokes your head and leans down to smile at you. “We’re nowhere near done with you, sweetheart. Weren’t you listening when Mattsun said you belong to us now?” You hiss as strong arms rearrange you until you’re sitting in a lap with your back pressed against a firm chest, making your abused pussy and still healing wounds throb in pain. “We have the rest of your life left or until we get bored of you, whichever comes first,” Mattsun purrs into your ear. “So if you want us to keep you alive, you better keep us happy.” Those words are barely out of his mouth before Mattsun is guiding you to perch above his shaft and with a rough jerk, he bottoms out completely within you and begins to manhandle you into bouncing on his length. Silent tears trail down your face as you send a desperate prayer for someone to save you before slumping your head back onto Mattsun’s shoulder. Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to collapse in his hold.          

[sinkix]

Haikyuu!!│Obsessive/Yandere HC’s │

Warning - Contains dark themes, mentions of emotional and physical abuse & sexually suggestive/explicit (18+) content, reader’s discretion is advised.

Characters - Hinata, Kuroo, Daichi, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Oikawa, Bokuto, Tendou & Kageyama.

Important Note: This is in no way romanticising or normalising toxic/abusive behaviour, you should not do as such as this is incredibly dangerous and unhealthy. If you identify any of these in your own relationships please seek help from a member of authority, counsellor or someone who can remove you from and aid in your recovery from the situation. This is a great contrast from all my other work on here so please read with caution. Stay safe <3

Hinata - The Hell-bent Visionary

Danger level: 6.5/10

So you’ve caught the eye of Karasuno’s ray of sunshine?

Bask in it’s warmth while you can, for the sun sets and leaves a chilling dark in it’s wake.

When he becomes focused on something, it’s hard to break the dedication he has. It’s unyielding, firm and persistent. Once you light a fire in him, it’s near impossible to put out.

And you didn’t just spark a flame, you formed a whole inferno.

Blowing up your phone with texts, calls and the tapping of rocks against your bedroom’s glass from late night visits to your doorstep. Greeted with the sickening scent of blood-red roses filling your nose at a reminder of how firmly he has you in his hold that will never falter. The lingering scratch marks adorning the window panes that you could have sworn were not there the night before.

 He can’t get enough of you, and the more time he spends with you, the more addictive your presence becomes.

He’s hooked, reaching the point of rivalling his sporting passion.

He learns to balance the two equally, and any second that isn’t spent practising, he is by your side or doing everything in his power to be.

It’s tunnel vision. All he sees is you, and the ball, nothing else matters. Relentlessly chasing for both long after his lungs tire and legs give out.

 He is a dark, unwavering force of nature, itching to monopolise you and eradicate any threat on what belongs to him. Yet around everyone else, he's a bundle of lovable sunshine who wouldn't dare hurt a fly, and while he doesn't show an outright aggressive nature, you know there's something sinister lurking underneath that might one day snap. 

It’s his stare that haunts you the most.

That ominous, chilling stare which pierces through your heart and impales it on a stick, out on display for him to marvel at in all it’s vulnerable beauty. The level of intensity and sheer devotion glinting in his eyes is nothing short of haunting.

Luckily for you, Hinata will not cause physical harm, but it’s his presence and ‘Jekyll & Hyde’ nature which will slowly but surely chip away at you until your sanity is reduced to dust. The worst part? Since he is loved by everyone, no one sees the twisted side you do, and as a result left permanently in a state of self-doubt and second guessing. Your mind will eventually spiral into a descent to madness until your right where he wants you.

Be careful, for even the sun’s light burns out eventually. And when it does, you’ll be swallowed by the darkness.

Kuroo - The Devil’s Reciprocal

Danger level: 9/10

Ahhh, the bad boy who smells of cigarettes and sex, the one who lurks in bars long after midnight eyeing up his prey. This man gives Satan a run for his money. I hope you’re prepared. What did you do to catch his eye, anyway? 

Whatever it was, it’s doomed you to an eternity in hell on earth.

Or heaven, if you’re a glass half full kind of person.

Kuroo drew you in like a moth to a flame, you knew he had no glinting halo, but that was his appeal.

 He was the incarnation of everything your parents warned you about, and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

Hell, you still can’t. But that doesn’t minimise the damage done to you every second he turns the light on, reeling you in once again, further and further until there’s no escape, utterly blinded by his deceiving tactics.

He has many admirers, you know. So in his eyes he feels you should be privileged to be given so much of his attention, that once received would leave any sane person running.

Unfortunately, you don’t seem to be sane enough, and he recognises this. He knows he’s got you hooked on his every word, dragging out the syllables like a lullaby that leave you entranced and begging for more.

 What can I say? The man has a way with words, and you’re totally enthralled by every sentence. 

Kuroo recklessly waves his charm like a gun, never a moment of hesitation to utilise it in order to get what he wants. 

And he always gets what he wants. 

It’s so dangerous it will leave you down on your knees in an act of submission and prepared to do anything to please him. The tip of the pistol aimed at your temple as if daring your defiance.

He revels in seeing that doe-eyed expression, fully aware of how much control he holds over every cell in your body. All of them scream out for him, for Kuroo. To kiss you, touch you and whisper sweet-nothings into your ear that linger with his hot breath scathing your neck, burning his scent into your memory until it’s one you’ll never forget. 

With all that temptation comes  consequence though, because once you give in, you’ll face the sadists horns that lurk underneath. 

Intertwining your bodies and tracing a switchblade across your jugular, he’ll stretch his lips into a wide, cunning grin, slamming into you and rutting his hips until they connect with yours. Throwing your head back in ecstasy, your whine will be stifled and cut short by the piercing slit of a blade shallowly opening the skin of your throat, the sharp sting lingering as his tongue deepens the incision with delight.

He is incredibly possessive, so anyone he deems a threat will be mercilessly eradicated, soon to be forgotten though. He will never allow your thoughts to be consumed by anything but him. 

Grinding his body against yours, the husky murmuring of pillow talk he is all too skilled at will leaves your knees trembling and buckling before him, with the one question he will only ever accept one answer to.

“Tell me sweetheart, who do you belong to...?”

Shuffling the cards and dragging cigar smoke across his lips, he’ll sip that glass of gin snidely and lock you in place with his smouldering gaze. Forever a reminder there’s no escape from his enslaving curse.

Daichi - The Despotic Protector

Danger level: 6/10

Karasuno’s father figure and reliable captain rolled into one. I hope you’re prepared for a lifetime of suffocation, because he’s never letting you go.

He takes on an almost a parental role in the relationship, and a toxic one.

Controlling, overbearing and monitoring your every move. He will never allow you to do anything without his permission out of fear for your safety.

I mean, what if something happens to you while you’re not within his peripherals? 

That’s a thought he simply couldn’t bear.

He’ll lock you in the confines of his home if he has to. But don’t get mad sweetheart, it’s because he cares for you.

Soon enough Daichi will have isolated you from the world, never seeing the shining of sunlight unless your arm is looped around his in a crushing hold. 

Friends? You can forget them, he made sure to steer you far, far away from those. He just can’t risk them laying a finger on you or putting you in harms way, he would never forgive them.

Daichi desperately tries to convince you he has your best interests at heart, and unluckily for you, you fall right into his trap.

Your whole life is consumed by him, and only him. Watching the clock tick by aimlessly until you hear his footsteps up the driveway, scurrying to the door to greet him like an obedient dog upon his arrival.

Pulling you into a loving hug that threatens to squeeze the life out of you, you can’t help but let your mind roam and ponder the question lurking at the back of your thoughts.

Has he ever killed with these hands?

They seem too crushing. Like a brute, inhuman force. You can picture his fingers wrapped around someone’s throat and draining them of oxygen almost too easily.

Little did you know, your hypothesis was painfully accurate. 

An old childhood friend of yours, currently 6 feet under in the yard. Your bare feet trampling over his grave and none the wiser every time he allows you to set foot in the garden.

You’ll never know, though. It’s not like you can check your phone without his permission anyway, he’s already blocked their contact.

Days, weeks, months pass by of his constant monitoring and controlling behaviour. The CCTV’s scattered in every corner of the house, the social deprivation and loneliness that creeps in every time he’s not there as you roam the barren household, the purple finger marks roping your wrists from when he kept you in a paralysing grip,daring your disobedience.

and you can’t help but wonder,

Maybe the person you needed protecting from was him.

Tsukishima - The Mendacious Manipulator

Danger level: 8.5/10

How unlucky you are to be paired with this mentally destroying sadist. 

At first Tsukishima’s wit, sarcasm and clever quips were what allured you, never did you think they would be used against you. Wielded like a weapon with a blade sharp enough to slice you in two.

And I’m warning you, every cut hurts.

There’s no escaping from it, a string of degrading remarks whispered cruelly in your ear while holding hands in public, appearing to be a cute and affectionate couple, but a sinister secret lurks underneath that only you know of.

He’ll treat you like a dog, expecting you to be at his every beck and call, serving on your knees with a painted smile that’s woefully forced on with every ounce of strength you have left.

You are his puppet, his useless little play thing that he makes painfully aware of how disposable they truly are.

And don’t take him for a fool, he will discard you if he sees fit.

Unmerciful, cruel, snide, are the some of many words that can describe Tsukishima, and as you’ll soon find out none of them are pleasant.

He will craftily make you open up to him. Revealing your deepest insecurities,traumas and troubles then sheath it like a sword to your neck, holding you hostage to your own weaknesses in order to gain that empowering sense of control he oh-so revels in. Endlessly striving to achieve his selfish, favourable outcome. 

This Yandere is one of most intelligent of the bunch, and unfortunately for you, does not use his intelligence for charitable or good-natured purposes.

He knows exactly what to say to leave you curled up in a ball, tears streaming and wracked in emotional agony as you plead for forgiveness on something that isn’t even your fault. He knows this, but finds it comical and all too amusing to see you so broken over something when you weren’t the one to blame. He gets off to your mental anguish.

You’ll be left stumbling the streets at 2 in the morning, contemplating your life and everything as you know it, he will warp your perception of the world until he is the only one you can crawl to. After all, it’s your fault, right? He’s the only one who could tolerate you, everyone else abandoned you because you were so insufferable.

...is what he’ll have you believe. In reality, Tsukishima was pulling strings behind the scenes to ensure you would distance yourself from friends and family, resulting in them doing the same. Wrapping you around his finger and twisting your behaviour into one that’s volatile and unapproachable, until you’re left totally alone.

You’ll never know though.

That mental fortitude will soon shatter, and when it does, he’ll cackle at it’s pathetic remains.

Yamaguchi  - The Diffident Vampire

Danger level: 5/10

I’m sad to say, but your tween Twilight fantasies will be crushed when you stumble upon this mess of a monster.

I don’t mean to say he’s a literal vampire, but you’ll understand the use of this metaphor once we delve into some of his tendencies.

He is incredibly insecure, the walking embodiment of the very word.

Now that isn’t the reason you should be warded off, everyone has self-esteem issues. However, this trait of his plays a huge part in siphoning the life out of you.

He captured your heart with his soft and sympathetic nature, easily startled and somewhat skittish.

You didn’t see what was below the iceberg however, and once you did, he sank his teeth in and began to suck before you could escape, draining you dry until you have no more left to give. Nothing to spare until he is licking his lips in satisfaction, swelled with the abundance at the emotional dependency he has built up on you.

He needs reassurance like a life line, and while some might find this endearing at first, it undoubtedly becomes highly toxic and emotionally exhausting.  

Yamaguchi is incredibly volatile with his sensitivity, you have to watch your words and be sure he doesn’t misinterpret them and become dejected. He will read into everything you say and question every little detail. 

This is one of those Yandere’s that wouldn't do it intentionally I don’t think, but by the time he catches himself it’s too late, he’s in far too deep to stop and I don’t think he ever will once he realises how addicted he is to you, your words boosting his sense of worth and being the only form of confidence he’s ever felt in his life.

It’s quite sad, really. 

Don’t pity him too much, though. That’s the trap. That’s how reels you in until the teeth marks adorning your neck are a harsh reminder that you are nothing more than food for his ego.

If you ever think about leaving, he will have no qualms grovelling at your knees, razor to his wrists and begging you to stay. A cruel memoire at what keeps you tied here in the first place.

Pity.

Care.

The mutual empathy you saw in him that drew you in was now broken and one-sided, his selfishness far outweighing this trait of his and becoming your death-sentence. 

The marks will never fade. One day you’ll collapse to your knees and cave, but he won’t stop until he has bled you bare.

Oikawa - The Venusian’s Nightmare.

Danger level: 8/10

Oh charming Oikawa. The pretty boy with enough carnal seduction to rival his greek goddess counterpart. Hair smooth as silk, eyes glinting with mischief and a smirk that could bow you down on all fours. He has everything, or so it seems.

Sanity isn’t one of them.

He is VERY demanding when he craves your attention, which let’s face it is pretty often. If he doesn’t get it? Definition of a nightmarish brat.

He will whine, complain, blow up your phone. Still not available?

He’ll simply disappear.

For how long? Who really knows. He likes the thought of you on edge and anticipating his return, thoughts of him plaguing your mind to the point you question if you’re the one who’s obsessed.

Don’t worry though, when he returns he has enough sensual suave to make you forgive him ten times over.

You may think his bratty and sulking nature is the worst of it.

Oh how wrong you are.

Push him to his limits or the closest thing to it and you’ll face a cut-throat, teasing sadist who will tie you to the bed with a sickening sparkle in his eyes, marvelling at your skin jaggedly sliced open like a sheet of paper, tracing the wounds with his tongue and lapping up the blood before pulling you into a heated kiss which seems almost loving, if it weren’t for the metallic taste intertwining your tongues as a harsh reminder that you’re not here by choice.

He is definitely the type to mock you and howl with laughter as your body spams and writhes in pain, degrading you with the most vile remarks till tears spill from your eyes.

“Awh poor (Y/N)-chan, crying like a baby. Can’t handle the pain? What a pathetic little whore. Maybe if you beg enough, I’ll ease up the pressure~”

Sometimes he’ll leave you there wrist-bound to the bed post for hours, coming back in occasionally until your level of pleading satisfies him. 

His change in treatment is paradoxical in the aftermath, he will release you from your restrains and rub your skin with such tender care, it’s agonisingly deceiving.

One of the most dangerous things about him is his intuition, it’s damn near supernatural and makes for a natural born lie detector. Oikawa will sense the slightest shift in your mood, tone and body language. He knows you like the back of his hand, making it all the more unnerving to be in his presence.

This can be a positive if he is looking to fill you with ecstasy, since he knows every sweet spot, curl of his fingers and words to whisper that leave you trembling in mind-numbing pleasure.

Though you know once coming down from your high, your moments of heaven will slip through your fingers before crashing back down to reality.

He can read you like a book that he wrote with his own hands and it’s horrifying, he can predict what you’re going to say or do before you’ve even made up your mind. Which as you can guess, makes escape or wheedling out of a threatening scenario a null alternative.

If you decide to make the suicidal mistake of lying, your body will never quite function the same once he’s through. not to mention the plethora of emotional scarring that comes along with it.

After catching you in your mendacity and deeming your punishment enough, he’ll decorate your body in cuts, bruises and hickeys that throb from the abuse of his teeth. Laying you down in bed and tucking you in gently, wrapping an arm around in an act of ‘protection’ that was formerly wrapped around your throat in an act of threatening asphyxiation.

Eyes fluttering closed hours after he drifted off beside you, your heart rate quells and the tears staining your cheeks dry, preparing for the repeated cycle when the sun rises. 

How foolish to be lured in by such a facade, even the most beautiful of creatures can be hideous. 

Bokuto -  The Volcanoes Slaughter

Danger level: 9.5/10

The ticking of a time bomb, the cracking of the ground beneath your feet.

Once you are swept up in this man’s wrath you know there will never be an escape.

and he’s fucking terrifying.

His energy and vigour were what charmed you, his upbeat enthusiasm that while volatile, was very contagious and encouraging. 

If only you had known what kind of disaster was laying low under the surface.

Akaashi had tried to warn you, but you simply never listened.

He pities you now, for you’re in the same boat as him.

Eternally putting up with his violent tempers and erratic nature, which you often get the brunt of behind closed doors, left to cover the scars with a scarf and cheap pot of concealer.

His moods switch as quick as the direction of the wind, a gust too strong that leaves you flying back like a ragdoll against the wall.

Or that may just be because he actually threw you in a fit of rage, itching to see your limp body crack against the drywall to soothe his rage. Drowning the voices in his head with the sound of your soothing whimpers filled with agony.

While he may beat you black and blue whenever the overflow of emotions take over, he still does ‘care’ for you in his own sickening way, and would never have any qualms snapping a neck or two if it prevented anyone else laying a finger on you.

Though to be honest it’s the furthest thing from care, it’s downright monopolisation of something he deems his object.

How dare they hurt his personal punching bag, don’t they know you’re his and his alone to mark up in any way he pleases?

To everyone else, he seems like a very loving and protective boyfriend who has the occasional mood swing. If only they could pick up on the flinching of your body when his voice raises even a decibel, or the way you retract in fear at the swatting of a hand too close to your face. 

The anxiety felt when in his presence is indescribable, your whole body will soon become accustomed to trembling in fear, your fight or flight kicking in at the mere mention of his name. His voice sends every hair standing on end, bracing for the impact that may or may never come from his grazed fists.

Treading on eggshells and analysing every word before you speak will become second nature, even the tone of your voice or the way you arrange a question will be heavily thought over before even daring to let it escape your mouth.

You just can’t risk it, even hearing a word he doesn’t like will result in the tectonic plates shifting, getting closer to his impending eruption.

Once you hear the rumbling, you’ll know it’s far too late to run. Burned by the raging lava and consumed whole in a flood of pain and misery, it will destroy everything in it’s wake, even you.

Tendou - The Jesters Despair

Danger level: 10/10

You really opened pandora’s box with this one.

And once you so much as cracked it for a peak, just that little inkling of curiosity, the lanky arm of a redhead yanked your wrist and dragged you in with him.

Tendou’s eccentric and offbeat disposition was something you had always admired, it was what made your heart flutter.

Now? That eccentricity is put to the most horrifying of uses.

Mind games, manipulation, and unpredictability beyond your worst nightmare.

Tendou is the type to sink a blade into your skin and cackle maniacally while you cry and plead for him to stop. Edging himself and eyeing you up greedily at the painful fear in your eyes, blood trickling down your skin with each incision.

He’ll pull your hair back and slide his tongue along the cuts, his lustful gaze boring into your own as the pooling saliva leaves a chilling feeling on your skin, nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of his DNA entering your bloodstream.

He thrives on trickery and deception. He’s the type to say something incredibly warm and soft-centred, one that makes your pupils expand in newfound hope with the question of “...really?” rolling off your tongue. That inkling of hope sparking the thought that maybe, just maybe he’s changed. 

Only to burst into a fit of laughter at your naivety, teasing you relentlessly for how gullible and moronic he thinks you are. 

This yandere is incredibly incalculable. Here one minute, gone the next. Don’t even bother trying to figure out what he’s doing or where he is, you’ll never know. It keeps you on your toes in the most negative and unnerving sense of the expression, he gets a buzz off leaving you wondering, and takes great satisfaction in knowing you’re probably thinking about him.

 However, he expects you to be there whenever he needs you, regardless of circumstance. And if you’re not? You’ll have consequences to face.

I’m sorry to say, but there is no chance in hell you’re surviving this experience, there’s no doubt you’ll be murdered eventually. 

After all, he does get bored easily. Not so much as giving it a second thought on disposing of you once you are no longer a source of fresh entertainment for his sadistic desires.

With each passing day his treatment becomes increasingly brutal, searching for new ways to fulfil that empty feeling in his heart and cold, hollow look in his eyes. Don’t even bother trying to save him, not even he would know where to start.

Every night as you shut your eyes on the hardwood floor beside his bed, you can’t help but wonder if this is the last time you’ll ever close them.

And for your sake? You’d better hope it is.

Charming you with the humour of a Jester and putting on a show, he’ll make it certain every time you laugh, will be paid back with tears twofold. 

Kageyama - The Majesties Tyrant

Danger level: 7/10

Kneel before your highness or face his wrath. Kageyama Tobio is the most commanding of them all. Permanently trapped in his dictatorship with no hope of revolt. 

He doesn’t become set on things very often, but once he does it’s something he’ll never give up until he’s conquered it wholly.

Stubborn, moody, domineering and demanding. With just enough of a soft side he uses to persuade you back again. 

Fuelled by ego, pride, and a sense of superiority, he will never stop until he has your total obedience.

Being the dense man he is, this is usually achieved through simplistic means of intimidation and threats of aggression.

Kageyama will not hesitate to raise his fist and back you into a corner, cowering in recoil at his menacing aura that itches to do damage

You will do what he says, whenever he needs it, no if’s but’s or objections.

For such a hard headed ruler, he’s surprisingly childish and unsure about how to express anything other than abuse.

I think a part of him genuinely does like you, but it’s far too clouded by his toxic nature that it could never be seen as even slightly redeemable.

The most you’ll ever get out of Kageyama is the occasional hug, in which he squeezes you far to tight and resurfaces the pain of last nights bruises.

He doesn’t resort to physical violence often, as he is always reprimanded by the team to control his anger. If only they knew what he was like behind closed doors. I suppose you could credit it to Karasuno that he hasn’t accidentally killed you yet.

Yet.

When it comes to matters in the bedroom, he is focused solely on his own gratification, yours being a second thought he never so much as acknowledges.

Collared and threaded by  chain, you will crawl beside him and take it all until you’re gasping for air. The only thing he cares about is climaxing and leaving you with the cleanup.

He’s quite self conscious, so don’t expect much physical affection unless he’s chasing a particularly intense release.

Kageyama is highly jealous and frequently painted green with envy, so expect your social life to dwindle significantly once he has his hands on you, literally and metaphorically.

Thankfully, he won’t isolate you entirely, but it’s enough to leave you feeling segregated from the rest of the world. A lone member of his regime that you are forever trapped in with no chance of escape.

Bow down with a meek mutter of “Yes...master.” His crown will twinkle in the moonlight as a symbol of your everlasting enslavement.

The king of the court, and the ruler of your heart.