#took him outside a couple times to play and work off some of the adrenaline but he's still very timid

[gefiltefished]

remind me never to open my big fat mouth when things are going well

[storiesofsvu]

Olivia Benson Caring for a s/o w/anxiety

FAM! This took way longer to write than I expected, but honestly, 99% of it is because it’s LITERALLY my life. I’ve been coping/dealing with anxiety/panic disorders for years and its terrible. So yes, the restaurant story is something that happened to me, darker alcohol WILL affect your nerves the next day, and for all of you out there who deal with similar situations, I see you, I hear you and I feel you. I know how terrible and tough this is and I love each and every one of you. 

Also TW: Anxiety/panic attacks

***

The first time it happens is after a very long week of work with barely enough sleep to keep you going, the entire squad had been living off caffeine to keep going which only made the situation worse. You and Olivia had brought a couple of files to Barba for more warrants and end up getting into it with him, he in turn comes after you, criticizing your police work. You do your best to hold your ground but he can’t help but roll his eyes at the tremor in your lower lip, the glassiness of your eyes, you storm from the room and he mutters something that sounds like ‘pathetic’. Liv tells him to smarten up and not be such an asshole, finding you outside Hogan Place pacing, trying to burn off the adrenaline burning through your veins.

At first she thinks that you were just riled up, tired from the rough week, upset at the way Barba came after you, though he was always an ass, and you were usually able to spit back just as much fire as he was. She gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, telling you to go home, try to get some sleep, take the weekend off.

The second time she noticed you’d been on edge all day, snapping a couple times you probably shouldn’t have, your hands were nearly shaking, your paperwork was a scribbly mess when it was usually immaculate. The squad headed out for drinks, you were beyond thankful to be done with the day, dropping down into a chair, swigging back a hefty amount of your drink. The bar was crowded today, loud, the squad was letting off steam, shouting over the music, Amanda started flicking bits of coaster across the table at Carisi, making fun of whatever story he was telling. It only took a second for you to down the rest of your drink, slipping away from the table, flagging down a cab. Everything rung in your ears, feeling completely overstimulated, you needed quiet, you needed peace, you needed darkness. You felt your body trembling the entire ride home, your heart palpitating way too fast, your chest constricted so tightly you felt like you could burst at any second. You hated being enclosed in the small space, hating more at the music playing from the radio, trying to take deep breaths, quickly tossing cash at the driver as you clambered out, thankful for the cold air.

When you got up to your apartment you burst into tears, finally letting out the tension in your body. You felt like you sobbed for hours, throat hoarse by the time you thought you were done, the need to move still driving through you, pacing back and fourth through the living room. Your phone pinged, Olivia, asking if you were okay. You replied with a simple “I need you here please.”

It felt like moments later that she was at your door, you buried yourself into her arms, a fresh set of tears throbbing through your body. She held you close, tight, the embrace that you simply needed so badly in that moment. Her lips softly meeting your head, she was concerned, but didn’t ask any questions until you finally pulled away, wiping your eyes and blowing your nose. A muted ‘Sorry’ coming from your lips, barely able to meet her gaze.

She guides you to the couch, asking if you want to talk, you apologize again, saying that nothing particular is wrong. It takes a minute, her soothing squeeze of your hand makes you meet her eyes, admitting that you deal with anxiety. It’s something that sprouted unexpectedly, you’d never dealt with it in your adolescent life, and it was always worse when you were low on sleep, had caffeine, or the day after a big drinking night. You got overstimulated easily, and tonight it was just too much for you. As much as it wreaked havoc on your body you preferred not to take the Ativan, attempting to calm yourself down, doing breathing exercises, cooling your body down, something as simple as jumping jacks to burn off the extra adrenaline. You knew things could be a hell of a lot worse and you didn’t want the Ativan to lose it’s effect when you had an actual panic attack. 

The first time you’d had a panic attack was your last year of college, you’d been out late with friends, having downed at least a full bottle of red wine, despite having to open the restaurant Saturday morning. You felt groggy and on edge all morning, your body shaking with energy, the hungover part of you divulged in greasy food and a Venti espresso filled coffee to give you the energy to get through the day. You felt light headed, shaky, nearly like you couldn’t breathe. It was Pride, the restaurant would be FULL this afternoon, so you mentioned to your manager that you weren’t sure if you could make it through the 10 hour shift, knowing something was wrong. It was halfway through taking payment for a table that you stumbled to the hostess stand, a simple “I can’t breathe.” before you had to sink to the floor, scared and barely able to see. You’d already taken a Benadryl and your inhaler. The hospital wasn’t able to figure out what was wrong, but upon doing more research over mental health you figured it out yourself months later.

You’d much rather take the Ativan in something like that than the little anxiety bursts you experienced.

Olivia’s quick to take this into part of her daily life. She doesn’t overbear you with questions, but she’s going to be checking in with you, a soft smile on her face, a little squeeze to the shoulder.

She always makes sure your medication is refilled before it really needs to be, and that it’s in your bag at all times. It can only take a second for something to trigger you, and she wants to make sure that you’re always taken care of.

She knows that sometimes you need her embrace like nothing else, and sometimes that physical contact will make things horrifically worse, always asking for your permission before she touches you.

She comes to learn that temperature is a big thing with anxiety, with the higher heart rate you’re burning up. She’ll always drag you outside in the cooler months, letting you breathe until you calm down, despite the fact that she’s freezing. In the summer months she always makes sure the ice cube tray is full, holding one against your neck or wrists, cooling down your blood, reminding you that it’s going to be okay.

Olivia encourages you into a physical activity, knowing that morning runs will help you burn off the extra adrenaline coursing through you, she enlists Amaro to teach you some boxing techniques, taking out your emotions that way.

You very well know what she’s doing, but you won’t admit it to her, simply coming home to her with a smile on your face, kissing her softly as you tell her how much you love her.

Olivia’s always going to keep a careful eye on you, watching for signs that she knows mean you’re slipping into a state of overstimulation, making sure you’re getting enough sleep, getting enough healthy foods, not using alcohol to cope (or that if your are that you’re onto things like vodka soda and not scotch or red wine ‘cause they trigger it more). She always makes sure to fill your coffee with half decaf, knowing how the caffeine affects the jitter in your chest. 

Most of all she never judges you for it, she accepts it as part of who you are, and you remind her of how thankful you are of that every night. Her heart swells with the fact that she’s the only person you want to be around when you’re going through an attack, she knows it isn’t ideal, but knowing she’s the only one allowed to touch you makes it known that you love her, and only her. ___________________________

[thekristen999]

10 first lines challenge

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns! 

I was tagged by @spotsandsocks. Thank you! I’ve been a little off-grid the last week so this was a nice break

We All Fall Down

Sounds filtered through his muddled brain. Radio static. Heavy breathing. Metal creaking—no groaning. Or was that him? Was he groaning? Why was he—

Tick...Tick...Boom      

It was a good day when all their calls ended in success. An automobile accident and an incident involving a large sinkhole resolved with only minor injuries. If they took 10th street back to the firehouse, then his and Eddie’s shift would end, and they could find some alone time.

We’ve Got Fun & Games

Giddiness ran through Buck’s veins. He stretched his arms, his hamstrings, even his calves.

Eddie, on the other hand, leaned against a tree wearing a lazy smile like he was waiting on a weather report.

Not Today

The first time Eddie encountered death was at his Tía Lula’s bedside. He held her limp hand, whispering thanks for all the times they baked cookies together, for the days spent outside in her lazy hammock, or playing with her cats.

bro·ken

The last place in the world Buck wanted to be was in one of the worst neighborhoods in the middle of the warehouse district. But his rent was due in a couple of weeks and his savings account was already depleted. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

The Shape Of Water

Pennsylvania was made up of trees and mountains. Every day was just another shade of gray.

We're In This Together Now

Eddie stared out through the window of the fire truck counting the number of billboards rushing past. Occasionally, he risked a glance in Buck’s direction, confirming that Buck was also staring out a window. Both trying to ignore the other.

Whatever It Takes To Find You

Buck dumped double portions of beef stew and mashed potatoes onto his plate. It was 2000 hours and breakfast had been at the crack at dawn. This morning's training with the 75th regiment had lasted four hours longer than needed because of a sand storm.

Hand Covers Bruise

Eddie had always wanted to kiss and touch Buck. To know him in every way possible. But he’d never expected the raw physical pleasure of it, of having Buck's long, lean torso over him, Eddie’s hands clutching at Buck’s shoulders. The intimacy of skin on skin, the adrenaline spike that coursed through him with the mere presence of Buck naked in his bed.

Misadventures In The Great Outdoors      

Buck had been humming with energy ever since he and Eddie got off duty. Today was the day to hit the road, just the two of them, finally.  He was giddy. Buck couldn’t remember the last time he felt so excited and he put all that excess adrenaline to good use by filling the back of Eddie’s truck with their gear.

This was fun to see :)

 Tagging a few who might want to play

@renecdote @shortsighted-owl @fleurdebeton @homerforsure @mellaithwen @megsvstheworld @spaceprincessem @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @the-likesofus @alyxmastershipper @wildlife4life @jacksadventuresinwriting

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: And Yet Here He Was

Masterlist  -  Read on AO3

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Javier Peña

Words: 2,573

Summary: Set during There Will Be a Future (season 1, ep 5) immediately after Carrillo’s phone call with Escobar, Carrillo finds himself somewhere he really shouldn’t be but can’t seem to stay away from.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Infidelity, angst, smut including handjobs, body worship I guess, nipple play, comeplay, slight hint of an authority kink, slight power dynamics, brief dirty talk, biting/marking, swearing, drinking, smoking. 

Notes: I have no idea how this happened tbh?? 👀 I mostly did it as a way to give my brain a break from OHDH and I wanted to write something er, a bit different involving these two lol. I’ve also had thoughts about Carrillo in the rain for a while stemming from that phone call scene, so it felt like a good starting point for the fic. (Oh and for anyone who cares about OHDH, I’m hoping to get back working on it over the weekend, I’ve just needed a break from it, but fear not, I’m still hopelessly in love with this ship ❤️)

The surge of adrenaline hit him like a tidal wave as soon as he hung up. An unrelenting stream of raindrops ran off the tip of his nose and into his mouth as he took several steadying breaths in fear of his heart hammering right out of his chest. He was soaked through to the bone, and his light summer jacket did little but cling uncomfortably to his broad frame. It reminded him of the weighted rucksacks he would have strapped to his shoulders during gruelling training drills back at the academy. A sensation he was all too used to these days, albeit for different reasons.

He walked without paying attention to where he was going, his head swimming with the barrage of threats that had just been spat into his ear like potent venom. Not that he hadn’t given as good as he got as well, and it was him who had made the call in the first place.

It was surreal to have now spoken to the man he’d hunted and listened in on for years. It felt familiar when it shouldn’t. Like it was long overdue after chasing shadows all this time. Getting under Escobar’s skin so viscerally had been a cathartic power trip, and it hummed and buzzed through his veins like an electric current on the verge of short-circuiting if he didn’t find a release for it soon.

Somewhere in the last couple of blocks, he’d taken a detour he hadn’t meant to, subconsciously drawn towards a building he had no logical reason to be in the vicinity of. Somewhere he’d tried to stay away from as much as possible, as it was a road he couldn’t go down. And yet here he was. He knew he should turn around and head back to his hotel. He wasn’t due to fly back to Medellín until the following morning, but it was already well past midnight, so all he had to do was go to his room, dry off and fall into bed for a few hours. And yet here he was.

He paced outside the offending door, battling with his conscience whilst he dripped like a wet dog all over the tiles in the corridor. Eventually, he knocked, fearing someone might walk by and recognise him if he loitered any longer.

Several painful seconds passed whilst he waited, dread and embarrassment settling in the pit of his stomach at his own presumption anyone would even be in. Or if anyone was in, that they’d be alone. That latter thought clawed at his chest more than the former, and he was just about to flee the scene and his own foolishness when the door opened.

“Hey?” Javier asked rather than greeted, obviously confused by the late-night interruption. “What are you -” He cut himself off as he took in Horacio’s appearance, which seemed to answer some questions whilst raising several new ones.

“Can I come in?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed; the loaded nature of what should have been a simple question apparently not lost on him. “Er...yeah. Yeah, sure,” he replied in the end. An attempt to be casual, but he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.

Horacio crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him, sensing they had both just failed an unspoken test of resolve. He clutched his fists at his sides with such force his blunt nails dug into his palms and left crescent-shaped imprints. For a moment, he stood statue-still in the hallway, breaths coming in shallow bursts that he couldn’t hide despite his best efforts.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Javier asked from behind his drinks cabinet, where he’d already grabbed an additional glass to join his own. He poured stiff measures in both tumblers and held one aloft for Horacio.

It was an enticing invite that Horacio was too weak to resist, especially when he was this wired and pent-up. Which was why he moved away from the door, taking the drink from Javier with a nod of thanks.

He wasted no time in downing it in one, glad of the intense heat hitting his throat and taking the edge off the icy chill spreading through his body. “Caught up with an old friend on my way home,” he replied cryptically, as he held his glass out for Javier to immediately refill.

Like many of their interactions, Javier read between the lines, understanding so much from so few words. “Right.” He obliged Horacio and poured him another drink against his better judgement. “But why come here?” An unnecessary question that insulted both of their intelligence, but he persevered with this charade in any case. Far simpler than the alternative. “Shower in your hotel broken?”

“Something like that.” There was danger in the wild look he pinned Javier with over the rim of his glass. Unpredictable and volatile, it made Javier wonder whether Horacio wanted to kill or fuck him. The former would somehow be easier and less devastating to accept for both men, but they never did opt for an easy life.

Javier downed his own whiskey, hoping the comforting fog of alcohol would be enough to diffuse whatever this was. As if any of his best decisions ever came from heavy drinking.

Horacio placed his empty glass down and stalked towards Javier as though he was his captured prey. His balled-up fists re-emerged, along with laboured breaths that didn’t have anything to do with his drenched state. The smell of whiskey and stale cigarettes was overpowering at such close proximity; neither sure whose scent they were inhaling, nor if it even mattered anymore.

“You must be freezing in those wet clothes,” Javier whispered, barely able to keep the tremble out of his own voice.

As if to emphasise Javier’s point, Horacio shuddered from head-to-toe whilst his fingers twitched restlessly at his sides. His palms opened involuntarily like a Venus Fly Trap preparing to devour its next meal. He tried to close them back up, but instead, one flew to Javier’s chest and pushed him against the nearby wall.

Heavy panting filled the apartment as Horacio’s left hand thumped into the wall, the gold band encircling his finger connecting abruptly with the plaster and pinching against his skin. Their mouths were almost touching, but not quite. Not yet. Not ever, Horacio thought as he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut like he was in severe agony.

He didn’t move any closer, but he knew that last thought was a naïve lie. A flimsy excuse for a defence that had long since crumbled around him. He wouldn’t be here if it was the truth. He’d have gone back to his hotel, called Juliana to let her know he was safe – because she worried when he was away - and would probably be fast asleep by now. And yet here he was.

“Take them off, then.”

“What?” Javier scoffed as if there was any way he could have misheard or misunderstood such a clear and concise instruction.

“I said, take them off.” There was more authority in his request this time. As though he was dishing out a standard, run-of-the-mill order to his men, and yet, on this occasion, it sent immediate shockwaves to Javier’s groin.

Javier didn’t need telling a third time. In fact, he didn’t really need telling at all because he could never deny Horacio anything – least of all an offer as tempting as this - even when he should. Even when alarm bells were ringing in his ears and a voice in his head was telling him to run.

So, naturally, he ignored every single red flag and reached up to the metal zipper dangling at Horacio’s chest. He willed his hand to remain steady as he teased it open, their shared gaze never faltering even when their breathing did. Next, he worked the densely soaked fabric over Horacio’s shoulders. Slow yet deliberate movements along the robust muscle of his arms, dragging the sleeves over his wrists and letting the jacket drop to the floor.

Javier’s task wasn’t complete yet, but he paused. He was mesmerised and paralysed by the way Horacio’s saturated shirt moulded to his torso like a second skin, even more so than his tighter-than-should-be-allowed-by-Colombian-law wardrobe choices usually did. His nipples were hard enough to cut glass and protruded tantalisingly through the thin material. Javier had admired from afar for longer than he cared to remember, so now he was this close, he couldn’t resist running his palm across each one in turn. Spurred on by the way Horacio sucked in air through gritted teeth in a bid to bite back the moan clinging to the tip of his tongue.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Javier dipped his head, engulfing a nipple through the barrier of the fabric. His saliva quickly mixed with the rainwater as he mouthed like a man starved, giving Horacio’s shirt even more of a transparent sheen. The groan that erupted from Horacio as he gently bit down made Javier throb in his jeans, especially when he felt the urgent grip of fingers tugging at his hair.

Javier repeated the motion across both nipples, and with his whole chest now glistening, Horacio pulled Javier’s head up. Their mouths finally crashed together in a fatal frenzy of tongue and teeth, the floodgates they had desperately tried to hold back for so long breaking apart. There was no stopping them now.

Neither could be sure when Horacio’s shirt was shed, but several popped buttons scattered across the floor. An ironic casualty of Javier’s impatience given how long he’d waited for this. Not that he thought of it as waiting because he never expected anything to happen. No matter how much they might have danced around it, flirted with it, lured the other to the precipice and back again. No matter how much they understood each other’s darkness in a way no one else could.

He assumed the guilt would kick in at some point, although in the heat of the moment, his moral compass swung in all directions. When it came to it, he figured he could justify this as not being the worst thing either of them had done. Because it wasn’t by far. And if Horacio’s wife knew everything her darling husband had been up to, she would no doubt come to the same conclusion.

Eager fingers fumbled past flies and belt buckles, finding a firm rhythm as foreheads butted and shaky gasps replaced frantic kisses. Javier’s free hand snaked up Horacio’s bare chest, squeezing the thick, luscious walls of pectoral muscle and wondering what it would feel like to fuck himself between them as he’d done with several female bedfellows in the past. He growled lowly at that thought, his cock twitching as Horacio’s teeth sank into the soft flesh of his exposed neck.

There was no need for Horacio to remove Javier’s shirt, as he seldom fastened the top half of his buttons in any case. It gave Horacio unrestricted access as he kissed and sucked greedily at one particular patch of skin. He knew he’d hit a sweet spot from the way Javier mewled and bucked his hips, so Horacio couldn’t resist leaving his mark. A reminder. Proof. Evidence. It was reckless and stupid, but then all of this was.

With a few more nips and strokes, Javier was done for. He quivered violently in Horacio’s hold, his plump lips forming the most beautifully debauched pout as he came with a silent cry. Thick, hot spurts trickled over Horacio’s hand, which Javier grabbed without hesitation and pulled out of his jeans. He directed it towards Horacio’s own chest, and he soon got the hint.

Horacio’s decorated torso once again glinted in the light and made Javier salivate so furiously, he almost drooled. He bent his head and laved his tongue in a long sweep across Horacio’s chest, swirling over and sucking at each nipple, the scratch of his moustache only adding to the sensation. All the while, his hand remained clamped around Horacio’s cock, working him faster the more Horacio squirmed and fisted his fingers at the back of Javier’s head.

“Should’ve known you were a tit man,” Horacio ground out. His words were the only leverage he had left now that his body and mind were both betrayed and the betrayer.

“Can you blame me?” Javier looked up with a dark, ravenous glint in his eye, his lips slick and bristles glossy. He placed both hands on Horacio’s pecs, expertly massaging and pushing them together with deft, confident fingers. “They look good enough to fuck.”

That was the final straw for Horacio as his last line of defence collapsed, and he succumbed in more ways than one. He just about had enough time to shove Javier’s hand back where it had previously been before his eyes slammed shut with a half-sigh, half-snarl. Currents of white-hot pleasure finally flowed freely through his body, alleviating every ounce of tension that had consumed him after his phone call with Escobar.

Horacio hadn’t yet floated down from his high when he manoeuvred Javier’s hand up to his own mouth. He thoroughly licked and sucked each digit, then captured Javier’s lips in a kiss that somehow managed to be as equally tender as it was erotic.

They didn’t move or talk whilst they recovered and caught their breath back; neither man quite sure what to say or do after the fact.

“You can shower here if you want,” Javier offered as he lit up a cigarette once they’d broken apart. Casual-but-not yet again.

“Thanks,” was all Horacio managed in response. Torn between needing to remove any trace of what they’d just done and wanting to fall asleep that night surrounded by the smell of sex. And Javier, who he knew by now there was nothing casual about whatsoever.

He took Javier up on his offer, though. Whilst he lathered up the soap across his torso, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to view simple acts like this in the same light now. Each time his fingers or his clothing – or his wife – brushed against his chest, his mind would be back here. Lost in heady flashbacks of every touch, taste and sound. Where even the mere memory was enough to cause his spent cock to stir. Which was when he realised just how fucked he really was. How fucked his marriage probably was. How fucked his rationalisation was of being unable to accept a bribe, but being able to do this and much worse.

And that was why he should have left as soon as he’d showered. He should have forced himself to struggle back into his wrecked clothes before trying to cleanse himself of his sins in the deluge outside. He should have attempted to dry his clothes over the lukewarm heater in his bare and basic hotel room. Making do until he got home, where Juliana would no doubt have a clean, dry, neatly ironed identical outfit waiting faithfully for him to change into.

Much more sensible than staying over in Javier’s apartment. With his clothes folded over the heated rail in the bathroom, whilst he lay naked in Javier’s bed passing cigarettes back and forth. Or tangled beneath Javier’s sheets, acting out their earlier verbal exchange. Or dozing in the dark with Javier encased in his arms after wearing themselves out from rounds two and three.

And yet here he was.

[ynscrazylife]

i’m a simple gal...... i like seeing natasha being overprotective and a little homicidal SO could i please request some cute mentor!almost itherlynat x reader? maybe reader gets badly hurt during training or someone on the team hurts her feelings? mamabear stabs? 🥺

More Than A Mentor | n.r fluff fic

Summary: After an accident, Y/N realizes her and Natasha’s relationship goes beyond mentor and mentee.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting! I’ve missed writing Marvel/Natasha.

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/marvelocks

Natasha was not an easy mentor, and Y/N learned that quickly. She was understanding and patient, yes, but she also knew when to push Y/N and went to be a little stricter. 

The thing was, Y/N was never completely sure what side she’d get of her mentor at what time - though she found herself not having to worry about it after . . . The Accident. 

That disastrous day would go down in the team’s history, yet no one liked to talk about it. It was a day Y/N would never forget: it changed . . . everything.

It was one of the rare days that Y/N wasn’t training with Natasha. She had a meeting with Fury so Steve filled in for her. Y/N was not accustomed to training with a super soldier, and had to quickly adjust (it didn’t make it any easier that he had his shield, too). 

She was doing well - at least, she wanted to think that she was - and so far had deflected almost every punch from Steve, managing to get one or two punches against him herself. 

Nonetheless, the air was knocked out of her when Steve slammed her against the mat. She grunted, angry only fueling the pain when she saw that stupid smirk on his face, and used that to her advantage; he wouldn’t expect her to recover so quickly (and in truth, neither did she) but she did it anyway, throwing all her weight against the Captain. She secured he legs around his waist like Natasha taught her and, using the strength in her legs and pushing his broad shoulders, just about managed to get herself out from being pinned on the mat. Now, though, they were both sorta sitting on the mat, so Y/N kneed him in the chest, pushing him down. 

“You’re good,” he whispered, just slightly out of breath, before he - seemingly without using any strength at all - threw her to the side where she rolled. 

Y/N cursed under her breath, getting her feet. It was impossible to win against a super-soldier! Think, Y/N, think, what did Natasha teach you? Cmon! 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve grabbing his shield, and got in a stance to either catch it or evade it - she hadn't decided yet - when yells distracted her. In her hyped up, adrenaline-pumped state, the first thing that came to Y/N’s mind was that someone was hurt. She was about to call of the training when a large, solid force smacked into her stomach, sending her flying into the air where she hit the wall, losing consciousness. 

Steve's eyes widened, not thinking it’d actually hit her, and jumped into action. “Who the hell screamed?” The blonde yelled as he ran to his fallen teammate. He carefully turned her on her back and looked her over for injuries, seeing bruises and bleeding starting to form on her stomach and ankle and her head bleeding. 

Bucky and Sam practically crashed inside the room, trying to beat each other. 

“He threatened me!” Sam exclaimed. 

“He tried to steal my metal arm!” Bucky defended. 

Both men came to a screeching halt when they digested the scene, though. Steve rolled his eyes at his idiotic friends and tried to put pressure on Y/N’s head wound. “Sam, get Bruce, please. Tell him to prepare med - and Bucky, get Natasha. She’ll want to be here,” he ordered, and the men nodded, guilty. 

Steve carefully picked Y/N up in his arms and hoisted her into the air, carrying her to med where Bruce and Helen were, Sam explaining the situation to them. Instantly, Helen jumped into action. She instructed Steve to lay Y/N down on one of the med’s beds and then ushered the men out of the room, where she then began grabbing various medical things and assessing Y/N’s injuries, instructing Bruce to hook her up to an IV.

Steve and Sam stood outside, not saying a word to each other, both pacing back and forth. They did not have to be silent for long, though, because pounding footsteps soon approached and the men looked up to see a very furious Natasha with Bucky trailing behind her. 

The redhead’s eyes fell onto the closed med doors and huffed, turning back to Steve. “I leave her with you for training one day and she gets hurt?!” She demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at him. 

Steve swallowed. “Nat, I-” He began to say, but was cut off. 

“What happened?” Natasha asked. 

Steve glanced up at her, first irritated when she asked him a question and then interrupted him whilst he was answering, but backed off when he saw the urgency, the nervousness in her eyes; she was scared. Scared that Y/N was really hurt and guilty. 

“We were training. I threw my shield at her, expecting her to catch it or duck . . . But Sam and Buck distracted her and it hit her,” he said, not wanting to throw his friends under the bus but also knowing he had to be truthful.

Natasha stood in place, processing the information. She took a breath, and had almost completely calmed down when Bucky decided to open his mouth.

“Y’know, if anything we tested her. What if someone yelled during a mission? Is she gonna get distracted then?” He mumbled, not really meaning it but wanting to spare him and Sam Natasha’s wrath.

Karma’s a bitch, though, because it did the exact opposite.

If you blinked you’d miss it: Natasha swiftly turned and pushed Bucky against the wall, pinning him there with his hands above his hand.

“Don’t you dare start blaming this on Y/N, you hear me?” She said in a low tone, glaring.

Bucky quickly nodded and Natasha released him. When she did, the door opened and Helen appeared.

“She’ll be okay—” Helen began, and Natasha let out a breath of relief, “—but she does need to be off training for at least a month. She has a concussion, broken ankle, and . . . the shield sort of stabbed her in her stomach.”

It took a couple moments for all four to digest this. Steve paled and Natasha’s crossed arms for tighter as she bit her lip. “Can I see her?” She asked.

“She’s still unconscious, but yes,” Helen answered, nodding.

Natasha almost failed to contain the gasp lurching to leave her throat when she saw Y/N, all bandaged up. The spy gulped and sat down beside her, not knowing what else to do other than sit there, and had no clue what she’d say when Y/N woke up because she sure as hell wasn’t leaving her. Thankfully, Natasha had some time to think it out.

Almost a day later and Natasha hadn’t left — Clint had convinced her to go sleep and eat for a couple hours, but that was it — and now, Y/N woke up.

“Ms. Romanoff?” Y/N murmured in a haze of confusion, squinting her eyes to see her mentor curled up in a chair, reading a big book.

Natasha snapped her head up and immediately sat forward, a smile covering her face. “Y/N! You’re awake? How are you feeling? And how many times have I told you to call me ‘Natasha’?”

Y/N blushed but nodded. “I’m fine, probably the painkillers’ doing though . . . How long was I out?” She said.

“Around a day,” Natasha answered.

“Did you . . . Did you stay here?” Y/N asked again, a little smaller this time, playing with her blanket.

“Most of it, yeah,” Natasha murmured, relaxing into the chair.

“Really? You’re-you’re not mad?” Y/N said, eyes wide and jaw dropped in surprised.

Natasha scrunched her face up. “What? No — of course I’m not mad! You’re like my daughter! How could I be—?”

Natasha was cut off by Y/N’s loud, yet thankful gasp. The teenager sat up and wrapped her arms around Natasha and, after a moment, Natasha smiled and wrapped her arms around her too.

Y/N truly was like her daughter, and mothers were always protective over their children.

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[cow-smells]

Eli/Hawk x Reader: Changes

Request: Can you do a Hawk x reader where they are dating since a long time and y/n tries to handle with his change from Eli to Hawk? @sophiahardy912

A/N: Thought I’d write all cutesy lovey dovey fluffy smutty things but then this angst came out? sorry if i failed you idk what happened here

Words: 2054

Warning: A few cuss words

----

Eli wasn't... Eli anymore.

Not just in a metaphorical way – he was Hawk now, inside and out. At first it was a refreshing change – you loved Eli back when he was introverted and lacking in confidence, but now Eli loved himself, and that was surely better.

    Confidence is a good thing. Right?

You remembered the day he texted you 'Dig it?' attached to a photo of him – classic brunette gone, dyed down and gelled up to a Blue Mohawk.

The phrase 'dig it' by itself was previously foreign to the boy, so of course the new bold hairstyle was a big shock for you. Not a bad one, just unexpected. Even more unexpected was the new attitude that came with it.

When Eli walked up to you the next day at school, he adopted a strut that came with his new hair and attire. You almost didn't recognize him without one of the comfy sweaters he previously would wear, the ones you would steal borrow when you'd go over to his on date night.

    It had been a while since you had one of those date nights – Eli wasn't fond of spending too much time in public, always feeling like people were staring at his lip – so you'd often spend the night at his house, watching some horror movie late in to the night, laughing together at cheap, unconvincing productions. Or, even better – clinging to him when a movie really was scary, finding an excuse to casually entwine yourself around him. You loved how he would turn red every time, as though you haven't been together for a long time now.

The last date night you two had was... unusual, yet exciting all the same.

Eli had been Hawk for a while now, and things were taking a turn for the worse. At first it was nice – Eli would link your pinkie fingers together under the table at lunch, Hawk would put his arm around you as you two walked down the hallways between classes. Eli cowered when anyone would so much as look at him; Hawk would shut down anyone who tried to start with him.

You didn't mind it, so to speak, when he got in to a fight with his former bullies. You were worried, of course, but Hawk knew how to handle himself. He beat the shit out of them and after years of Kyler and co taunting him, it felt like fair karma at play. You were actually proud. Hawk came home on cloud nine that day and you were all for being his cheerleader; it ended up being a night of great celebrations.

However, these days he was getting exceedingly violent with anyone who would look at him wrong. It was one thing paying back those who wronged him, but the whole karate thing was getting out of hand; it came to a red line for you once you saw his treatment of Demetri, the only one other than you and Miguel who accepted him far before he accepted himself.

You two had gotten in to a serious argument, Hawk stating that Demetri's treatment is his own doing for being such a nerd, you telling him to grow up.

A couple of days went by with you giving him the silent treatment. Hawk thought he'd just slide in by you the next day at lunch, kiss you and everything would be fine – but you weren't having it. If he didn't mind throwing Demetri under the bus so quickly, how long until that was you instead?

Not talking to Eli proved harder to do than you thought. After so long together it was strange, suddenly having this wall between you two. It had only been a couple of days of you riding the bus to school rather than on his motorcycle with him and you already felt an insistent pit in your stomach that refused to go away, no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself with schoolwork and your other friends.

So unsurprisingly, when Hawk texted you asking you to meet him at an unfamiliar address, you agreed.

It was dark out – the only people you saw around the road you were going down were a couple of shady looking dudes, only obviously under the influence.

You checked your phone again to make sure you were going the right way.

    “You made it!”

Eli's voice startled you, making you look up from your phone. Illuminated by the blue florescent lights from the shop he stood outside of, he seemed... relieved.

    “Yeah,” you answered simply, your eagerness to make up disapparating in to an unconfident hesitation. “what are we doing out here?”

    “Look,” Hawk took one of your hands in his. “I don't wanna lose you. And if that means being nicer to Demetri or whoever of those dorks, whatever. I can live with that. But not without you.”

You hated how he knew exactly what to say, even if it wasn't prefect. It was enough.

    “You didn't answer,” you said, allowing a flirtatious tone to creep up. “What are we doing here?”

Eli smiled, a smile that was more Hawk than Eli, and pulled you in to the shop after him, knowing he was well on his way to winning you over.

    “This is my guy, Rico,” Hawk introduced, fist bumping the older man. Between the familiar name, funny looking chair and sketches on the walls, you knew exactly where you were and what was about to happen.

    “Eli?” you tentatively called as Hawk guestued for you to sit in a chair behind the funky-looking one. Rico adjusted said chair and motioned for Hawk to come over. Eli sat on the chair, his back to you.

    “You sure about this?” Rico asked, preparing ink on a side table. “Sure,” Hawk answered confidently.

Naturally, your curiosity got you up on your feet towards Eli's other side – of course you wanted to know what he was getting inked – but Hawk quickly protested.

    “Stay over there!” he scolded playfully. “It's a surprise.”

The machine started buzzing and even though it wasn't you who was getting anything done, adrenaline started rushing, making you a giddy mess, forgetting all about your previous fight. As needle pierced skin, you spent the time waiting making assumptions over what Hawk was getting on him – at first you guessed the Cobra Kai snake, later guessing Sensei Lawrence in a heart – a suggestion that made Eli laugh particularly hard, in that way that he used to laugh when it was just the two of you (this earned a scolding from Rico, who couldn't get the work done if his canvas was jittering about).

It must have been twenty minutes at best before Hawk rose from the chair and turned to you, gesturing to the new piece over his heart – a heart with your name in it.

Was it possible to have your heart sink and jump simultaneously? On the one hand, you were realistic, and there would probably come a day where he'd regret this – a thought that made you sick. On the other hand, it was the most romantic thing you've ever experienced, and it was unlikely for anyone else to ever top that.

What was done was done, so you shoved aside any negativity and allowed yourself to revel in the love you felt, showering Hawk with kisses that quickly turned in to a deep, longing kiss – until Rico politely suggested you take the show elsewhere.

    Apparently “being nicer to Demetri” meant ignoring him altogether, besides some threatening looks. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the alternative, so you let go of it despite it seeming like Hawk was constantly on the edge.

You were ready for another date night – the first since the tattoo parlor – ready to get away from school and its drama, just to spend some quality time with your boyfriend.

Now that he wasn't shy anymore, he suggested going to see a film in an actual movie theatre, which was exactly what you were doing.

The two of you split up – you needed to go to the bathroom so Hawk stood in line for tickets. By the time you had come out you had lost sight of your boyfriend – the crowd around the ticket stalls had suddenly increased.

    “You looking for someone?” a male voice asked. Turning around, a couple of guys you didn't know were approaching you. “Think you'd have more fun with us.”

Just as they reached you, a hand grabbed your arm. You were relieved to turn and see Eli – but he wasn't even looking at you. His eyes were locked with one of the guys – you could feel the tension in the air.

     “Eli, no,” you whispered firmly. His grip on you tightened, moving you aside – but you weren't going to stand for it. You stepped in front of him, grabbing hold of him as he did to you. “You start something, I walk.” your voice was low, not wanting those guys to hear, but serious enough to make Hawk understand you weren't playing around.

With a grunt, he looked down at you, took your hand and walked away.

You optimistically thought the worst was blown over.

You and Hawk were waiting outside the theatre to be let in, chatting away when Hawk stopped you mid sentence with a kiss.

Another pleasant surprise about Eli's newfound confidence was how willing he was to show affection to you publicly, while before you two could pass off as acquaintances at best.

It was rather random but you accepted the kiss – even when he deepened it, getting closer to you, pulling you closer to him.

His hands started sliding lower.

It wasn't anything you haven't done in the privacy of your bedrooms, but to get that intimate in public, in broad daylight – it was too much for your liking.

    “Eli -” you called, pushing away from him. He didn't allow it.

Pulling your hips to his with one hand on your bum, his other went up to hold your chin, tilting it back to grant him access. He managed to hold you for a moment before you mustered up the power to push him a few steps away from you.

    Hawk was visually surprised – whether because of you or himself, you were unsure.

    “What the fuck was that?” you asked, not bothering to keep your voice down this time.

Despite trying so hard to become this new person, new Eli still had old Eli's tells – and a quick glance he threw aside told you everything you needed to know.

Following his line of sight, the two guys from earlier stood there, watching the scene unfold.

    “So that's what this is about?” you huffed. “some territory marking thing?”

Hawk struggled to gather his words, his bottom lip bobbing wordlessly a couple of times before he spoke. “Look, you didn't want me to take care of it out there, so-”

     “So you do whatever you want with me? Like I'm nothing?”

    “Y/n, you know it's not like that-”

    “So what is it like?”

When Hawk didn't immediately respond, you turned on your heel to the exit. Hawk followed you outside.

    “Come on, Y/n, you know I'd never hurt you!”

    “You just did!” you yelled back. “you... I don't know you anymore, and I say that in the worst way.”

    “What,” Hawk huffed, “you want me to go back to being a pansy? 'Cause that's not going to happen.”

    “You know what's the worst out of all this?” you asked, coming to face Hawk. “at first I thought it was cool, you being all tough. Seeing Kyler become afraid of you. I thought it was great. But now... Now I'm afraid of you.”

Hawk frowned, the realization dawning upon him. “C'mon...” he lifted his shirt to show the heart tattoo dedicated to you. “Doesn't this mean anything to you?”

    “Make it mean something.” you replied with a heavy heart, taking a step back and left, leaving Hawk standing alone in the parking lot.

[adorerdraco]

It’s Only Quidditch ✧ Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Request: can i please request you and draco being in slytherin and dating for a while and you two are on the quidditch team with him so maybe you two are in a match together but you get hurt and he gets worried and has to win the game and visits you after and maybe even wrecks the person who hurt you hehe just fluff and angst

AU AROUND 6TH YEAR NO VOLDY

Warnings: angry!draco, vengeful!draco, VIOLENCE, kinda graphic details like blood and injuries, lil bit of angst

Words: 3.9K (love making these long for no reason)

A/N: ANGRY DRACO IS SO HOT IM SORRY WOW BUT I HOPE THIS IS GOOOOD PLEASE ENJOY MY MADE UP CHARACTER AND MY SUPER LONG QUIDDITCH GAME THAT CONFUSED ME AFTER A WHILE OF TRYING TO WRITE LMAO and i made gif :)

November had begun and with it came the new season of quidditch at Hogwarts along with very poor weather and over-bundling nerves. Tensions had always gotten high around this time of the year amongst the teams and all animosity between the house’s respective players was on the forefront as the competition was building. It was like clockwork every year; captain’s starting strenuous training schedules, begging Snape to help book the stadium even if it was already occupied, spying on other teams to figure out their strengths and weaknesses. Not to mention the arguments that would happen regularly in between the first couple of games when you and your teammates would be accused of cheating or using dangerous and illegal moves. Which did happen to be true most of the time.

It was safe to say that it was the most eventful time of the year, and as suffocating as it sometimes got - you looked forward to it every time the new term started. It was in quidditch that you found yourself feeling the freest in, zipping around the stadium in a flash of green with the wind blowing through your hair and crisp autumn air biting at your cheeks. But most notably, it was in quidditch that you met Draco Malfoy and had quickly evolved from teammates to friends, to him now being your boyfriend.

You made Slytherin’s team your second year as a Chaser, a shiny new broom being given to you on the first day of scheduled training when Lucius Malfoy had made a generous donation that came along with a new platinum blond seeker. With the two of you being the latest additions to the teams, your captain, Marcus Flint, had decided to leave the dirty work for the two of you to do in the downtime every one else was able to enjoy. Marcus never changed that as the years went on.

So you and Draco would be sent off to other teams’ practices nearly every other day or week, depending on how secure Flint was feeling, both of you huddling closely together for sometimes hours behind the thick wooden benches as you watched and studied tactics with conversations in between. You would joke around a lot and call him your partner in crime which he would always roll his eyes to and make a snide and playful comment about even if he secretly loved hearing it. And the two of you stayed partners in crime for a while, neither of you ever making any move towards the other besides lingering touches and longing looks, and very rarely, a shy compliment.

It wasn’t until last year when you were hiding behind the bleachers, bored out of your mind watching Ravenclaw have a flawless run through around the stadium when you were graced with the dumbest idea.

“They’re playing good today,” you drawled out, “too good that it’s boring.”

“You reckon they studied so hard and found the key to quidditch?” He snickered as he played around with a pebble on the ground with his wand.

“We should help them out,” you suggested as Draco turned to raise a puzzled eyebrow at you. “Prepare them for the unexpected, nothing too crazy.”

You took out your wand from your pocket and pointed it towards one of their Beaters that was sitting idly by on their broom, a faint “confundus” leaving your lips that caused the broom to jerk swiftly to the side and nearly topple over its rider.

“You’re a genius,” Draco laughed quietly, repositioning himself so that he was right beside you with his wand directed out into the field. He spotted one of the bludgers flying towards the same Beater and instead of colliding with the bat, he used a charm to direct it into the back of their broom and then doubled it back around to try and hit one of the passing by Chaser’s that moved at the very last minute. 

You were a giggling mess, gripping tightly onto Draco’s arm as you watched everyone begin to look around wildly for the wild bludger with panicked expressions. What either of you didn’t realize in the middle of your joyed hysterics and Draco’s smugness for causing the angelic sounds, was that the bludger was flying idly still in front of the bleacher’s as his wand was still trained on it without moving it around anymore, his focus completely gone and concentrated on you.

It wasn’t until you heard someone yell out a, “Is that Malfoy and Y/L/N back there again?!” That made you get up with a sudden jolt, grabbing onto your accomplice’s hand as you ran towards the set of stairs that descended out of the stands. All you heard was distant angry insults and threats quickly fading out of ear-shot while you ran, laughing uncontrollably alongside Draco with his hand still tightly gripped in yours. 

When you finally reached the entrance of the empty courtyard of the castle with flustered cheeks and wheezing chuckles, you looked down at your joined hands at the same time he did and after a few seconds of realization and lingering adrenaline, you quickly moved into each other with a yearning kiss that changed everything from that day forward.

Draco stood beside you while you sat on a bench outside the locker room, your head resting lazily on the side of his leg while his fingers carded soothingly through your hair. Marcus was pacing in front of you, using his broom as a walking and pointing stick whenever he wanted to add any calculated words to his very hostile pep-talks that left everyone feeling more irritated and stressed.

Today was the last game of the season and the most important, it was the game that ended the season with a shimmering Inter-House Quidditch Cup and it just so happened to be against Gryffindor, making the stakes much higher than they already were. The matches against Gryffindor were by far, the most dangerous as they weren't afraid to play roughly either if push came to shove. The determination to beat each other and to win was critical on both sides and the day always ended with some sort of injuries.

“I don’t care how dirty we have to play today,” Flint fumed to the team, “I don’t care how many fouls we get, as long as we win.”

“Relax, Flint,” you sighed deeply. “We have the best players on our team and we’ve been working our arses off all season, we’ll be fine.”

“Still, I want to see blood out there,” he muttered back, walking towards the entrance of the field as Madam Hooch started calling your team out to start.

You stood up with a huff, Draco frowning when he noticed how tense you looked when your eyes worriedly met his.

“All right, love?”

“I'm just nervous,” you shrug, “I don’t want to mess up.”

The silver-haired boy moved to stand in front of you, placing two strong hands on either side of your arms to stand you in place so that he would be the only thing your wandering eyes were able to focus on.

“You are the best Chaser that Slytherin has ever had, no, that Hogwarts has ever had and I know for a fact you’re going to do amazing out there,” he cups your face with care, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face as he spoke. “You’ve got this.”

He pressed an encouraging kiss onto your forehead and then your lips, smiling at you supportively before taking your hand and hurriedly walking the two of you out into the field where the match was about to start.

Almost the whole school had shown up in an overcrowded sea of red and gold for Gryffindor. There were red sparks and small fireworks of lions that were charmed to roar when the animal would open its mouth. On one end of the stands, however, was the entire student body of Slytherin that was throwing green and silver ribbons and sparklers from their wands, yelling loudly in support as if their life depended on it. Over the rails, they had thrown down a large poster of a snake that moved around sleekly over large green words that read, “SLYTHERIN FOR THE WIN.”

Rain was lightly drizzling from the grayed dense clouds above, a sharp chill in the air from an approaching winter that always seemed to give the worst weather during the last couple of games of the year. You didn’t mind it since the cold had always felt nice against your sweaty skin during the game and it served like a small revitalizing shock that gave you a surge of energy to push forward with. 

Madam Hooch quickly went over the rules, set free the bludgers, and the snitch, forced the two captains, Wood and Flint, to shake hands and by the time she had counted down from three to one - brooms were soared into the sky with such speed it looked like a tornado had formed as she threw the quaffle up into the air.

A roar of cheers erupted from beside you as you got ahold of the quaffle, dashing past your House while you headed straight towards the Gryffindor’s goal post and managed to make the first shot in within the first five minutes of the game putting you at 10-0. You spotted Draco flying around above, smiling down brightly at you with triumph that only fueled your confidence as you darted forward to catch the ball again. You were, just as Draco had said, the best Chaser on the team and in all of the school. You were fast, agile, and smart when it came down to it and you were the reason why your team had easily wracked up 40 points with thirty minutes down in the match. Marcus was always trailing behind you with focus, shoving anyone who tried to get to you or pulling them back by their robes that landed Slytherin a couple of fouls throughout. 

You didn’t like to play dirty, but when Katie Bell had rammed into your side either accidentally or on purpose, it knocked the quaffle out of your hands and into one of their other Chaser’s, Rowan Rees, a muscular and tall seventh-year boy that had made the team that same year. With Katie still closely trying to cut you off, you veered sharply into her with your shoulder before breaking away from her and heading towards your goal post where they were trying to shoot. 

“ILLEGAL PUSHING FROM Y/L/N, FOUL AGAINST SLYTHERIN!” 

You rolled your eyes at the announcer, completely ignoring the boo’s that had filled the air as you whizzed past the other houses even though it was you who got hit first. Just as Rees had raised his arm to score, you flew over him, swooping your arm underneath your broom until you felt the quaffle back in your palm and ripped it from his grasp. The match was becoming more intense by the second, Gryffindor was promptly catching up in points because of the penalties they were awarded from the illegal moves your team was making and it left you feeling more pressured that it was nearly a tie now, Flint reminded you of that every chance he zoomed past you.

Unbeknownst to you, Draco was watching you cautiously from across the field most of the game when he noticed how close everyone was trying to get to you. You didn’t see the way you were almost tugged back multiple times or were missed by inches when someone was about to push you. Or how the Beaters were deliberately directing the bludgers in your direction. You also didn’t see how irked you had made Rees with your constant scoring and with the sporadic few times you had cut him off or almost bumped into him - but your boyfriend did, and he was much more focused on your safety now than the Golden Snitch he or Potter hasn’t spotted yet. Instead of searching for it, he was purposefully maneuvering himself around in front of the other Chasers to throw them off their focal point towards you so that you would have a clearer path to fly through.

He watched as you pulled your broom upwards to try and twist away from the area but Rees had reached out and pulled at your ankle, sending you out of your seat as the quaffle fell while you tried to rebalance yourself. That was all the encouragement the blond needed when he hurtled down into the mess, kicking at the back of Rees’ broom and sending him quickly spinning on a dive before he could try and move any further. 

“FOUL AGAINST REES AND MALFOY FOR KICKING AND TUGGING!”

“MALFOY!” Flint roared as he flew past, “Potter’s spotted the snitch! This isn’t your place, get out of here, NOW!”

And when he looked up, sure enough, Harry was going around desperately with an arm outstretched towards the small glint of gold that was moving too fast. 

“Go, I’m fine!” You shouted out to him when you flew back up with the ball back in your arms.

It was like slow motion when he forced himself to leave your surroundings, everything around him was moving fast and intensely with everyone screaming wildly that he couldn’t think straight. In a daze, he haphazardly sped towards Harry but noticed the panicked look on the seeker’s face when he had lost sight of it again which directed his attention right back to you. You were right in front of the Gryffindor goal post, arm stretched over your head and releasing the quaffle with a harsh throw.

“Y/L/N MAKES THE GOAL, TEAMS ARE AT A TIE-”

It wasn’t until the very last minute that everyone, including you, had realized the flash of red that came hurtling into your side at full speed, Rees colliding so loudly with you that it echoed around the stadium in a powerful clang and crack.

Draco watched in horror as you were thrown off your broom, your now unconscious body falling like a rag doll with a speed that sent his stress levels into overdrive. He had never pushed down on his broom so fast, immediately abandoning his spot to bolt towards you even as Marcus was screaming at him to not go. 

A few feet above the ground and before you met it, he managed to loop his arm around your waist and heave you onto the front of his broom with a slight struggle as it was now raining hard and clouding his vision. He saw Madam Pomfrey and Mcgonagall rushing into the field, hands holding tightly onto their hats as they worriedly rushed towards the area where your broom had fallen and where Draco was hovering over with you. 

“TEAMS ARE TAKING A 10 MINUTE TIME OUT!”

Marcus had flown down towards him, face twisted in fury and annoyance as he approached. 

“Is there a reason you’re not being a seeker, today?” He spits, “because I’ve been seeing you do everything but your job.”

“My bloody girlfriend just got knocked out!” Draco seethed at him. “I’m not going back into the game, I’m going with her to the hospital wing.”

“Like hell you are,” Flint scowled, “if you leave, you'll forfeit us the game. If you stay and let Potter catch that Snitch so it’ll be over quicker, I will personally make sure that this is your last year on the team. You’re going to win this for us.”

“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall called up to him, waving her arms hastily. “She needs to go to the infirmary, immediately!”

The two Slytherins were staring each other down aggressively as Draco contemplated the threat he was just given. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to throw a hex at Flint and leave with you, but he just swallowed thickly and nodded at him before descending towards the ground and letting you off carefully into the hands of Madam Pomfrey. A surge of fear ran through his body when he finally saw you clearly; a harsh red mark was making its way up to your neck, the corner of your bottom lip had split and doubled in size, there was a small scratch on your cheekbone. It made him feel queasy, but he tore his eyes away from you and hopped back onto his broom while glaring angrily at Marcus and the distant group of huddled Gryffindor’s. 

He was blinded in rage when the match resumed and even more enraged when Flint had cheered loudly when the announcer granted Slytherin a penalty for the injury Rees gave you, allowing them basically to get a free score in against Gryffindor. Draco let his eyes wander around for the snitch for the first time that day and he could hear his heart thundering in his eardrums in distress as the rain continued to make his search worse. All he wanted was to get out of the game to check up on you, and then he'd come back to the stadium to throw his fists into Rees’ face with maybe a few hits in on Marcus.

Just as he was losing hope, he saw a flash of gold whiz past him with a loud buzzing that shocked him into alertness. He didn’t care that catching the snitch would win the game, or the cup, or give him all the glory, no - this was his ticket out. He dived towards it with his arm outstretched, hand thrashing around in the wind as he tried to eagerly catch it. In seconds, Harry was right beside him, bumping him with his shoulder to try and throw him off the path but Draco only pushed back harder. There was a flurry of shouting as everyone watched, the announcer was yelling into the mic about the seekers going head-to-head, bludgers were flying past him. 

It was pure chaos and urgency, Draco could feel the fluttering of its wings beneath his palm and when Harry pushed into him one more time, he felt the coldness of the Snitch get trapped into his enclosed hand, the vibration of its wings sending a current of relief up his arm that spread throughout his whole body as he soared up into the sky while brandishing it to the schools’ painfully watchful eyes.

“MALFOY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, WINNING SLYTHERIN THIS YEAR’S INTER-HOUSE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

Draco hurriedly made his way down to the field where the rest of his house was pooling into, celebrating proudly and calling out for him to praise, but when he landed on the ground and was met with half of the Gryffindor team including Rowan Rees - all his wrath came flooding back into him. 

Angelina, another Gryffindor Chaser, had nudged Rowan with her shoulder, pointing towards the Slytherin Prince that was stalking towards them.

“Malfoy,” Rees started bitterly, “sorry about the girlfriend, I was only trying to knock the quaffle out her hands.”

“After she had already thrown it?” He glowered, walking closer up to the boy that was beginning to straighten himself out and flex. “Looked a little personal seeing how she was dragging you through the dust the whole game.”

“Accidents happen, mate,” Rees shrugged, “it’s only quidditch, you won didn’t you? Maybe you should be thanking me for giving you that extra push to win the game.”

A clear line had been crossed and everyone who was listening knew it. But before Rowan could say anything to try and drag himself out of the hole he had just dug himself into, he was being tackled into the ground with Draco above him throwing punches wherever he could land them. There was loud hooting and laughing coming from the Slytherins that gathered around the fight, cheering loudly for their House superior.

Rees was thrashing around on the ground, trying frantically to throw off the extremely infuriated boy that was repeatedly pounding into his face with bloodied and bruised fists. Oliver Wood ran up to the sudden brawl, Fred and George following closely behind him as they all started trying to rip the fighting boy’s apart from each other. Oliver had gotten Draco off briefly, allowing Rees to try and get a hit in but it was dodged at the last second as the blond quickly leaped up to his feet. The fight immediately ended when a muddy shoe had collided with Rowan’s jaw and Draco stepped back satisfied with the damage he had done, roughly shrugging off the grip Oliver still had on his arm.

“It’s only quidditch, right?” He spat venomously from above the Gryffindor who was holding his now battered face in pain. “That’ll teach you from putting your hands on a woman too.”

“Mr. Malfoy!” Madam Hooch bellowed as she broke through the crowd in a frenzy. “50 points from Slytherin, go wait outside Professor Snape’s office for further punishment, go right now!”

Draco did go, and instantly, but he didn’t go down to the dungeons to hear about the lengthy detention that he knew he was going to get and the scolding for being reckless and stupid. His feet carried his sore body up the many stairs that led to the hospital wing, his pace picking up swiftly when he saw the large double doors of the infirmary ajar and he was able to hear a faint and familiar voice speaking indistinctly. 

He threw open the doors, walking straight in as if he owned the place and ignored Pomfrey’s requests for him to leave as he made a beeline towards your hunched figure that was facing away from him. 

“I need to see her,” he said to the nurse quickly when she stopped in front of him. “I’ll leave soon, please.”

At the sound of his voice, you hastily turned around in your spot to face him, a yelp escaping your lips for moving too quickly through your injuries. Pomfrey stepped out of the way with a sigh allowing Draco to jog over to you.

“I’m going to kill him,” he scowled when he reached you. You were wearing a sling, a deep purple and yellowed bruise quickly set itself over the side of your arm and the same cuts he saw from earlier were still scattered over your features. His fingers ghosted over your skin and he let out a deep shaky exhale of anxiousness before moving his thumb up to graze your cheek tenderly.

“What happened to you?” You asked quietly in shock when you noticed his mud-splattered clothes and tattered fists. 

“Long story,” he drawled. “Don’t worry about me, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you muttered with a slight shrug that made you whimper lightly. “Did we win?”

He nodded quietly, his eyes still scanning sadly over your face with a frown. “I swear, I’m going to kill him.”

“Only if I can help,” you sniggered faintly, trying to make light of the situation and succeeding in doing so when you saw he had cracked a small smile. With his hand still on your cheek, he bent down to press a firm kiss on the top of your hair and then warmly on the side of your mouth that wasn’t bleeding.

“I’ll just let you finish him off then,” he mulled amusingly when he pulled away.

“Finish him off?”

The doors of the hospital wing were thrown open again, a sea of red flowing inside as they carried in a pummeled Rowan with a busted lip, bloodied nose, black eye, and deeply bruised jaw. You looked briskly between Rees and Draco, both of them staring daggers at each other and it rapidly clicked in your mind why your boyfriend had looked like he just walked through a battlefield in your absence.

“Oh.”

[pan-cakez]

Rescue Drills

Am I really working on polishing this rather than studying for my quiz? Yes. yes I am. 

Character: Daichi

Genre: fluff

tags: Firefighter Daichi cuz ACAB, simulation of being in a fire.

wc: 1.1k

All new fics will be posted from @mxonigirimiya ❤❤

With his adrenaline pumping, Daichi and his team ran into the building. The neighbors stated that there were a couple people in the building, and so his job right now was to find them and get them to safety. A yell of “over here” caught his attention, and he ran over to find a young girl laying down, unmoving, with soot covering her face. 

“Is she breathing?” The firefighter who found her leaned in, and saw a soft rise and fall of her chest. Relief flooded through everyone when he nodded. Before Daichi could even speak, they took the girl out of the building. That was one person down, two more to go. They scoured the building, some pieces falling apart, and the heat starting to get to him. The crackling of the flames were so loud and it was just so bright, but Daichi was been a firefighter for so long that it didn't get to him like it used to. He started to hear creaking, and so he told the rest of his team to split up, to not put too much stress on the floor, lest it break under them. The two firefighters with him were rookies, and so he took charge, checking each room, until he saw a figure slumped over leaning onto the wall. It was clear to them that they tried to walk out, but the smoke was getting to them. As he and the rookies walked towards it, they started noticing your features, practically caked in soot. Daichi quickly runs to you, and he held you up the moment he got there. You were slipping in and out of consciousness, mumbling words that didn’t make sense to him or you. 

“We’re gonna get you out, okay? Stay with me.” Each word was barely reaching your head through your ears. Someone else helped you up as well, making sure to get you out. The radio sounded, letting him know that the others found the third person, and they had cleared the building. All four of you made your way out without incident, although you were constantly coughing up a lung as they put a respirator over your mouth. Daichi tried to help you take deep breaths but you couldn’t. It felt like your lungs were on fire with each rise and fall of your chest. 

The moment you stepped outside, they placed you on the edge of the sidewalk and gave you a soft blanket, before watching Daichi run off to talk to the other firefighters on scene. You answered all the rookies’ questions and when they cleared you to go, you made your way to Daichi.

“Thank you for saving my life, is there any way I could thank you? Over dinner perhaps?” A bashful smile played on your lips. Daichi rolled his eyes as the other firefighters near him stared at the two of you in shock.

“I knew it was a bad idea to have you here.” You could tell there’s no malice in his words. “Besides, you’re the one cooking dinner.” You scoffed at his words.

“I’m trying to make it realistic!”

“By flirting with me?”

“What’s wrong with that? People flirt with hot first responders all the time!”

“Do you?”

“I’m married to a hot first responder so I don’t have to.” He gently plucked your forehead before pulling you into his side and turning to the other firefighters watching the scene unfold. 

“This is my spouse. They asked me to take part in the drill, but I don’t think they’ll be doing any more after this one.” A pout formed on your face, and he chuckled before giving you a quick peck on the lips. He whispered to you, “Once I’m done debriefing everyone and thanking the volunteers, we could head home if you’d like? I only needed to come in for this today. I’m not on call, so the rest of my day is all yours.” 

“I like the sound of that.” He gently placed a kiss on your forehead before calling his company over. You watched as he gave pointers, commended the things people did right, and scolded them for the things he did wrong. He also thanked the other volunteers, a young girl and her dad, before returning to you.

“Ready?” You nodded and made your way to his car. “I can’t believe you’re gonna get soot in my car.” 

“Yeah, but we can clean it later. Right now, I just want you to commend my acting. It’s deserving of an Emmy or an Oscar, is it not?” Both of you made your way into the car, and Daichi started driving home.

“More like a Razzy.” You feigned offense, clutching at your chest and letting out a scoff. 

“I was excellent.”

“I was trying my best not to laugh at you. Your groans were so over the top, your coughing was so obviously fake, and you were walking as if you were in a zombie movie rather than in a drill. You are so lucky I love you cuz it was distracting.” Mumbling quietly to yourself, Daichi let out a laugh. “But hey, at least you look good in soot. You make it work.” Rolling your eyes, you faced the window, looking out at the scenery as you passed by.

“They made it super realistic.” 

“Yeah, the heat lamps, the steam, and the fire and floor creaking sounds really added to it. As well as the surround sound speakers and the shitty wood installed over the floor to make it feel unstable. The rookies could obviously tell it was a drill, but we tried our best to simulate an actual fire without, you know, actually setting the building on fire.” 

“They’re lucky they have you as a captain.”

“I try my best. The real lucky one is me for having such an understanding and involved partner. I don’t think any of them have been able to convince their spouses to volunteer, but here I am with one that asked me first. Not to mention the times where I had to run off in the middle of a date or event, or when I came back from a horrible call and needed to decompress at home, you were always so understanding and have been there for me. I couldn’t ask for a better person to be married to.” He placed a soft hand on your thigh, and you placed yours on top. Your wedding band felt warm against his hand, but it just reminded him of the warmth that you give him.

Rescue drills were a part of his job. In this line of work, mistakes can cause people to die, so time and time again Daichi has to run drills with his company, but with you there, it adds a bit of levity to an otherwise routine task, and he would always love you for that.

[hotporridgepot]

Been There

I didn't expect the first Ghosts fic I wrote to be from Julian's perspective, but this idea struck me and I can't stop thinking about it!

I've always imagined Julian to be the first one to properly talk to the Captain about his sexuality, and this is how I think that conversation would go.

It was one of Alison's "talks" that finally did it.

All it took was a sharp hairpin turn in the conversation, a misplaced comment from Kitty and bam, there it was. Button House's worst-kept secret was sent spinning across the circular space between their group therapy chairs. Julian's suddenly reminded, as the Captain evacuates the room in what looks like shock, of a news report he'd heard when he was a kid. It was of an unexploded bomb they dug up by a church. Everyone in the area had known it was there for a while, but to actually see it out in the open was something else.

Alison looks upset. Guilty, even. She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs and pulling her cardigan over her hands.

"I thought he was okay," she mumbles, staring at the empty space on the wall Cap floated through. "He seemed to - last time we had a talk, he seemed like he wanted to -"

"Oh it's my fault, Alison," Kitty wails, thumping her hands down on her skirts as though she's smacking herself. "I was the one who asked about everyone's favourite beau. I shouldn't have fussed so much, I'm so sorry, it's just-"

"Kitty, it's fine!" Alison holds up her hands. "It's not your fault, it's just...complicated."

Julian watches as the conversation trickles down its many paths again. "My cousin's cousin was gay," Pat's saying to a bewildered Mary. Fanny's muttering about how she had no idea, Robin couldn't seem to care less, and Humphrey's still on the other side of the room asking for a rundown on what happened.

"Do you think he's alright?" Alison says.

Julian shrugs. "Damned if I know."

But the thing is, Julian does know. And the answer is most definitely no.

It might be a bit of an absurd conversation for the rest of the ghosts, but he's different. He comes from the time of - of gaydars, of Canal Street, of "metrosexual" plastered across the front of the Daily Mirror. Of Elton. Freddie. George. Coming out was a thing when he died. To pick up the vibe from someone simply wasn't done in Robin's time, nor Mary's. Nor even Pat's, really.

"I should probably go and see where he is," Julian says, feigning nonchalance.

No one responds. Alison's already on the other side of the room, complaining to Mike about "ghost stuff". Julian thumbs toward the back wall.

"Anyone wanna - no? Just me? Alright."

It doesn't take long to find the Captain. Whenever he's in any kind of sulk he always migrates to the window in the television room, staring at the gate outside like he's expecting someone to walk through it.

Now that he's here, Julian's not sure what to say. Best to try and get on Cap's level, really. Some more personal experience sharing. Alison would be proud.

"I've been there, you know," Julian says. It makes the Captain jump, a hand clutched to his chest before he turns back around and ignores Julian. "A couple of times, actually."

Cap sighs. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"New Year's Eve, 1971," Julian goes on, sauntering into the room. He's good at this, he decides. "That was the first time. We were absolutely spangled on a fat bottle of Haig, started playing strip poker and before you know it, my second moon landing was -"

"Blast it, Julian, this isn't about sex!"

The Cap's outburst stops Julian short. He backs up, wincing a bit as the Captain turns to face him. Julian's never seen any of them except for Kitty and Thomas cry, but he reckons that this is the stoic army equivalent. There's a deep, grey heaviness in the Captain's eyes, like something's been keeping him awake for a century.

It hits Julian, with a wave of shame and embarrassment he's very much not used to, how the older ghosts must see him. While he'd definitely be on the way to retirement were he still alive, he's a baby to the likes of Fanny and the Captain. A thoughtless, boisterous, fraternity-going thrillseeker. Shit-brained Bullingdon boy.

He isn't that, though. Not anymore. He's lived past that. He's died past that.

His own escapades might have been the wrong place to start. He realises now there are much more valuable things he could be saying; now, Julian suddenly remembers the other side of it all. Because he also comes from the time of Section 28. The AIDS crisis. Newspapers talking about a "gay gene". Newspapers spitting what Julian knew even then to be pure lie and vitriol.

He knows it's a big deal that the Captain just blurted it out in what looked like a fit of adrenaline that came and went against his will. To think of all those years, every second of Cap's life and afterlife built upon this cornerstone of a secret...it tugs at something in Julian's chest. It - well, it's a rotten thing.

Cautiously, Julian steps forward until he's sat opposite the Captain on the windowsill. He mumbles a "sorry" and clears his throat.

"Gets talked about these days, you know," Julian tries. "Like that wedding that came here, remember? It's a...thing."

A lame end to the sentence, but hey ho. It is a thing now.

Then the Captain clears his own throat. "I know it's a thing," he says pompously, "but it doesn't quite feel like my thing, if you catch my drift."

Julian frowns. "Wait, so you're not gay?"

"No, of course I - see, even that word! 'Gay'. It meant something completely different in my lifetime," the Captain says, fiddling with the buttons on his coat maniacally as though he wants them to fall off. "I feel so terribly out of touch for having kept it all inside for so long, that I can't possibly reduce it to the inconsequence people make of it today. I don't quite know how to navigate any of it. If it's even worth navigating, now that there's nothing I can do with the information."

Julian nods. It's making so much sense now. Poor sod.

"We all went in different directions after uni," Julian goes on. "Well, to some extent. One of the lads I romped about with is -"

The Captain pinches the bridge of his nose. "Julian, I said this wasn't about -"

"No, no, listen! I was going to say, one of the lads is married to a man now. Another one decided it wasn't for him and never did it again."

Cap's listening now. "...And as for you?"

Julian shrugs. "S'not something I thought about much when I wasn't up to the eyeballs in booze, but I suppose I'm - oh, I'd say 90 percent for women, 10 percent for men." Cautiously, he leans forward. "See? People still talk about that, too. Working out how you feel and all that malarkey. There's not really one way to about it, if I'm honest. There's never been one way about it."

The Captain's face softens, some of the heaviness in his eyes melting away.

"It doesn't matter who knows what, mate. Just give yourself some time."

"I've got plenty of that," Cap chuckles.

The sun's high in the sky now, beating feverishly hot through the window.

"You up for a bit of volley on the green? Humphrey's been begging us to play."

The Captain looks out the window at the grass, then back to the gate. "Not now, thank you. I'll watch from up here."

"Suit yourself." Julian gets up to go, something blooming in his chest he hasn't felt since he was alive. It's been a while since he truly helped someone, he thinks, and he's proud of it. Proud of them both.

"I'm all ears whenever you want to rant for a bit," he calls back as he leaves the room. "Remember, I've been there."

[stayatiny]

Little Dolly Chapter 1 ~ Yandere Seonghwa

(Gif made by me)

Pairing(s) – Killer/Yandere Seonghwa x Virgin! Reader

Series warnings – Violence, mentions of murder, swearing, blood, smut and lose of virginity (later on), yandere behaviors, Stockholm syndrome. (seriously this is going to be darker than some of my other fics. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.)

Chapter Warning(s) Mentions of murder, guns, someone getting shot, just the overall violence, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N - Hi everyone ^^ Im back at it again. I decided to make a little mini series still deciding on who and what to do the next series on. Enjoy.

Why did I wander home alone? I knew that this wasn’t a good idea. Now I’m here stuck in a cage in the basement of a killer. I’ll never do it again if I get out alive…

“Aw. Aren’t you a cute in that dress I picked out for you? I think I’ll just keep you,” he said, shutting the door of the cage. That was a couple of days ago…I think. The man was dressed nicely in a button up and slacks like a businessman and absolutely gorgeous. If he wasn’t a killer, I would swoon over him so fast. He opened the cage door and placed a sandwich and some water in front of me. Is this how I die? A poisoned BLT…what a way to go out. I looked at the man and then back at the plate of food.

“Why aren’t you eating?” I didn’t say anything. He leaned forward into the cage grabbing the plate. I whined as he pulled back. He took a bite of the sandwich and then put it back.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer,” he growled. I nodded and started to eat and drink the water he left me. His frown soon became a smile. He wasn’t going to kill me yet or he wouldn’t bother with wanting to feed me. Once he placed the plate back down, I snatched the plate up and started to scarf down the sandwich and water. I was so hungry almost starving. He had been giving me water but no food till today.

“Good girl,” he purred still sitting in front of the cage. He even leaned forward again and patted my head like I was a child. I finished eating and drinking the water. He took the plate placing it on a table. He leaned down and gently grabbed my arm.

“Come here. I don’t want you in this cage anymore.” The man leads me down the hall of the basement, away from the dungeon, to a small apartment like area. There was a mini fridge, a microwave, bed, and a bathroom off to the right of some stairs. I figured they led to the upper part of the house. I let out a small sigh being able to stretch my legs from being in a cage.

“You will be staying here from now on,” he said, holding my hands. I looked up at him. What was he talking about?

“What do you mean? I thought you were going to kill me,” I say. His smile is sinister.

“Aw darling. I’m not ever going to kill you…unless you make me.” I swallow hard. I didn’t want to end up like the other men and women that’s he’s killed.

“Why me?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking like an idiot. He frowned slightly then pulled me close to his chest. He was really warm but there again I blame the cold weather and damp basement dungeon for lack of warmth.

“I’ve been watching you for a while thinking that would just be another victim of mine, but you are too pretty, sweet, and so innocent. I have to protect you from the world. So I’ll be keeping you here with me,” he says, patting my head. My heart jumps into my throat. I need to get out of here…

“You don’t even know me,” I say trying to pull away from him. He grabbed my arms pulling me close to him once again.

“I don’t know a lot about you, but I know that I need you to stay here with me.” He sounded like he was almost begging me to stay here. I don’t think I have a choice. I’ll stay here until I can find a way out.

“What is your name,” I asked. I needed to play into this to stay alive. I couldn’t act so scared cause then he’ll know that he’ll have a hold over me. The man smiled.

“I’m Seonghwa, but you can call me Hwa if you want,” he said, smiling. I nodded and looked around the room. I was too afraid to walk away from him.

“I’m sure that you are tired. I want you to get cleaned up and head to sleep,” Hwa said, handing me some clothes. I nodded and did as he was told. Once I was done, he was gone and back upstairs. I laid down on the bed after turning off the lights.

Th next morning, I feel the bed dip down on my side. I open my eyes to see Seonghwa looking down at me. I jumped a little.

“Good morning little one,” he said petting my hair. He smiled. I sat up slowly.

“Come upstairs with me. I want to eat breakfast with you,” he said grabbing my hand. I follow willingly or else. I didn’t want to know what he would do to me.

“How did you sleep last night? I know that isn’t very comfortable but it’s all I have but it’ll do until I trust you enough to stay in a bed with me,” he said then opening the door. I wanted nothing more than to bolt out the front door, and I thought about it until I saw the gun sitting on the dining room table. I would definitely get killed if I ran. I didn’t answer him except for stare at the gun. Hwa grabbed then hugged me tight.

“Don’t worry about that. I won’t hurt you unless you make me use it,” he whispered, right into my neck. I shivered scrunching myself even closer to him, unintentionally. Hwa kissed my head then pulled me to the kitchen island. I looked through the window to see that we are outside the city literally in the middle of nowhere. My heart started to pound. Hwa put up the gun back in a lock box and put it up in the living room. He came back to the kitchen with a smile.

“Here I made some scrambled eggs and bacon for you. I didn’t know what you liked so I guess. Maybe later you can tell me what foods you like,” he said, smiling. His smile would have been comforting if this had been a different situation. I didn’t want to answer him, but the image of the gun flashed back into mind.

“It’s okay. I like bacon and scrambled eggs,” I say quietly but a little louder than a whisper. He frowned slightly.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. Like I said I won’t hurt you unless you deserve it.” I nod then taking the plate from him. I started to eat while he sat next to me with his plate. Hwa also put some fresh fruit on my plate. I scarfed down the food again.

“Slow down sweetie,” he said, then kissing my head. I stared at him. He wiped my face from the little bit of egg that was on my lips. I went back to eating while he cleaned up. When I was done, he grabbed my plate and cleaned it. Once he was done, he escorted me back into the basement. He turned to leave when I started to whine.

“Sweetie, I have to get some work done. I’ll be back down at lunch time.”

“Please don’t leave me down here, Hwa,” I beg. He kissed my head. I took the chance. I punched him as hard as I could causing him to fall to the ground holding his face. I didn’t waste the time before running for the door. Once in the kitchen I slammed the basement door shut then putting a chair under the handle.

“Sweetie, let me out,” he said from behind the door. His voice unnaturally calm for someone who is locked into the basement. I ran to the front door even taking a pair of his shoes. I quickly slip them on still hearing Hwa banging on the door and slamming against it. I jerked the door open and ran out trying to get to the road. Hoping I meet someone who could help me. I reach the gate at the end of his driveway only for me to realize that I have up to get to the other side. I started to climb up when I feel a searing pain in the back of my thigh. I scream only for me to see Hwa standing a yard or two behind me with his gun. Fuck me…

“Baby, come back. I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, sing song like. I jumped over the fence and ran. The adrenaline keeping me going and from feeling the pain in my leg. I cover the wound with a scrap of my dress to keep from Hwa following the blood trail. I hide behind a big oak tree away from the road I just ran down. Somebody help me…

[argylesweedstash]

did you just call me baby

(ao3 link)

The first time it happens, it’s an accident. At least, Dean’s banking on Castiel thinking it’s an accident. And it is, really. Dean fell onto the war room floor covered in black goo with his arms around Cas. Sam and Jack leapt up from the table, moving away from the intricate spellwork that no longer needed their attention.

Cas stirred a little. He’d been out of it when Dean had found him - half-lucid and mostly disbelieving. He’d let Dean pull him up and sling his arm around his shoulders, but hadn’t said much. Only mumbled apologies and words that sounded a lot like, “I hope this is real.”

Jack was first on the floor next to them. “Cas?” he asked, a tentative smile playing on his lips. Cas nodded and within seconds, his arms were full of his son.

Dean watched them, a smile playing on his lips. When they broke apart, Sam offered Castiel his arm. Cas had looked at it before taking it and being pulled into a hug by the taller man.

Dean removed himself from the floor and helped Jack up. When Sam released Cas, Dean stepped in front of him.

“It’s real,” Dean said, looking into Cas’s eyes.

Cas nodded. “Thank you for saving me, Dean.”

Dean finally closed the distance between them and pulled Cas into a bone crushing hug.

“I missed you, baby,” Dean muttered against Cas. When he realized that he’d said baby instead of buddy, he could feel heat rising to his cheeks. He removed himself from Cas and grinned sheepishly at the floor. There was a weird fluttering feeling in his chest. He wrote it off as the adrenaline that was still pumping through his veins.

Cas, for what it was worth, didn’t seem to notice the word. “I missed you, too, Dean.”

-

That was two weeks ago. Since then, Dean has been avoiding talking about it. Not just his slip, though, the things Cas had said to him before The Empty came and took him. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t feel the same way - he just didn’t know if he did or not. He likes Cas and he’s his best friend. He knows he likes spending time with him. Sometimes he’s overwhelmed by how fond of his friend he is, but he doesn’t read too far into that.

Plus, things hadn’t changed between them. They still watched movies together in the Dean Cave a couple nights a week. Castiel would always come and join Dean in the garage when he was working on any of the cars they kept. Dean would greet him with a, “Good morning, Sunshine,” every morning from his place at the table. The only thing that had changed was that they didn’t have the end of the world looming over their heads. Honestly, this is the happiest he’s been in a long time. Getting Cas back meant that they’d tied up their loose ends and now they could relax. Of course Dean had never felt this happy, they’d never so resolutely saved the world like they did this time around.

Dean is sitting at the table, now, staring at the laptop screen in front of him. There were still monsters, there might still be a case somewhere. In the back of his head Dean knows he doesn’t really want to find a case. He’s been enjoying his time with Cas and Sam. He likes that the most pressing thing he has to worry about is whether or not the fridge is stocked. He knows Sam has been getting stir crazy, though. Maybe he’ll find a case and send Sam off, encourage him to get Eileen in on it.

The sound of footsteps draws Dean’s attention away from the laptop. Castiel pads into the room. He’s wearing one of Dean’s hand-me-down shirts, even though he hasvclothing of his own. Part of pulling Cas out of The Empty meant leaving his grace behind. Jack had been pretty clear - Cas’s grace was the reason Jack was unable to just pull him out. So, here Cas is, as human as Dean, wearing Dean’s shirt. A smile threatens to break on Dean’s face.

“What’re you up to?” Dean asks.

Cas turns to face him. Dean notices toothpaste stuck to the corner of Cas’s mouth, he must have just finished brushing his teeth.

“It’s almost lunch time,” Cas says. “I was going to make myself something. Are you hungry? I can make enough for two.”

Dean shakes his head. “Just ate,” he says. “You, uh -” He gestures vaguely at Cas’s mouth.

“I what?” Cas asks, tilting his head a little.

“Baby,” Dean starts as he gets up from his chair to walk over to Castiel. “You have some toothpaste. Right there.”

Cas stares at Dean, wide eyed. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes and grabs a napkin from the table. He wipes at Castiel’s mouth before he crumples the napkin and walks it over to the trash. Cas watches his movements.

“What?” Dean asks when he notices Cas staring at him. It’s not that he minds, Cas just looks a little lost.

Cas just shakes his head and puts a smile on his face. “Nothing. Thank you, Dean. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s part of being human, man. No worries,” Dean says, depositing himself back in his chair. “You gonna eat in here?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says, finally moving from where he was stopped.

Dean nods in his direction before he pats the chair next to him, smiling up at his friend. He returns to his research as Cas busies himself in the kitchen.

-

Two days later, Sam is gone to go after a nest of vamps and Eileen’s place just happens to be on the way there. Dean isn’t quite sure why Sam hasn’t just asked her to move in. He’s pretty sure Sam had refrained before because Dean had been a wreck with Cas gone. It was probably better for Dean and Eileen’s relationship that she hadn’t seen him like that. But now, there was no reason for her not to be here. She was family, after all.

Dean knocks on Cas’s door, ending his stream of thoughts. Dean was kind of bored and he hadn’t taken Cas anywhere but the supermarket since they’d brought him back. And, come to think of it, Dean couldn’t remember the last time just he and Cas had gone out for drinks.

Cas answers the door already dressed. “Dean. I was actually coming to look for you.”

“Well, I found ya first,” Dean says, putting an easy smile on his face. “Was gonna see if you wanted to come grab a drink with me. Looks like you’re going somewhere, though.” He didn’t want to press, but where on earth could Cas be going? It wasn’t like he really knew anyone around here outside of Sam and Dean. And if someone they knew was in town, why hadn’t Dean heard of it?

The ends of Cas’s lips turn up slightly. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Dean lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and beams at Castiel. “It’s a date, then. Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you at Baby.”

Cas nods at Dean’s retreating figure and mumbles, “It’s a date,” before shutting his door to walk to the car.

Dean meets him there a few minutes later. “Had to grab my keys,” he says, holding them up for Cas to see.

The drive to the bar passes in comfortable silence, Cas staring out the window at the passing buildings. Dean drums his fingers on his steering wheel. He glances to Cas a few times; he almost can’t believe Cas is really back. He’d been gone for two months. Dean had spent most of that time frantically reading through every lore book and the rest drinking until he couldn’t remember the pain. It had been Jack that finally suggested opening the rift and leaving Cas’s grace behind. Dean had been ready to go almost immediately.

Now that Castiel was back, Dean felt better than he had in years. A warm feeling had settled over him after they fell through the rift and it stayed around. Whenever he was with Cas he could only describe the we he felt as “content.” Like now, for example, he could drive all night like this and be pleased with the way he spent his evening.

They pull in and Dean holds the door to the bar open so Cas can walk through. “Grab us a table and I’ll get drinks,” he says, clapping his hand over his shoulder and walking past him to the bar.

He gets the bartender’s attention pretty quickly. “Hey, Lynn. Slow night?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes at him and pushes a stray strand of blonde hair out of her face. “It’s a Wednesday, what do you expect?” She gives a little chuckle and leans against the bar. “Where’s your brother?”

“Sammy’s with his girlfriend. Won’t be back for a few days,” Dean says easily. “Left me alone with Cas over there.”

Lynn looks past him at Castiel, who is seated at a booth in the corner. He’s looking around the mostly empty bar, seemingly taking in the neon signs advertising different kinds of alcohol. He’s wearing one of Dean’s flannels, Dean realizes belatedly.

“He’s cute,” Lynn says. She turns her attention back to the man in front of her. “What can I get for you two?”

“Two beers,” he says. And then, as an afterthought, “And two shots of your top shelf whiskey.”

She grins. “Celebrating something?”

“Come to think of it, yeah,” Dean says. “He, uh.” He looks for the words. “Just got back from a work trip. Gone for a couple of months.” That sounds like a good cover.

“I bet he’s happy to be home,” Lynn says, setting the beers in front of Dean before turning to grab a bottle from the shelf behind her. “You seem happy that he’s back.”

It’s Dean’s turn to grin. “I’m freaking thrilled. Dude’s my best friend.”

Lynn slides the now filled shot glasses toward Dean. “Want a tray to carry all that?”

Dean doesn’t get to answer before she’s sliding a tray toward him. “You need a tray,” she says, putting the drinks onto it. “I know you were going to try to carry all this over there without one.”

Dean thanks her and slides the tray onto his left arm, steadying it with his right hand. He turns toward the booth Cas is in and flashes him a smile while he lifts the tray slightly, indicating the beverages.

“That my shirt?” he says when he gets to the table. He sets a beer and a shot down in front of Cas.

Cas looks down at the flannel and then back at Dean in a way Dean can only describe as bashful. “Yes. It must have gotten mixed in with my laundry. I can return it, if you want.”

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.” Dean picks his shot up and motions for Cas to do the same. “We’re celebrating, Cas.”

Cas picks up his shot and looks at Dean curiously. “What are we celebrating?”

“You’re back!”

Cas smiles warmly. “I am,” he nods. “Thanks to you.”

“Well, Sam and Jack helped,” Dean says, grinning.

“To humanity,” Cas says, raising the shot.

“To humanity,” Dean echos before taking the shot.

Cas makes a face after he downs his and raises his beer to his lips to chase the taste away.

“You’ve not had a drink since you got back,” Dean remarks, watching Cas take a few long drinks from the bottle.

“You haven’t either,” he replies.

Dean contemplates the statement. “Really?” He takes a sip of his beer. “I guess I’ve just been busy.”

They both know that isn’t really true. Dean’s only been engaging in leisurely activities, he’s just not been drinking during them. He wonders for a moment why that might be. It’s probably because he doesn’t have any pain he needs to ignore, he thinks.

“Your tolerance is going to be shit.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m a cheap date.”

Dean looks at him for a moment before laughing. Cas gives him a genuine smile before returning to his beer.

Several beers later, Dean cuts himself off. Someone has to drive home and Cas is more than a little giggly on the bench across from him. He takes a sip of his third beer and gives Dean a measured look.

“What?” Dean asks, putting a soft smile on his face. “See something you like?”

“Yes,” Cas says.

Dean grins back at him. There’s a tug somewhere in his chest, but he ignores it. “Anything on your mind?”

Cas just looks at Dean, clearly deep in thought. “Not really, no.”

Dean laughs and shakes his head. “Want another?”

Cas’s beer is still half full. “Another what?”

“Another drink. Or another shot.”

“Another shot might be nice, actually.”

Dean smiles at him. “That’s my boy. I’ll be right back.”

He returns to the bar and waits for Lynn to walk over to him.

“Two more?” she asks.

“Just another shot,” Dean says. “I’m driving but huggy bear over there can have whatever he wants.”

Lynn shakes her head and pours another. “You two been together long? I haven’t seen him in here.”

Dean blinks back at her and then looks down at the shot. “Actually we, uh, we haven’t talked about… that. Being together.”

She frowns at Dean and he takes a breath. He hadn’t been avoiding it, really. He and Cas had just fallen back into their comfortable rhythm.

“He doesn’t know how you feel, does he?” Lynn asks. She looks a little sad now.

“I guess he doesn’t,” Dean says thoughtfully.

“You should tell him.”

Dean looks up at her.

“Not tonight, though. He should probably be sober.”

Dean nods and grabs the shot. “Thanks, Lynn.”

He sets the shot down across from Cas when he gets back to the table. “For you.”

Cas downs the shot as Dean settles back down across from him. “What were you two talking about?”

Dean stares at Cas. He knows he shouldn’t lie but if he says anything Cas may actually want to talk about his feelings and Dean isn’t ready for that. He doesn’t really have words and he’s not even sure he’s fully processed Cas’s confession yet. And, Lynn was probably right. Cas should be sober for that particular conversation.

“Sam,” Dean lies easily. “This is where we come for drinks. Neither of us have been by in a while.”

Cas accepts the lie and sips from his beer before starting a conversation about Jack and the prospect of weekly family dinners.

By the time Cas had finished his beer the shot he’d taken seems to hit him. “Dean.”

“Cas.”

“I’d like another shot.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “You can get it.”

Cas frowns at Dean before swinging his legs to the end of the booth to pull himself out. He pushes himself up on the table and wobbles a little before Dean is up and at his side, steadying him.

“When you don’t stand it hits you all at once,” Dean explains. He’s gripping Cas’s bicep and shoulder.

“I know how drinking works, Dean. I spend all my time with you.”

Dean chuckled low in his throat. “How about we get you home?”

“Can I drink there?”

Dean turns Cas to face him fully. “Hell yeah, you can.”

“You’ll be drinking, too?”

“Well, yeah. I won’t have to drive us anywhere. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Dean walks Cas to the Impala and deposits him in the passenger’s seat. “I’ll be right back, baby. I have to pay the tab.”

Cas stares at Dean for a moment before opening and promptly closing his mouth.

“I’ll leave the door open in case you hurl. And I’ll get a bag from Lynn.”

Dean returns to see Cas has closed the door and is currently slumped against it, sleeping. He rolls his eyes and drives him home, careful to avoid the bumps on the road. When they get home, he shakes Cas awake.

“‘Morning, Sunshine.”

“It’s not morning, Dean,” Cas replies groggily.

“Nope,” Dean says, leaning over to pull Cas out of the car. “Let’s get you to your room.”

They make their way through the bunker slowly. Dean sits Cas down and gets him out of his shoes and, after a brief moment of hesitation, his jeans. Once he’s gotten Cas under the blankets, he gets a glass of water from the kitchen and a few tylenol from the bottle he has stashed in his room.

“Alright,” he says, setting everything down on Cas’s night stand. “Take the tylenol when you wake up. You’re probably going to be hungover. And drink some water, okay?”

“Yes, Dean,” says the Cas sized lump under the covers.

“Let me know if you need anything else, okay? I’m right down the hall.”

Dean turns to leave but Cas makes a noise. Dean turns back around.

“Thank you for taking me out tonight, Dean. I had fun.”

Dean smiles. “I had fun, too. Get some sleep, baby.”

He flicks out Cas’s lights and reminds himself to stop calling Cas buddy. The dude loves him and Dean’s probably making it hurt or something. Plus, he’d accidentally called him baby when he’d first gotten back from The Empty. Dean’s probably sending him mixed signals. He shuts the door behind him and walks to his room; he knows he should probably figure out what to say to Cas. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that meant poking at that warm, fluttery feeling that seemed to be permanently in his chest.

-

Sam returns from the hunt a week later. He assures Dean it was an easy hunt and that he and Eileen hadn’t needed any help. He also admits to spending a few days with Eileen after they’d taken out the nest.

“How is she, anyway?” Dean asks, handing a beer to Sam and setting one on the end table next to Cas. They’d been watching old western’s in the Dean Cave when Sam got home. Cas had wanted to spend the day watching movies and Dean had agreed on the condition that he got to pick the movie.

“She’s good. She misses you two,” Sam answers.

“Tell her to get her ass out here,” Dean says. “She’s family at this point, man. She should be here, anyway. It would make hunts easier.”

Sam shook his head, smiling. “That’s the first hunt I’ve been on since we beat Chuck. You still haven’t been out.”

“Hey, I’m keeping Cas company. He’s still newly human,” Dean argues.

“You could go hunt if you want, Dean. I’m capable of taking care of myself. I don’t mind,” Cas says from the couch. Dean looks over at him and shakes his head.

“Nah, you’ve been back less than a month. We gotta make sure you have your sea legs before I go anywhere, baby.”

The words left his mouth effortlessly. Sam and Cas just stared at him for a second before Sam coughed.

“It’s great seeing you guys but I’m going to go shower and pass out for a few hours,” he says before making a quick exit toward his room.

“Fine, Sammy. We didn’t want to hang out with you, anyway,” Dean shoots back before collapsing onto his side of the couch.

He hits play on the movie and settles in. He has his own bottle of beer pressed to his lips when Cas speaks.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” he replies, lowering the bottle from his lips.

Cas is quiet for a moment. “Why do you keep calling me ‘baby’?” he asks carefully.

Dean stares back at him. “I only called you that once,” he says, on guard now. Had it slipped out again? He didn’t think it had but now he’s not so confident. He sets his beer bottle down.

“No, you’ve done it five times.” So, it had slipped out again. More than once. “You did just now before Sam left.”

Dean is silent, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t even realized it had come out. “I’m sorry,” he finally decides, lowering his gaze from Cas’s stare for a brief moment.

“I don’t mind it,” Cas says quietly. He’s looking somewhere to the left of Dean, his eyes occasionally flickering to Dean’s face. “I thought you were doing it on purpose, is all.”

Dean can’t seem to form a fully coherent thought. He knows he needs to say something - mention Cas’s confession, maybe. But he doesn’t have the words for that yet. Instead he says, “Do you want me to stop?”

“I want you to do it on purpose,” Cas says, looking down. Dean can see the beginnings of pink on the top of his ears. He’s overwhelmed with an ache somewhere in his chest.

Dean doesn’t know why, but he slides in close to Cas. He reaches his hand out and lifts his chin so their eyes meet. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, softly. The fluttering in his chest is more insistent now.

He hears Cas’s breath hitch. Cas closes and opens his eyes before saying. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course,” Dean says, his hand still resting on Cas’s chin.

“Will you kiss me?”

Before Dean registers what he’s doing, he nods and ducks his head in. The kiss is chaste and quick but Cas leans in and responds gently. When they break, there’s a soft smile on Cas’s face.

“Cas,” Dean says, moving his hand to Cas’s cheek. “I, uh. I need to talk to you about. About what you said. Before you… Ya know.”

“When I told you I loved you?” Cas supplies, his eyes half-lidded.

“Yeah,” Dean says, chuckling lightly. “I. I think I do, too. I just haven’t -”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean. You know that.”

Dean brings his mouth gently back to Cas’s and kisses him again. This time just a little longer, his other hand finding Cas’s waist.

“It was just so easy when you got back,” Dean says when he pulls away. He tries to find any string of words that expresses how he feels. “I didn’t think I needed to say anything but…”

Cas stares at Dean, encouraging him to keep going. Dean can feel his face heating up.

“Lynn asked how long we’d been together,” he says, lamely. “The bartender,” he adds.

“I didn’t get to meet her but I remember her name.”

Dean smiles at him and takes a breath before speaking. “And I told her we hadn’t talked about it. And she looked really sad. I realized I do need to say something.”

They’re silent for a moment and then Dean says. “Holy shit. That was a date.”

Cas looks confused. “You told me it was a date.”

“I did?”

“Yes. When I said yes to going with you, you said ‘it’s a date.’” Cas says.

Dean shakes his head. “It’s… It’s an expression, Cas,” he says. Then, “But, uh, that was a date. I think.”

“Dean. Did you want it to be a date?” Cas asks. His voice is lined with both patience and amusement.

Dean pauses for a minute before saying, “Yeah. That was our first date.” He leans in and presses another kiss to Cas’s mouth.

Cas kisses back and then pulls away a little. “Would you like to go on a second date?”

Dean makes a show of thinking. He hums lightly.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas. I do,” he places a kiss on the side of Cas’s mouth before he drops his hand. “I, uh, I don’t really know what to say but… You can have me, if you want. You’re just going to have to work with me. I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Cas says.

Dean places a kiss on Cas’s cheek before he turns back to the TV and starts the movie. Cas reaches across to grab his hand, intertwining their fingers in the space between them.

“Hey, baby?”

Cas’s head pops up in response to the pet name, there’s a faint smile on his lips. “Yes, Dean?”

“I love you.”

Cas beams at him before replying, “I love you, too.”

Dean turns his head back toward the TV but spends a better part of the rest of the movie sneaking glances at Cas. He indulges the warm feeling in his chest, even if he doesn’t quite have the words for everything yet.

[dabisqueen]

The Captured Pt.3

Shigaraki x Reader x Dabi

⇢ rating: 18+

⇢ word count: roughly 4K

⇢ plot: Being held hostage at the LOV HQ, you are Shigarakis "spoils", but can't help falling for Dabi. This makes for a troublesome situation.

⇢ warnings: 18+, noncon, rape, mean Shiggy, soft Dabi, blood, cum, creampie, smut, alcohol, force, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), orgasm, threatening of quirk use

⇢ NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!

personal note: where do i start. it got longer than anticipated so there will also be a part 4! geez... ok, this one i still had a hard time writing the plot and its twist. but i think it will all come together nicely in the end.

Pt.2 / Pt.4

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

Time passed as I got accustomed to my new situation. I knew by now I was never going to have my old life back, never going to get free. To the outside, I was missing, probably dead and I felt like I was not the girl I used to be - and would probably never be. I had unknowingly become part of the League, but I actually liked it. Dabi's room had become mine, even Shigaraki didn't mind about it, for Dabi slept most of the time on the couch in the lounge. The tight work schedule of the League made it impossible to find time for each other and Shigaraki, being completely engulfed in his leadership goals, hadn't come up to me either.

One evening most members were out and I was left alone with Toga supervising me. We were at the bar, I had been drinking a couple of gin tonics as we were stuck in conversation. Toga suddenly had her elbows on the table and leaned in so close I could feel her breath on my face. She chirped with her happiest voice “Forgot to tell you: got a special date today. Can you help me get pretty, please?” she grinned at me with an eager mewl, eyes almost squinting.

I sighed, “Ok, but no sticking knives in me, got that?” She crossed her heart and grinned “Promise!”

Squealing with joy she grabbed my hand and guided me to her room. Once there, she retrieved a bag from the bathroom, stuffed with all sorts of makeup. Sitting her down in a chair, I knelt in front of her and grabbed an eyeliner, unscrewing the top. She shivered in excitement, all the while licking her lips, eyeing me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Turning towards her, I started applying the makeup on her, faces only inches away from each other. I noticed her excited hot breath fanning my face, smelling like bubblegum.

"So, uhm, who's your date?“ I questioned, hovering in front of her.

Before I knew it she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards her, her soft warm lips locking with mine. I was frozen in surprise as she pulled back and whispered “You…” and then I felt a sting in my fingertip. I jolted away from her, looking down at my finger. Blood started oozing out of a hole in the tip of my finger, slowly running down my finger.

“Fuck, Toga!” I yelled at her, while she giggled and wiggled a large syringe needle in her hand, “No knife, see?”

“Brat!” I spat out, staring at her, stunned. There was an awkward moment of silence between us as the blood started dripping on the floor.

“Please, just one lick?” She begged, eyes gleaming with pure desire, a smile like a thousand volts in her face as she kept licking her lips.

“Geez Toga...” I mumbled as I suddenly felt the alcohol kick in while the adrenaline wore off. Without any time to react, she grabbed my finger and pulled it towards her mouth. Her tongue came out and, sliding it up, she collected all the blood on it. I gasped as she closed her plush warm lips around my finger, cheeks hollowing as she started sucking on it. Her eyes narrowed, as she kept relentlessly pulling the blood out of my finger. With a plop, she released it, my red juice pooling rapidly on the tip from the suction and she opened her mouth. Dark red, thick fluid covered her tongue, puddling around it. I felt nausea creeping up inside me as she closed her eyes, swirling it around in her mouth before visibly swallowing it. She opened her mouth again, now empty, and grinned sharp and wide.

“You're sick,” I groaned as I staggered off to the door on wobbly legs.

Toga kept calling after me "Awhh… that wasn't that bad! Please stay!"

But I ignored her and continued on to Dabi's room. Nausea kept stirring my insides as I stumbled into it, ripping open the bathroom door and convulsing over the toilet, vomiting into it. As nausea finally subsided, I leaned back, feeling heavy with foreboding rumbling deep inside my core as I hung my head and cried.

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

Shigaraki had been out with the other members to meet another villain group to potentially join forces. The evening had stretched itself out, I had been left alone for the first time. I sat in the lounge and played with some cards, getting myself a drink once in a while.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar purple warp gates opening and each member, one by one, appeared through it. At least I thought so. As Shigaraki passed through the gate, covered in his hands, I could feel something was off. He was fuming with anger, his whole body shaking, while everyone else seemed in a gloomy mood, hurrying to shuffle out of his way. He stomped to the bar, hissing and cursing, as Kurogiri almost flew behind the counter to pour him a whiskey. He grabbed it, lifted "Father" for a moment and chugged it in one go. Still ranting to himself his glaring red eyes darted across the room as if he was looking for something. Finally, his crazed gaze fell upon me, his eyes narrowing.

"You..." he glared at me across the room.

Everyone went silent, all eyes on me.

Shigaraki slowly approached me, his hand stretched out as he rasped an undeniable order "My room, now."

My eyes widened with fear, I stumbled to my feet, tripping backward against the chairs,

"N- no, please…" I stuttered out, shaking my head frantically.

"I said my room," his voice was even more chilling than before. As I still didn't respond, he darted towards me. With no time to react, he grabbed my wrist and jerked me with him towards the door. I stumbled after him, protesting, tears starting to well in my eyes as I looked over my shoulders.

Everyone stood unmoved, no one had the guts to speak up. Toga even wiggled her fingers after me with a sheepish grin on her face. And then my eyes found Dabi’s. His face placid, he watched me being pulled out of the room. His behavior felt treacherous, I was hurt, lost as I pleaded "Dabi please help!" but all he did was avert his eyes and then he disappeared out of sight as Shigaraki coached me through the door into the hallway.

Being dragged after him, I stumbled a few times trying to keep up with his pace. Once at his room, he kicked his door open and yanked me inside, having me lose my footing and fall to the floor on all fourths. He slammed the door shut behind me and rasped "Undress."

“N- No, I won't!” I shook, scrambling to my feet.

"You're testing my patience, little Spoils," he hissed, approaching me with five fingers pointing at me.

I felt the built-up anger inside me bubble up and couldn't contain myself anymore. If he were to dust me, then be it! “Fine, jerk!” I yelled at him, aware of the danger I was getting myself into by saying that. Hands shaking I fumbled on my button and zipper, slowly pulling down my pants. Shigaraki ignored my harsh tone though and turned towards a dresser on the side. Not leaving me out of his sight he one by one unhinged the hands off of him and placed them neatly into a drawer.

As I stood only in my underwear in the middle of the room, he strode towards me and grabbed my wrist. Ignoring my loud protests he pulled me towards the bed and pushed me belly down onto it. I cringed when he pried open my legs, kneeling between them. The rustling of his pants being undone was accompanied by my pleas not to hurt me again. But he kept ignoring me, prodding one finger inside, slowly gliding in and out.

"So hot for me…" he snarled, red eyes glowing with excitement, as he licked his dry lips.

"Shigaraki, don't make me fucking bleed again!" I cried out, lifting my arms, trying to prop myself up. But his right hand grabbed the back of my head and pressed it down into the sheets.

"Shut up!" His voice full of irritation.

My complaints were muffled by the sheets as he prodded himself at my entrance, pushing my panties aside. His left hand pressed against my back, thumb curled in, pinning my body against the mattress as he sheathed himself inside me with one strong thrust. I wailed into the sheets at his forceful intrusion.

The stretch from his girth was still unbearable. I groaned as he started pumping himself into me, letting out angry huffs as he kept muttering fucking yakuza… fuckin' brat… should have dusted him… I whimpered into the sheets as he continued pounding into me. By the time he came, I felt that dull pain in my core again and anger almost boiled over inside me. As he caught his breath and pulled out, reaching for his pants, I jerked around and yelled at him "Fuck, Shigaraki, you need to stop doing that!” I almost cried, “Can't keep on hurting me like that, if you call yourself the 'boss' around here!" He growled at my outburst but before he could react I pushed him aside, his eyes glinting with surprise, grabbed my clothes and stumbled out of the room.

Ignoring the dull pain in my core and the hot fluids dripping down my legs, I started staggering down the hallway. As I got closer to the stairs, I saw a familiar figure standing at the end of the hallway, resting against the wall. Dabi looked at me with an unmoving expression in his cerulean eyes. I didn't even stop, just pushed past him as I continued my way to the stairs. He followed me and held out his hand, rumbling lowly, a bit abashed “Here, lemme help" as I swayed a bit. But I swapped it away in anger and growled at him "Don't you dare touch me, " as I continued my way up to his room, leaving him standing deserted in the hallway.

I went straight to the bathroom, got undressed and took a shower, washing all the smut off me. I sank to the floor as an uncontrolled flow of tears started mixing with the hot water running down my face.

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

Life went on as usual in the headquarters. The League was out a lot, recruiting more, doing some successful quests, that the news later on talked about, as we all watched TV at the lounge bar. Their increased activity had me spare more intimate time with Shigaraki and Dabi. It was a much-needed break, giving me the possibility to cope with my new life, trying to figure out how I could fit into it. As for Dabi, I distanced myself from him, avoiding him whenever possible. I needed time, thinking about his obscurr attitude towards me in the past. So whenever he entered the lounge, I usually sat down at Shigaraki’s side or scooted off to the furthest corner. When we met in the hallway, I avoided eye contact, looking straight ahead and just passed by.

Dabi became increasingly on edge by my behavior. He didn't know how to cope with my anger. His irritation showed in his increased aggressiveness, repeatedly snapping at the other members. Everyone started being on edge with him, even more than they used to do. Toga kept complaining to me about his erratic behavior and repeated outbursts. Not as if that was anything unusual, but it had become more frequent. Even though I tried avoiding him, he somehow managed to be a constant presence in my periphery. He hung around to just watch me, reclining back in his chair looking half-asleep and completely disinterested, but I could see how he was constantly shooting me glances. During meetings in the lounge, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest and kept watching me with those unmoving ice blue eyes.

Despite those troubling circumstances, I started to get accustomed to the rest of the members. I grew really fond of Spinner and Twice, even Kurogiri became sort of a father figure for me with his constant concern over us. Toga was still an annoying crazy little brat who never missed a chance to draw blood from me, but I started thinking of her as the younger sister I never had. Whenever she kept asking for cuddles I couldn't help but give in to her, wrapping my arms around her, while she gave me an almost bruising hug back, snuggling into me and calling me her “Big Sis.”

Shigaraki - he turned out to be a handful. After I had lost my temper with him that one night, he seemed a bit apprehensive around me. He started fiddling with his fingers and phone when I was close, shooting me nervous glances. He kept looking at me with his burning red eyes, intrigued, curious as to what I was doing. Whenever there was a meeting or we just sat at the bbar he demanded me to be next to him. He snickered when he saw me snapping at Dabi. Whenever I huddled over to the other members, conversing and laughing with them, he kept eyeing me with interest.

Dabi on the other hand grew more agitated the closer Shigaraki kept me by his side, disagreeing during meetings, ignoring certain commands, just being more of his usual asshole-self towards him. And that didn't go unnoticed by Shigaraki, as he kept getting more aggrivated by his behavior.

It was one of those days they had been out again for recruitment and after they returned through the portals back into the lounge, Shigaraki turned towards me.

“Sit with me,” he rasped dryly as usual and slumped down at the bar. I reluctantly joined him, noticing that he seemed pretty agitated.

On the other side of the bar, Dabis had slouched down on a stool, whiskey in his hand, half-lidded eyes staking nonchalantly at me. Toga pranced over, leaning into me, purring and letting me stroke her hair. Even though no one said anything, there was an unspoken tension in the air. I looked at Shigaraki from the side, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What are you staring at,” he scowled irritably.

“Just seeing what mood you're in.” I shrugged.

He didn't react, as his eyes went up to Kurogishi to order us a drink. As the evening continued, we drank in silence but I couldn't shrug off the feeling that something was off between him and Dabi. They had not spoken a word since they came back. I was a bit tipsy, as Kurogiri kept placing drinks in front of me on behalf of Shigaraki. The tension-filled air, the weird vibes between the members made me feel uncomfortable and a heavy weight started suffocating me. Unexpectedly, all the stress and frustration, all the hurt and heartache of those last weeks, months of living in this place, came crashing down on me. It had been too much, too much of everything. Tears started glistening in my eyes as I felt every nerve in my body vibrate with feverish exhilaration, like strings singing with tension, ready to snap any moment. And that moment came sooner than I expected.

As Mr. Compress, a new member, approached Shigaraki, calling him “boss”, that certain something snapped inside me. The way Shigaraki had been handling me in his room was beyond “boss”-behavior and had left a sour taste in my mouth. I was barely able to suppress a giggle pressing itself up my throat. Shigaraki shot me an annoyed glance and Dabi cocked his head, honest concern starting to mix in with his usual bored expression. As they kept continuing the conversation, I couldn't control myself anymore and kept giggling every time I heard that specific word, a laughing fit slowly but surely starting to build up inside of me. Shigaraki grew increasingly annoyed by my behavior, his body started to tense, his idle hand curved into a fist and his leg nervously bouncing up and down. Once in a while his hand shot up so scratch his neck, until I could see small red patches. At one point I totally lost it, snorting, choking on my drink, not being able to suppress the frantic giggles creeping up, tears threatening to roll down my cheeks.

There was a wet splattering sound and I looked up to see Shigaraki, who clutched the remnants of his glass with all five of his fingers. What was left of it kept disappearing, turning into dust and the whiskey inside had splashed all over the counter. All heads jerked up as the scene unraveled before them.

He was shaking, face hidden behind his white messy hair as his lips parted and he breathed out in a low scratch, warning tone “Do you have a problem?"

I swallowed down my giggles, still nervous. I realized I had crossed a line and there was no way out for me.

His red crimson eyes shot up at me, his voice now trembling with rage, "I asked, if you have a problem!”

I fumbled with my fingers, which started to get sweaty and sticky. "I- I’m sorry… boss” and my body started shaking again with laughter, too exhausted from the last weeks straining experiences to care.

Shigaraki slowly slid off his stool and I watched him approach in horror, still sobbing with frantic uncontrollable giggles. So fast I couldn't even react, his hand shot up and wrapped around my throat, pinkie hovering dangerously close to my skin. He leaned forward into my face, red eyes burning into mine. I could smell his breath, induced with alcohol as he rasped out "I think I need to fuck those giggles out of you and show you who the boss is. Don't you think, little Spoils?" And with that he pulled me off the stool, my hands cutching his wrist, that was still grabbing my throat. I kept apologizing, pleading with him to let me go as suddenly a low growl emenated through the room "Stop touching her."

Shigaraki stopped dead in his tracks, still clutching my throat. Silence spread through the room like before an upcoming storm, and it had the hair at the back of my neck stand on end. Kurogiri nonchalantly turned off the TV and moved closer, ready to step in if necessary.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Dabi growled again more viciously from where he slid off the stool at the bar, “She's not going anywhere.”

Shigaraki turned around slowly, staring at Dabi. "Oh, is that so?” I was stunned by Dabi's behavior as I tried to loosen Shigaraki's grip on my throat and was finally released. I gasped for air, trying to catch my breath, stumbling a few feet away.

“Are you gonna fight me?” Shigaraki rasped dryly, turning his attention towards Dabi, who hissed back, teeth exposed in a vicious smile. “I might, jackass."

"Over some spoils?" Shigaraki raised an eyebrow.

Dabi looked at him and I could see all the rage and frustration that built up over me, bubbling just beneath the surface for the last weeks, erupting at that moment. He let out a low rumbling sound, eyes burning with anger now, "She's no spoils, she’s my girl."

Shigaraki seemed to weigh up something, tilting his head. My heart was pounding out of my chest now, I had never seen Shigaraki this eerily calm before. His eyes moved between Dabi and me, his voice raspy and cold when he finally spoke, sending shivers up my spine. "Oh- I understand... You've been fucking her," he snarled and then it all happened very fast. A blur of movement, Shigaraki jumped towards Dabi with one swift move, hand stretched out, ready to strike. Dabi simultaniously shot his arm up, blue flames ready to shoot out of his palm, the smell of kindling suddenly suffocatingly strong. They were on a collision course and someone was about to die. Kurogiri was ready to step in but before he could I heard myself cry out “Stop!" Both villains froze, standing right across from each other, red orbs gleaming viciously at cold cerulean eyes - and that's when I realized what I had to do.

I moved before I thought, wound myself in between those outstretched arms, careful not to touch either of them. I winced at the heat of Dabi’s flames only inches away from me, Shigaraki's hand almost touching my face. Every muscle tense, I stared into Shigaraki's gleaming eyes and watched his hand tremble. The entire room held their breath as the other members watched the scene in front of them unravel.

"Shigaraki," my voice shaking, “please stop," His eyes narrowed and glared at me between tufts of pale hair.

"Why should I, Spoils?" he sneered coldly.

“Because there is no need to fight. I will go with you.” I said resolutely.

I heard Dabi hissing a growl behind me, blue flames pulsating and gushing with each of his heavy breaths.

Shigaraki stood unmoving, his eyes taking me in, visibly contemplating. Then his lips curled up and he let out a scratchy snicker, looking up at Dabi. "Ok, but I am only doing this to teach that sorry ass of a patchface over there a lesson - for having fucked you," he grinned wide.

"No," Dabi growled at me, desperation weaved into his voice. His eyes shot at his boss behind me and back to me. I turned around towards blue flickering lights licking at me, determination in my voice, leaving no place for arguments “Dabi, I am going with him."

His eyes froze at those words. For a split second, I could see his facade sway, turmoil flickering in his mesmerizing eyes, but he composed himself again, same cold expression on his face again.

"You're faking… " he snarled, staring at me.

Not saying a word, I stepped backward until I was leaning against Shigarakis body, feeling his hot breath against my ear, his chest rise and fall with each tensed breath. Red bloodshed eyes bore into cerulean ones as Shigaraki stared at him from behind my back, arm still outstretched. Dabi gritted his teeth as Shigaraki’s chapped lips stretched into a wide, eerie smile. He placed his free hand around my throat, pinkie raised as he tilted my head to the side and licked slowly along my pulse, never averting his eyes from Dabi. Agonizing seconds passed as he stared at Shigaraki, then at me. I was frozen, pinned in place by the heavy judgment written in his face. But then he backed down, blue flames dying as he lowered his hand, averting his eyes with a scowl. The gesture was small but there was an acknowledgment of defeat.

Shigaraki's lips curled up in a mock grin.

“Let’s go have some fun then,” he rasped lowly into my ear and pulled us towards the hallway.

Dabi watched us leave, a strained expression on his face. As soon as we were gone, he let out a feral scream, kicking chairs and tables out of his way. His hands started smoking, an eerie blue light dancing in his palms as he stared at the other villains with hurt anger, turned on his heel and stormed towards the exit. He crashed his boot against it and it flung open, hinges aching under the brute force. The last thing to see were the ragged edges of his coat as he disappeared into the dark of the night.

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

Pt.4

@scruffymctee @sage-malf0y @undefined--person

[arrowflier]

hi arrow! can i get a fic of ian being jealous on a date (maybe someone flirts with mickey??) and mickey just loves it bc it makes ian all passive aggressive and bossy and saying 'my husband' 283949 times ❤️

Of course you can!  Or at least I tried lol, it got a little random.💖

That Green-Eyed Monster (is my husband)

They never had really gotten in the habit of going on dates, before. Not real dates at least, in public places where you could eat with utensils or sit side-by-side and pretend to watch the entertainment while you were really just watching each other. They had tried, but something always got in the way--the military, jail sentences, arrest warrants, pandemics, family emergencies--they just had shit luck, alright?

So when things got a little less crazy on the aforementioned fronts, they started trying a little bit harder. They had a designated date night, now. Sometimes they planned together, sometimes they took turns surprising each other with heartfelt (or sometimes comical) plans.

This time, it had been Mickey's turn.

“Where are we going?” Ian asked yet again from where he was blindfolded in the passenger seat of Tami’s car.  They’d usually take the ambulance, but Mickey didn’t want to stick out too much today—not in a place where an ambulance could potentially be needed.

“I still ain’t gonna tell you,” Mickey answered, but relented enough to add, “we’re almost there though, you’ll see soon.”

Sure enough, the entrance to the parking lot came up on the right, and Mickey swung in in that ridiculous little car.

As soon as Ian felt the car stop, he was reaching for his blindfold—not one of their good ones, just an old headband they had found on Debbie’s floor—but Mickey grabbed his hand before he could slip it off.

“Hey hey hey,” Mickey chastised.  “What’s the rush there, flash?”

“What, I can’t be a little eager for our date?” Ian pouted, knowing it would get Mickey to give in.  No matter how many times he tried to pretend that he wasn’t soft, Mickey always gave in to the pout.

He was right.  Gentle hands pushed the headband off of Ian’s eyes, which were immediately filled with the sight of Mickey’s own as the other man ran fingers through Ian’s hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

“Alright, come on then,” Mickey ordered, leaving one firm kiss at the corner of Ian’s lips before pulling back and getting out of the car.  “If you’re so eager, you get to pay.”

Ian chuckled as he let himself out and met Mickey around the front of the car.  “Why would I pay?” he asked jokingly.  “It’s your week to woo me, asshole, you get to foot the bill.”

“Foot the bill with your money, sure,” Mickey retorted, and Ian rolled his eyes as he automatically fell into step beside him.

“Our money,” he reminded his husband, getting an arm around his waist.  He was always surprised when Mickey let him do that—he said it felt awkward to walk with the jolly red giant suckered onto his side—but this time Mickey actually leaned into him.

He didn’t even notice where they were, outside a little building in the middle of nowhere.  He let go of Mickey to walk through the door ahead of him, fully intending to continue their playful banter, when he stopped still.

There were a lot of guns in this place.

Paintball guns, that was.

“Mickey,” Ian said slowly as his husband came up behind him, “did you bring me here to shoot me?”

Mickey just smirked as he swanned past toward the check-in desk.

“Maybe, hotshot,” he answered.  “You gonna complain?”

Ian shook his head with a shit-eating grin.  

“Hell no,” he declared.  “You better be ready for me.”

Mickey signed his name on a waiver with a flourish and took the gun handed to him by a worker, tossing it to Ian.

“Am I ever not?”

—

Ian was having a blast, pun intended, as he shot the shit out of everybody else on the range.  Mickey wasn’t faring too badly either; despite being on the opposite team, neither one of them had managed to shoot each other yet.

It didn’t hurt that Mickey looked damn good, either.  He was completely in his element out here, taking guys out left and right with perfect marksmanship and even more perfect form, his shoulders barely moving with the recoil as he shot.  Half the time, Ian missed his chance because he was too busy watching him to fire—the other half, he didn’t even want to if it meant taking Mickey out of the game and losing his eye-candy.

Finally, a break was called, and everyone filed off the course while it was reset for the next round.

Ian grabbed a bottle of water from a long table near the building, guzzling half of it in one go before looking around for his husband.

He found him quickly enough, recognizing his back immediately even in unfamiliar gear with his hair all mussed from the protective helmet they had to wear.

But he did not recognize the man standing next to Mickey, raking his eyes over Mickey’s stocky build.  

The stranger was saying something, Mickey tossing his head back in laughter, and then a hand was on Mickey’s arm and Ian suddenly found himself at Mickey’s back.

“Everything good here, fellas?” Ian asked casually, standing a couple feet away.

“Fine, Gallagher,” Mickey said with a smile.  “Johnny here was just tellin’ me he could give me some pointers before the next round.”

Ian raised his eyebrows, glancing from Mickey’s face to the stranger’s and back.

“Pointers?” he asked, voice going a touch high at the end.  Who the fuck did this guy think he was, offering shooting pointers to Mickey fucking Milkovich?  He had gotten there just in time, it seemed, because there was no way in hell Mickey would let that insult slide.

“Yeah,” Mickey said.  “Says I need to work on my form a little, widen my stance, you know.  Thought I’d give it a shot.”

Wait.  What?

“I was just telling him,” the stranger—Johnny, though how they were on a first name basis already Ian had no idea—chimed in, “that I have a lot of experience with real firearms.”

“And I was sayin’ how much I admire a military man,” Mickey interjected with a smirk, “so I might as well let him show me some moves.”

“Mickey,” Ian hissed lowly, “what are you doing?”

Mickey didn’t answer.

“You ever shot a real gun, Mick?” Johnny asked abruptly, catching on that he was missing something but determined not to lose Mickey’s attention.  

“It’s like nothing else, dude, I swear.  The feel of that smooth metal in your hands,” he continued as he moved closer, lifting a hand to Mickey’s arm again. “The way it moves with you, goes off when you,” he leaned in even closer, and added in a low voice, “pull the trigger.”

Alarm bells were ringing in Ian’s head at this point.

“Nah,” Mickey was answering, “my guy won’t let me play with the real stuff.”

“Sounds like you need a new guy, then,” Johnny murmured, and Ian had had enough.

“He’s taken,” he cut in gruffly, moving to stand by Mickey’s side.  He couldn’t hold Mickey with the gear in the way, but he got a hand on his back, at least, curling fingers into the top of his waistband.

Johnny looked at him askance, and shrugged.  

“I don’t see a ring,” he pointed out, and Ian grit his teeth.  They had taken them off before starting, for safety, and he never regretting following the rules more a day in his life.

“Besides, who are you to speak for him?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, this is Ian,” Mickey introduced quickly.  He was smiling, the asshole, like some guy wasn’t trying to steal him from right under Ian’s own nose.  “He’s my—”

“His husband,” Ian stated firmly, and watched Johnny’s eyes go wide.  “His ex-army, ex-con husband.”

“Hey man, I’m sorry,” Johnny apologized, hands up.  “I didn’t know.”

Ian nodded, ready to let it go despite his urge to send the man packing, when Johnny insisted on talking again.

“You can’t blame me though, right?” he said with a little, nervous laugh.  “I mean, he looks so damn—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, too busy keeling over with his hands on his groin after Ian shot a paintball right at his balls at point-blank range.

—

Two minutes later, Ian and Mickey were racing to the car as employees chased behind them, yelling.  Apparently it was frowned upon to shoot someone on your own team, outside the course itself, during a break.  It didn’t help that Mickey had done the same right after, just for fun.

“Hurry up, you jealous fuck,” Mickey shouted at Ian as he fumbled with the door handle.  “We gotta get outa here before they realize I gave them fake names!”

Ian fell into the car, giddy with adrenaline and laughter.

“The fuck did you do that for?” he giggled as Mickey threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the lot.

“Cause I knew you would do something stupid!” Mickey said, shoving at Ian’s shoulder with one hand when Ian just laughed harder.

Ian gather himself as they drove, and felt his heart-rate start to normalize after a few minutes on the road.  He held Mickey’s hand over the gearshift, finger rubbing over the spot where his ring should be—where it would be again as soon as they had a minute to breathe.  Then, just as he was almost calm—

“Shit, Ian,” Mickey gasped.  “We didn’t return the fucking guns.”

That set them off again, and they had to pull over halfway home until they could stop laughing and hide the paintball guns under the back seat.

Franny and Fred would love them come Christmas.

[mrskittythulhu]

Red Feathers of a chance encounter

part 1  part3  part4

  Wattpad

(18+) Hawks + fem (y/n) 

It had been a few months since your wild encounter with Dabi. All the marks he left on your body have now faded away. His touch, his taste and his dark voice became nothing more than a memory you wish you could move on from. Despite the new rumors that circulated about you when you came home disheveled something did remain the same, your ‘hero’ ex-boyfriend still kept tabs on you.

One benefit from your night with Dabi was that your Ex finally got the hint that the relationship was over. Word quickly got around about how you ‘cheated’ on your boyfriend or some wild spin like that. This gave you the opportunity to tell others how it was over and finally people listed even if they reacted poorly towards you. You would rather be hated for something you did than be hated for the lies he created around you.

For a couple of weeks things were quiet. No messages, no extra heroes ‘patrolling’ your neighborhood and best of all you had not seen your Ex. Life became simple go to work, stop at the corner store on days you needed food, then home. Unfortunately, nothing good can last forever.

At first you thought you were being overly paranoid when you got jumpy overshadows moving in the corner of your eyes. At night you would hear rattling outside your window despite your apartment being high up on the fifth floor. Your uncomfortable feelings became validated when you were walking home from work you noticed your Ex leaning on the wall of a nearby building. He was in his hero uniform acting like he was on patrol, but you knew he was watching you again. This was his typical intimidation tactic. When you locked eyes with him, he winked then started walking away.

Weekend finally arrived and you had a free day to unwind. Tired of feeling cooped up inside your apartment you took your book to the near by park. After a short walk you found yourself peacefully seated under a tree in the center of the park. The distant sound of wildlife and children playing echoed around you.

Twenty minutes into your peaceful reading a shadow loomed over you. Feeling the ominous presence of someone hovering over you, slowly you looked up to be face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

“Fuck”, you cursed quietly to yourself as you met is smug expression. He even had the nerve to show up in his hero uniform. Another one of his classic intimidation tactics. He knew that if you drew attention in anyway, he could claim you were hysterical and as a ‘hero’ he was just there to ‘help’. This forced all public conversations to stay quiet leaving you, once again, defenseless.

“Hi there (Y/N) been a while I missed you so much.” His smile was bright as if he had rehearsed in a mirror for hours before finding you here.   “I know we have had some misunderstandings but I’m willing to forgive you for cheating on me because I’m such a standup guy.”

“First of all,” you slammed your book shut and quickly stood to your feet. “Hard to miss someone when you stalk them.” You felt your body shaking from the adrenaline rush, but you needed to get these pent-up words out.  “Two I don’t miss you and lastly, I didn’t cheat on you I dumped you months ago you narcissistic creep.”

You knew your voice was louder than it needed to be and at this point you didn’t care if other people listed in. After living without this walking garbage in your life you refused to go back to how things were before.  Quickly taking the opportunity to walk away you started walking towards the playground. If he wanted to cause a commotion he could try and do it where families could see how he really was.

A tight gloved grip squeezed around your arm. You instinctively started to pull away from him and shout for help. For a brief moment you locked eyes with a woman sitting on a bench by the playground. Your ex kept telling you to quiet down but that only prompted you to scream louder for help. Fear filled your body at the thought of being stuck any longer with this man. Tears pricked at your eyes as your voice became strained from screaming. Frustration took over as you realized no one around you was coming to help.  

Suddenly a ribbon of red swirled around the both of you. The distraction was enough for him to let go of your body. Losing your footing you stumbled to the ground. While sitting there you looked back at your ex who was busy swatting at what looked like red feathers attacking him. A strange loud flapping noise pulled your attention in the opposite direction. Before you could even process anything that was going on your legs lunged you off the ground and into the arms of another man.

The smell of sandalwood quickly filled your nose. A gentle hand wiped at your tears and slowly lifted your face up towards theirs. Golden eyes with sharp black eyeline looked back down at you. A small smile with light facial hair on his chin. Wild windblown blond hair and large bright crimson red wings behind him.

Very suddenly the realization hit you that you were in the arms of the heart throb number 2 hero HAWKS. Your eyes went wide, mouth agape, and cheeks began to burn from sudden embarrassment. His deep husky chuckle was like music to your ears and in that hypnotizing moment was the only thing you could hear. The arm he held you with squeezed you just a bit tighter to his body causing your breast to press into him.

“What the hell Hawks?” your Ex yelled out with rage.  “What are you even doing here this isn’t your territory?”

“Well, when you become a top hero like me EVERY area is your ‘territory’ and why wouldn’t I respond to the cry of this lovely chickadee in distress.” The sweet expression quickly turned dark as hawks was now glairing at your ex. His hold on you was firm but protective. With how close you were to him; you could hear the rustle of his feathers as if he was preparing to use them.

“This is just a lover’s… spat. No reason for you to involve yourself.” You squeezed into the sides of Hawks hoping he wouldn’t believe the lies from your Ex’s mouth. “So just hand her over and fly on by.” Your Ex started to make a shooing motion with his hand. His smug over confidence was pouring out the more he talked. He began spewing out the same lines he used every time someone tried to involve themselves in your public displays with him.

Soft knuckles trailed down your cheek leading to a gentle thumb stroking along your jaw line. His sweet smile was back as he looked down at you.

“Chickadee are you the lover to this angry gorilla?” His words were so gentle, but you could hear the sarcasm in his voice. Being pressed firmly to his muscular chest you were able to feel the rumble of his quiet laughter. His golden eyes sparkled in the light of the sun as he looked down at your shy expression.

“N-no,” you quickly cleared your throat to speak with more confidence. “I dumped him months ago, but he won’t leave me alone.” This was it. This felt like you last chance to have someone believe you about how awful your ex really is.

You felt one of Hawks wings protectively wrap around you as your Ex started to lose his cool. “Dumped me!” Your ex faked a laugh as he started to pace about with his hand flailing in the air. “You cheated on me with that murderous villain.”

Shock filled your body as you looked up to the winged here with wide eyes. He was glairing hard at your ex with unwavering focus on the man erratic movements. You curled into his side more as your ex began to call you a slew of unsavory names. Near by parents began to cover their children’s ears and move away from your drama. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you took in his harsh words, but Hawks remained as still as stone.

“So, as you can see your just wasting your time so just hand her over to me.”  Your ex had his palm out eagerly waiting for you to be turned over to him.

“I don’t think so.” Hawks’ words were blunt. You felt his arm wrap around your waist tighter the movement hidden from your ex’s view by his wing.

“Then I’ll take her back by force.” Your ex balled his fist and lunged towards the both of you. Red feathers swiftly propelled the both of you into the air. Once high enough out of reach Hawks sent a wave of feathers towards your Ex within seconds he was pinned to the ground. He continued to curse and scream out until a large red feather covered his mouth muffling his rant.

“You can just stay there until police come and explain yourself to them.” His large wings began to flap hard as he started to fly away from the park. “How about we get you some place safe for now, chickadee.” You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. He chuckled at your movements while taking out a phone with his free hand. He had a short conversation with who you assumed was the police on the other end where he explained that a hero went rogue in the park.

After a short flight he gently landed on your balcony. Slowly you unwrapped yourself from Hawks body instantly missing his protective touch. You walked over to the sliding door feeling thankful that because you lived so high up you left the door unlocked. While opening the door you missed the inquisitive look that flashed over Hawks face as he watched you.

“Can I offer you something to drink.” You felt awkward about the whole interaction and very uncertain about what to say. I’m sure you have many things you want to ask me after ... well, that.” You shrugged and averted your eyes before walking into the kitchen. Hawks sent a few feathers around your small apartment while your back was turned. When you reached the sink to fill a class with water you looked over to see him plop onto your sofa.

“Is it true chickadee?” He leaned back with his arms behind his head. You could see the grooves of his abs through his thin tight shirt. He placed his feet up onto your coffee table and for a moment you wondered when he had the chance to take off his shoes. His golden eyes watched you walk back into the room.

“Is what true?” You felt hesitant as you handed him a glass of water. His gaze on you felt intimidating like a lion watching over their pray. His smile was deceptively bright and kind. You sat in a on the sofa next to him with as much space you could make between the two of you. Slowly you started to sip on your water. Hawks pretended to drink from his cup before placing it on the coffee table.

“Are you really dating a villain?” You spit out your water and began to cough. Hawks’ deep chuckles echoed alongside your gasping. He pulled you closer to him as he lightly rubbed your back.

You took a breath in as you shook your head ‘no’ to his question. “No -No,” You sternly said. I had a one-night stand a while back but at the time I didn’t know the guy was a villain and I later went to the police about him. I did that after that poor kid was kidnapped and my ex found out about who I slept with from his cop friends.” You started to avoid eye contact with Hawks as quilt over being with Dabi took over.

“You seem to have really bad luck with men, chickadee.” The hand that was resting on your back snaked around to gently stroke up and down your arm. You felt comforted by him and the tears you held in started to come out as relief filled you. He pulled you into a side hug as his free hand wiped away your tears. “Don’t waste your tears on that gorilla.” He gently led your chin up to face him.

There was a pregnant silence as he locked eyes with you. Your blush became intense as you realized the hottie Hawks was in your apartment holding you close to him. “Does that mean you’re single, chickadee?” there was a slight purr to his voice.

“Yess- I’m, I’m single.”  His thumb gently stroked along your jaw line as he kept your focus on him. Your legs stated to rub together, and the subtle shift caused a smug smirk to cross his face.

Hawks slowly leaned in closer to your face tilting, so his breath fanned your ear. “How about I show you want its like to be with a real hero?” When he noticed his sultry words caused you to smile, he lightly rand his nose across your cheek. He pulled his face back away, so you were able to look into his lust filled eyes. His hand was now holding your chin in place dominating your movements. “I need an answer Chickadee... if you want me to continue that is.”

You started to nod your head ‘yes’. Hawks held your face tighter stopping your movements and pulled your face closer to his. His nose lightly grazed yours. “I need words chickadee,” his voice was a sultry deep whisper next to your lips.

“Y-Yes, I…” before you could finish what you wanted to say Hawks crashed his lips on to yours. He pulled away slightly and slipped his thumb into your mouth pulling out your tongue. For only a second you could see the primal lust in his eyes before he started to dominate the inside of your mouth with his tongue.

He smoothly slid you to straddle his lap while still aggressively kiss you. You could hear his feathers fluttering as you both adjusted. His hand tightly gripped your hips as he helped grind you over the thick hard bulge in his pants. You broke the kiss letting out a wonton moan from the sensation. One hand left your hip and started to gently cup your face. On instinct you nuzzled into his hand.

“Such a good girl, (Y/N). My beautiful chickadee.” His praise caused butterflies to spin in the pit of your stomach. His gentle touch caused goose bumps on your skin and each wet kiss left a chill from the air. Blinded by your own lust you were unable to notice when Hawks slit his hand along your clothed slit. “You’re so wet already.” A small squeak escaped you as your face showed your embarrassment at his discovery. You started to stutter out a failed excuse when he quickly began to shush you. “I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth unless it’s moaning. So how about we take this to a place that’s a bit more comfortable, yeah?”

Even though he had asked you a question it turned out to be rhetorical. He scooped your legs around his waist as he stood up. His hand sneaking large handfuls of your butt with rough squeezes as he walked. His deep kiss distracted you from the fact he knew exactly where he was going in your apartment despite it being the first time he was there.

Your butt gently bounced on the mattress. When he stood before you the only question you had was ‘when did he take off his shirt?’ You didn’t get much time to ponder your thought when his feather lifted your shirt from your body.

His fingers lased into your hair with the other hand deeply massaging one of your breasts as he deeply kissed you. Slowly he leaned you to lay flat on your back with your legs dangling over the edge of your bed.   He pushed your legs apart with firm hands on your thighs. Hawks trailed gentle kisses as he went down your body to your stretchy leggings.  He bit into the soft skin of your lower stomach while slipping is fingers under the hem of your pants.

He tugged your pants off and began to deeply rub his nose across the front of your panties. “You smell so good chickadee. I wonder how many times I can make you cum on my tongue.” He placed a gentle kiss at the top of you clothed lower lips. You could hear his wings adjust as he sat on his knees between your legs. Your legs were placed over his shoulders locked in place by his strong arms.

You placed a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the moans. Hawks noticed stopped his attack of your clothed delicate area and peeked up at you. “I said I wanted to hear you moan my chickadee.” Strong red feathers quickly pinned your wrists above your head. You wiggled in a failed attempt to get free.

“Hawks? AH.. ahhhh Hawks!”

“That’s better. Now be a good girl and cum all over my tongue.”

Hawks slid your panties to the side allowing him to plunge his tongue deep into your entrance. One of his hands danced gently on your clit. More feathers covered your body stroking over sensitive areas of skin. He carefully listened to each moan and hitch of your breath allowing him to adjust quickly to best please you.

“O-God Hawks!” A blinding orgasm crashed over you. He lapped up your juices and slid two fingers inside you while licking up and down your slit. Slowly he pumped his digits while you rode out your high. He slowly scissored and stretch your entrance before slipping a third finger in and increasing the speed of his thrusts. The nonstop pleasure he gave you quickly cause you to cum once again only this time your orgasm crashed harder over you.

“A squirter? Damn that was hot chickadee.” Hawks released his grip on your thigh as he gently licked and sucked up your juices from his fingers. “Spread your legs. I want to see the mess you’ve made.” You felt exhausted trying to catch your breath but somehow managed to open your legs wider for him.

Slowly the stars faded from your vision, and you gazed upon the handsome winged hero that was standing smugly between your limp legs. His face glistened with your juices and your eyes trailed down his chiseled body to see him in only a tight gray boxer brief. His hard twitching bulge was hardly hidden by the cotton fabric. A damp spot of precum started to form. He chuckled watching you drink in the sight of him.

“Hope you’re not tired already because this is nothing. You’re not going to be able to walk once I’m done with you.” He slid his shorts down to freeing his member. It bounced for a moment off his stomach leaving a thin trail of precum. He was long and slender with a thick vain that ran along his length.

“Ready for me?” He knew your eyes were lustfully locked on his member, so he tensed his muscles causing it to bounce a few times. “Like what you see?” His ego could be seen from space, but you couldn’t argue with him in that moment.

Gentle feathers slipped your panties off your body. He drank in the sight of you bare before him. “So beautiful chickadee. I want you so bad. I can't hold back anymore"

With those sweet words he gripped himself and began to rub his head along your slit enjoying the feel of your juices. He rubbed him self on your entrance with slight pressure and then would pull back to rub along your slit once again. The teasing was agonizing. You tried to push your hips into him, but his feathers still had you pinned in place.

“Please Hawks, I want you inside me.”

With a smooth thrust he pushed his full length inside in you. A pleasurable scream escaped you. He stilled for a moment rubbing his thumb over your clit allow you a chance to adjust to his size. Slowly he began to move his hips.

“Oh chickadee you feel so damn tight. Your .. FFUCK.. milking me.” His rhythm picked up and he soon began to flutter his wings aiding in his deep harsh trusts into you.

You began to writhe and cry out under him. He continued to harshly pound himself into you as two more orgasms hit you. He slowed down slightly and locked a deep kiss with you. Within seconds of kissing, you he was moaning into your mouth and a heat rushed into your womb.  Peppering light kisses on your cheek and neck while slowly pulling out of you.

His feathers were released from your body. You laid there unable to move panting heavily. Exhaustion from the multiple orgasms was taking over you as your eyes could barely keep focused. Gentle hands stroked your face and sweet whispers of praise coaxed you to sleep.

Hawks had his feather swiftly slide you up the bed to a more comfortable spot. While you slept peacefully, he took a quick photo of you before tucking you under the blanket. He tucked himself back into his clothing and walked out to your balcony.

The crisp evening air blew past his face and the lowering sun painted the sky with vibrant colors.  Hawks pulled out his phone sent a quick text before he was able to slide his phone into his pocket it rang. He laughed when he recognized it being the number, he just texted.

“Hey Dabi.”

[delimeful]

taking the fall (3)

warnings: imprisonment, interrogation, injury, mild blood, panic and sensory overload, dehumanizing language, ambiguous motives, morally neutral/antagonistic janus, snakes mention

-

His guest wasn’t eating.

Janus cast an irritated glance over to the terrarium, where the only “life” that could be seen was a clump of thick foliage in one corner.

He’d left the old fake plants in there as a taunt, but as soon as the tiny creature had ascertained that there were no snakes in the grass, they’d immediately bundled every bit of shiny plastic greenery into a makeshift nest and hid within it. He supposed he should have expected it, from one as industrious as these tiny folk all seemed to be.

Regardless of his guest’s reticence, he’d been setting small dishes of food in there whenever he himself took his meals, giving them some time to adjust to the reality of their situation. It had been a couple of days, however, and every miniature entree looked entirely untouched.

His prisoner seemed to be on a hunger strike.

It added more evidence to his theory that he was being misled in regards to his guest’s identity. If they were actually a victim in all this, why bother keeping quiet and refusing to give the answers Janus needed? Why go so far as to not even eat, for people who allegedly wouldn’t care if he lived or died?

No, things made much more sense if this was a gambit on the tiny people’s part, one of them volunteering to stay and play sacrificial lamb, distracting him for as long as the others needed. Their terror, their injury, their tiny bitter laugh, it could all be part of a ploy for pity on his end. Get him too invested in a puzzling prisoner while the others escaped.

The thought made his stomach drop unpleasantly. His opponents were exceedingly small, and he was one of the few who knew they existed. If they got away, he’d never see them again.

He couldn’t afford that.

Pushing his chair back, he approached the terrarium, casting an assessing eye over the food set out in it. Some of it could sit out, and had been there overnight, the best time for his guest to eat without risking even seeing Janus. But no. Not a single crumb out of place to indicate that anything had been eaten.

“Still alive?” he asked dryly, rapping a knuckle on the glass once.

There was a long pause, and then one of the leafy stems sticking out from the nest twitched twice. This daily question and response was the only communication he’d had with his guest since that first afternoon, and even this small, silent answer had originally been prompted by a threat of Janus reaching in there and checking himself.

“I notice that you’ve been refusing any sustenance,” he continued idly, and got nothing for his efforts. “Planning to die before you can give up any secrets?”

No response. Janus sighed as though put upon, and slid the terrarium lid halfway off. There were still no meaningful movements from the nest, though it seemed to be subtly trembling. It was impressive that despite the dark clothing that his guest wore, he still couldn’t make out exactly where they were even this close.

With narrowed eyes, he reached in and grabbed a few of the plastic leaves, tugging to pull the construction apart bit by bit.

He only caught the faintest flicker of movement before there was a sudden sharp pain in his index finger, and he yanked his hand back on reflex.

A weight came up with it, putting even more pressure on his wound, and it dropped as soon as his hand was just above the terrarium lid.

Seeing the dark shape attempting to scramble away, his other hand smacked down on top of it automatically, pressing it into the mesh with a small, muffled cry.

He glanced at his hand. There was a plastic thorn hooked in his thumb, the broad end chewed off and the point of it sharpened. His guest had attacked and used him as a makeshift lift in their escape attempt.

“Oh,” he intoned, voice dark. “Seems like you have plenty of energy after all, hm?”

---

Virgil took in short, gasping breaths, barely able to hear whatever threatening thing the human was muttering as pain radiated through his leg.

It let up just slightly as the pressure of the hand on top of him eased, his face no longer pressed into the cold wire netting of the cage’s top. Before he could try and string two thoughts together, the fingers were curling around him like a hawk’s talons, lifting him up and sending another jolt of mind-numbing pain through him. He might have whimpered.

So much for that escape attempt. He’d known it was a long shot, but his options had been limited after realizing that he literally couldn’t stand on the injured leg any more. They’d dwindled further with every day he couldn’t bring himself to crawl over to any food or water. Living outside, he’d survived on very little before, but it was a gamble every time.

He was flipped to face the light, the human’s head in silhouette above him. He couldn't make out it’s words. Everything felt overwhelming, made incomprehensible by the pain and the dark spots in his vision. His face felt hot. Was he bleeding?

Things went blissfully quiet above him, and then he was being moved. He wondered if the human was about to kill him, and the thought sent a much weaker pulse of panic down his spine than usual. He hoped it killed borrowers before feeding them to it’s snakes.

Something soft and dark dropped over him, and he thrashed for a moment before his leg reminded him how awful an idea that was. So he laid still instead, letting his terror shake through him in waves, until he wasn’t completely lost to it anymore.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, feeling at what was draped over him. Cloth, soft in texture and tightly-knit enough that not much light got through. Below him… a warm, living surface.

“Awake?” the human said, voice both closer and quieter than he’d ever heard it.

Another shudder worked through him, and he reached up to press his hands over his face, wishing none of this was real. His eye pigment had run, drying in tracks down his cheeks.

He wouldn’t be able to reapply it. The locket he stored it in was left behind with the rest of his stuff, tucked away into his oversized pack and left at the opening into the human’s home. It had probably already been torn through and picked apart by Mari and the other insiders.

The thought stung, somehow more personal than the nightmare of the situation he was already in.

“I believe I see now why you haven’t eaten,” the human continued with a surprising lack of snark. It must have seen his leg. He felt a little sick just thinking about it.

What had felt like a low-grade fracture through the adrenaline had ended up growing worse and worse without treatment, until the injury was a solid lump of swollen flesh and ugly bruising that twanged with agony at even the slightest shifts. He wondered if the human was going to use it against him. It would make torture exceedingly easy on its part.

“Continue with the silent treatment, and you won’t get any actual treatment,” it said, now sounding exasperated.

After another stretch of silence, the hand beneath him moved and tilted, sliding him off onto a flat surface. Suddenly desperate to know what was going on, Virgil yanked at the cloth, dragging handfuls of it down until he reached an edge and could pull it clear of his eyes.

The light in this room was dimmer, but it still took him a moment to adjust. He wasn’t in a snake tank, but on top of a low table in what looked like a sitting room, if he remembered the human terms right. The human was seated on the couch nearby, looking down at him.

“There you are.”

---

The tiny person shot him a furious glare, rendered mostly ineffective by the dark tear streaks that were still smudged along their face.

Janus wished his earlier reflexes had been a little gentler. He’d had a quite embarrassing moment of panic where he’d thought the grotesque worsening of their leg injury had been caused by his grasp, rather than simple neglect and lack of treatment.

Despite his patience, they didn’t reply, continuing to just stare at him. He stood, ignoring the way it instantly made them begin trembling again.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Feel free to move around and make your injury worse,” he instructed dryly, before turning and going to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

His thumb was still sensitive, the injury messily scabbed over with dried blood. He’d pried the thorn out with his teeth easily enough, but with his other hand occupied by a prone tiny person and their hyperventilation fit, he couldn’t properly treat it.

Upon his return, he saw his guest had abandoned his handkerchief and was halfway to the edge of the table. He rolled his eyes, and set the kit down before grabbing them by the shoulders and sliding them back over to the handkerchief.

“I was being sarcastic, you know,” he told them, and opened the kit to start cleaning his undersized injury. “I’ll be very unhappy if my only source of information dies a completely avoidable death for no reason.”

“Yeah, because I sure wouldn’t want to make you unhappy,” his guest bit out, and then looked as though they were deeply and immediately regretting opening their mouth. Janus didn’t know why; he personally took much better to sass than being stabbed.

“So you do know how sarcasm works. Color me impressed.”

The tiny person actually hissed at him, like the world’s most emo kitten.

“Yes, yes, I feel very threatened,” Janus retaliated by prodding them with the edge of an open tube of arnica gel. “Here. For the bruising.”

After another long glare, his guest spoke. “What do you want for it?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t it be argued that I owe it to you, for allowing the injury to fester while you’re in my care?”

“Your care--!” his guest cut themself off, taking in a deep breath through gritted teeth. “Terrible hosting etiquette aside, you weren’t the one who gave me the injury. Not your concern. So, what do you want?”

Janus wondered absently how tiny people qualified their hosts’ manners. He had certainly already failed by human standards, immediately imprisoning his guest and all, so perhaps it didn’t really matter either way. He wasn’t above taking advantage of a tiny person’s bartering honor system. “Answer three questions.”

“I get to pass on questions I don’t want to answer,” his guest countered quickly, apparently having expected this.

“You get five passes,” Janus allowed. Seeing what they refused to answer would be informative in itself.

“... Fine.” With another glance at their injury, they grabbed the tube sharply enough that they almost overbalanced. “Ask.”

“Where are the others living?” Janus asked, just to set the stakes high.

“Pass,” his guest answered, not even looking up from their task. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Why are you defending them?” he tried.

“I’m not defending them,” they shot back, vitriol thick in their voice. “I just don’t want you to get what you want. That’s one question.”

“Ouch. I’m hurt, really.” Janus tapped his nails along the table idly. “What’s your name and pronouns?”

This did prompt them to look up, face pinching up in confusion. After a moment, they returned to their baseline expression of scowl and retorted, “That’s two questions.”

“It’s one sentence, it counts as one question,” Janus lied smugly. They still looked close to passing, so he gave them a nudge. “Unless you want me to make something up? I’m very creative, I assure you.”

“I use he,” he finally grit out, “and you can call me V.”

“For Vendetta?” Janus mused, and received an utterly baffled look for his wit. “I suppose your movie repertoire isn’t that expansive.”

“Two questions,” V said flatly. “One left.”

“Yes, I can count.” Janus glanced at V’s gel-covered leg. “You have to rub that in for it to work.”

V’s expression flickered to one of despair, but he bit his lip and started to slowly massage the gel in. Janus wondered at how easily he’d believed him.

“What do you call yourselves?”

“Pass.”

“Where did you live?”

“Pass.”

“How do I bait the others out?”

“Pass.”

“Why do you hate me more than the ones who allegedly put you here?”

V’s hand slipped, and he winced and paused for a moment. “... Pass.”

There was certainly a grudge there. Too bad Janus had no idea what it could be about. Oh well.

He set a hand on the table, leaning over V. “When do the others plan to leave? As specific as you can get, please.”

“Pa--,” V cut himself off, and Janus could see the moment he realized he had used up all his get-out-of-questioning-free cards. He patiently waited out the tiny person’s fit of frustration.

“... I don’t know.” Janus’s smug grin dropped, but V continued after a speculative pause. “I don’t think they’ll leave before the season's turning. The spring thaw has been slow this year, and they’re-- not suited for it.”

Janus felt some of the tension drop from his shoulders. The start of summer. He had time, and the advantage of a weather forecast app. That was good news, even if he’d had to wrangle it out of his guest. He had time.

“How interesting,” he said lightly, and capped the gel to put it back in the box. V’s hands were clutching the edge of his coat tightly, as though guilty or angry. Or perhaps just stressed. “Let’s get some food in actual range of you, then, shall we?”

[shurisneakers]

shut in [1]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: cursing, violence, guns, death

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: greetings. i have returned with a series that i have actually finished writing beforehand so i just have to post the chapters and yes this means i will not let this go incomplete  shoutout to my bitch @midnightsunfae​ for putting up w me mwah lov u if i’ve completely butchered sam’s character, tell me so i can delete my entire account pls and thanks 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Shut In Masterlist || Main Masterlist

“Alexander Pierce.” The file fell on the table with a resounding thud.

“What about him?”

“I want him dead.”

The house stood tall; obnoxious, almost, with loud embellishments of gold. It screamed wealth spent lavishly and without any reasonable thought.

Also it was ugly.

You scaled the gate, landing on the gravel silently. There were no security measures that you could see beyond the automated entry and CCTV whose light wasn’t blinking. Must have been a power outage. An unlikely coincidence, but it just made your job easier.

You made a move towards the side of the house, staying close to the trees that lined the driveway, out of the direct line of sight of the house’s front door. 

His car was parked outside; a swanky looking race car kept outside just for show. He was definitely at home.

A window at the side of the mansion was left slightly ajar. A quick sweep up the side of the house proved that the rest of them were shut.

Your eyebrow quirked up in suspicion, quickly taking a look around to see if you were being watched. For a few seconds the world didn’t seem to move, eerily silent other than the rustling of leaves.

Pierce was clearly the flagbearer of home security.

You stuffed your gun into the waistband of your pants, freeing both your hands to tug yourself into the room.

Your gun found its way into your hand once more as you scanned the room. He wasn’t on the bed. You deemed the silence as an indicator to safely to move ahead. 

So far it seemed easy.

Too easy?

Ransone’s body was spread across his chair, leisurely stroking at his stubble. His other hand thrummed rhythmically at the timber in front of him. His eyes were glazed over; physically present but mind wandering elsewhere.

You waited for him to explain further, knowing better than to interrupt his train of thought.

He had the strangest penchant for drama and theatre. From what you could gather of the dim light in the room and his stance, he had just watched The Godfather. Again.

“Do you know how long it took me to build this business?” His words sounded like a musing, akin to a private thought he was letting you in on. “This empire, Y/N?”

“Twenty three years.” Your arms were crossed behind you, a sign of discipline he demanded from all members of the organisation. 

“And I haven’t gotten there by being the neighbourhood church boy.” He gestured to one of the two men beside him, a rifle strung across their back at the ready. One of them-- Rumlow--  stepped forward, lighting a cigar and handing it to him.

He took a long drag, taking his time to exhale, flicking at the cigar to get rid of the loose ash. If he just got to the point, you could have left about twenty minutes ago.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he admitted, “but you know? I won’t be blamed for them. A bit of collateral damage was inevitable.”

His chair swayed from side to side as his feet thumped at the table. It annoyed you endlessly. You never told him.

“And you know how I feel about collateral damage, right?”

“Show no mercy.”

The house was silent, except for the faint sound of the television some distance away. You wouldn’t have been able to see if not for the moonlight that illuminated the space through the large windows.

Your gun pressed tightly to your side, you made your way down the open hallway. As you passed by the kitchen, the ticking of the timer on the oven made you pause. The oven itself wasn’t on but the clock was still ticking.

A bowl was kept on the marble island separating the rest of the hall from the kitchen. A pair of car keys lay mangled among a couple of dollar bills and loose change like he threw it in carelessly. 

Continuing further down the hall, you came to the realisation that it culminated in a room that faced his backyard. Only a single glass sheet acted as a barrier between him and the outdoors.

You could hear the show getting louder, hidden from your line of sight by the couch in front of it.

Pierce’s head faced away from you and towards the only light source in the room. He hadn’t heard you come in.

From what you could see, he was asleep. Head slumped slightly, arm slinked over the backrest and no other movement.

It wasn’t actually a TV, just an iPad on its loudest setting with Netflix playing what looked like Horrible Bosses. A man with exquisite taste, obviously.

You took one step at a time, slowly making your way towards the couch until you were just a step or two behind him. You raised your arm, pressing your gun to the back of his head.

“Show no mercy,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth turning upward as he looked at you.

You wanted to shift under his stare. Your muscles were beginning to feel a dull burn, a sign that you had been standing still for too long. 

“So tell me, after all my effort-” he stuck his bottom lip out mockingly- “should I let my fucking company get destroyed by one person?”

His hand harshly slammed down on the table as he lurched forward in his chair, eyes seething.

You nearly jumped at his sudden change in demeanour, knuckles tightening in anticipation.

“Tell me, boys, how far do I tolerate liars?” His stare didn’t waver, looking straight into your eyes.

“You don’t.” Their voices were eerily synchronised. You wondered if they ever rehearsed together. Probably did.

“Lovely.” Ransone smiled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t.”

“Liars?” Your voice had risen by an octave or two, your surprise catching you off guard.

“Someone has been sneaking information to Serpentine for nearly two years.” A chill ran down your spine, the muscles in your jaw tightening. “They’ve been growing exponentially and someone’s been helpin’ them do it.”

Only someone didn’t fear death would turn their back on him. Someone who had nothing to lose.

“We have reason to believe it’s Pierce.”

A moment passed where you expected him to wake up, turn around and look at you so that you could deliver Ransone’s message to him, a quippy one liner about betrayal or something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his head shifted under the pressure of your gun, falling over as if it was weightless.

Your face pulled into a frown as you made your way to the front of the couch swiftly, gun still held tightly in front of you.

Your shadow dimmed the light that fell on him from the iPad, but it was impossible to deny.

A single gunshot to the front of his head. Eyes wide open, red from the lack of moisture. The blood around him painted a gory scene that was impossible to notice from behind.

“What the-” you murmured, lowering your arm.

“I can tolerate one mistake. Everyone deserves that.” Ransone shrugged offhandedly. “But this isn’t the first one he’s made.”

“So you want him gone.”

“That would be lovely, yes.” He relaxed into his chair once again, taking another hit from his cigar.

“Why do you want me to do it?” you asked, eyebrows knitted together. Generally he would send you for something more high-profile. Raids, infiltrations. These kinds of hits were what you left behind years ago.

“A spy has security from the ones they’re working for. It’s possibly more dangerous.” His feet found its way onto the table, one over the other as he stretched back. “And I’m not sure my other agent can make it.”

“Thanks,” you spoke monotonously. “Glad to know I’m your first choice.”

“Don’t take it personally.” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “He probably won’t show.” 

His sleeve fell slightly to reveal a sliver of his tattoo. A spider, the symbol of his authority.

Each of his employees had a web inked on their skin that grew with each passing year of their service. It was how you identified each other in passing.

“You have an opening on Friday. His house help leaves at 8 sharp and he’s alone.”

You nodded, picking up the file in front of him, avoiding his fingers that had returned to thrumming on the tabletop. You acknowledged the two men beside him before making your way toward the door.

This house was all the way across the country. No wonder he gave you a bit more time as compared to usual to prepare.

“It’ll be done.”

The sound of a gun clicking away from you made the hair on your neck stand up.

You sprung up, arms extended in front of you instinctively towards the sound.

Even in the dim light of the room, you could see a man standing a few feet away from you. His hand held a glock, aimed towards you.

Neither of you said a word. Time stood still for all you cared. The only indication that it didn’t was that Horrible Bosses was still playing.

“Who the fuck are you?” you finally asked, voice surprisingly calm for the adrenaline that was spiking through your body.

“Who are you?” he questioned in retaliation, tone curt.

“I asked first.” You wondered if he could see you roll your eyes.

He didn’t reply, obviously.

A beat passed and you almost forgot the dead body that lay near your knees. Almost. It didn’t help that his fingers were nearly touching your leg like some kind of pervert; not that you could blame him for it this time.

“Did you kill him?” he finally relented, mentioning towards him quickly with a tug of his shoulder.

“What-” You recoiled, head slightly jerking back in disbelief. “No. Didn’t you?”

“He was like this when I got here.” He paused, and you let him speak. “And then you came in; thought you were comin’ back to check.”

“I just got here.”

“I can’t confirm that.” His answer was instantaneous, almost cutting you off before you finished.

“And I can’t confirm you didn’t kill him.” You took a step away from Pierce, never breaking his gaze. “The odds are kinda against you here.”

“I didn’t kill him.” He only took a step toward you, making you stop where you were. He wasn’t going to let you get out of this.

“What a compelling argument,” you drawled sarcastically. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Cookin’ him dinner,” he snapped back quickly in a manner that would usually make you smile if it weren’t for the situation you were in presently. “What do you think?”

“Who sent you?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why did they send you?”

“I can’t tell you that either.”

“Then give me a reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger right now.”

“You first.”

It was a shame you had to kill him. You found his resilience fun.

“Well, it was pleasant-” You were cut off by the sound of a bullet whizzing past your head. It struck the vase next to the couch, instantly exploding into hundreds of shards.

“Did you just fucking shoot at me?” you yelled, swiftly raising your gun so that it was pointed at his forehead.

But he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at the large glass, too distracted to pay heed to what you were saying.

You slowly followed his line of sight to the window.

A large fracture in the glass surrounded a small hole, nearly invisible from your distance if you weren’t looking hard enough.

You looked back at him to find him staring at you.

A split second later the glass sheet shattered, sending the pieces all over the room. You launched yourself behind the couch heavily, avoiding the barrage of bullets being shot your way.

From the corner of your eye you could see the man dive to take cover behind the couch with you.

“What the fuck?” you asked loudly, back pressed against the backrest as various items shattered around you. “Who the hell are these guys?”

“The shittiest bodyguards ever.” He looked over his shoulder but slid back down again when a shot nearly missed his face.

You didn’t even know where to shoot; the bullets just seemed to be coming from the shadows of the trees.

Taking a moment to assess the man breathing hard next to you. He was tall and muscular, a tight fighting shirt stretching across his chest. His hair was cropped, eyes dark with what looked like irritation more than anger. Hot.

Your attention was drawn to a trail of blood left on his forehead as he wiped at it with his forearm, him seemingly unaware of it.

“Dude, I think you got grazed.”

He looked at you questioningly. You pointed at his arm with your shoulder. His eyes dropped to it, letting out a string of curses as he tugged his sleeve back to look at the wound.

He didn’t have to pull it back much before the sight of a familiar design greeted you.

A spider web. Drawn intricately with the lines stretching delicately across his skin like lace.

A tattoo.

“You work for Ransone?” None of this made sense. Why were there two of you on the same mission? Who was this guy? Was he supposed to be here?

You didn’t wait for his answer, pulling your sleeve back to reveal the same tattoo, smaller in size, but indicative enough.

He took a second to process. You could almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Great,” he finally said as a bullet lodged itself in the wall you were facing, bitterness lacing his words. “It’s a set up.”

“Oh, one more thing, Y/N.”

You spun on your heel to look at him. A devilish smile grew on his face.

“Remember- we don’t tolerate liars.”

You stared at him, not uttering a word, waiting for him to make his point.

“So make sure you let him know that.” His smile only grew as you turned around and walked out the door, letting it shut behind you.

The crunching of feet over glass made you look over your shoulder, only to quickly retract before your head was blown off.

They were wearing ski masks and all black tactical suits, leaving not even an inch of their skin uncovered.

“I count four or five. There may be more,” the man next to you said slowly.

“You take the ones on the left, I’ll take right,” you instructed, seeing him nod his head. You didn’t even know his name but apparently you were working together now. 

You gave a small countdown before pivoting on your knee to face them, eyes already set on your target.

Firing off two shots, you saw the first one fall to the floor, soon accompanied by his teammate as you shot a round at his forehead.

Four were down, counting the bodies next to them on the floor, but the bullets didn’t stop firing at you. They clearly were in a much larger number than you anticipated.

You weren’t sure how many more bullets the couch could absorb. The both of you were basically sitting ducks; who knew how many more were out there. You had limited ammo because you didn’t expect a fucking SWAT team when you came to kill one man.

“We need to go,” he voiced your exact concern.

“Yep,” you grunted, shifting to reload your gun from the spare ammo in your pocket.

You didn’t know how to get out of here considering that you didn’t bring your own-

“I got a plan,” you said. He looked at you inquisitively. “You know the window in the west bedroom, hall dead-end?”

He nodded. Perhaps he was the one who left it open when he arrived.

“On the count of three, make a run for it.” You winced as a bullet tore through the fabric of the couch, right near where your shoulder was a second ago.

“We can’t outrun them,” he hissed, quickly shooting behind him before rejoining you on the floor.

“Trust me.” Bold ask. You wondered if he would.

“I don’t.”

“Do it anyway.”

You didn’t really care if he didn’t. At least you’d get out.

“One.” You shifted to sit on your knee. You could see him sit still, not joining you.

“Two.” Your gun was pressed to your side, at the ready.

“Three.” Like an athlete in a race you took off, not daring to look behind you even once as shots rode the air, narrowly missing your body.

You almost didn’t hear his groan and a small “Fuckin’ hell” before heavy footsteps ran behind you.

You smiled triumphantly, until you remembered the both of you were being followed, at least four more shooters hot on your heels.

You shot a single shot behind you, hearing someone wheeze before a loud thump of a body hitting the floor. Hopefully it wasn’t the guy you were with, but you couldn’t find it in your to care much if it was.

You raced past the numerous rooms you passed on the way here before it suddenly widened into the open kitchen.

Your body moved in autopilot, a detour in the form of a quick skip as you reached over and grabbed the contents of the bowl on the counter, fumbling to hold onto the car keys as loose change fell to the floor.

The oven timer went off, not for long before you heard its door splinter into pieces as someone shot at it in annoyance.

You took a sharp right into the room, followed by the man who took the time to kick the door shut behind him, buying you maybe a second or two of time.

You nearly flung yourself out of the window, the gravel not exactly providing the softest landing as you scrambled to open the door of the car.

“Get in!” you yelled at him as he obliged, yanking the door and jumping into the passenger seat. You threw the few dollars you had caught hold of by mistake on the floor of the car.

You could hear the door of the room being kicked open, and what seemed like angry shouting as the window cracked, leaving nothing in its wake.

You revved the engine, slamming the accelerator with as much power as you could. The car lurched backwards, and you cursed, switching gears to go forward. 

The harsh sound of metal on metal followed you as they shot at whatever they could. You prayed they wouldn’t accidentally hit the wheel or gas tank. They didn’t exactly seem like the best in the business, having missed most of their shots. 

“Go go go!” The guy beside you was holding on to his seat tightly for support.

The car broke through the rusty gates. You cringed at the dent on the hood, but didn’t slow down even for a second as you wove through trees of the estate, not losing speed even as you got onto the highway.

Silence befell the both of you for a good amount of time, but not enough time to process what had just happened. Your adrenaline was still high as you drove well above the speed limit. 

Your next step was unclear.

You were in a car with a complete stranger. You weren’t sure if you were injured somewhere. You didn’t even know where you were driving to.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “What the hell was that?

Part 2