#ain’t nothing I can’t do with a gun

[wren-is-a-wreck]

Hint ladies:

If your man says “BANG, BANG! YOURE DEAD!” while killing people…

That’s a red flag 🚩 🚩 🚩

Also that’s not your man, that’s Clyde Barrow, and he’s a prison escapee

[finniestoncrane]

Ain't So Bad

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.1k i want this man to do horrible things to me, i want him to tell me he'll make sure i'm ok when i know full well he's the most dangerous thing around, he's driving me INSANE anyway i'll have a softer thing for him soon!! 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon/noncon, restraints, use of 'no' but reader is quick to do as told, restraints, slight threat, gun mention, hair pulling

The sun had thankfully almost set, the long shadows cast by it a welcome relief, though it did mean that night was coming, along with the threats that were its constant companion. But you always assumed you were safe, travelling with your own companion. Especially when that companion was Cooper Howard. Charming, despite his foul attitude that put most people off. Handsome, at least to you, and much to the disappointment of the more ‘reserved’ folks you came across out in the wasteland. And you felt lucky, most of the time, to consider him yours. But you suspected that, while he kept the danger away, that there was a reason for that.

Even predators had something they were afraid of. There was always a greater evil.

And as the darkness fell, his silhouette lit only by the small fire in the corner of the roofless room, you began to realise that Cooper was a lot more dangerous than you had let yourself come to terms with.

“Cooper, wait… we’re not safe enough, I don’t…”

You trailed off, aware that your words were falling on deaf ears as Cooper dragged his dry lips across your cheek, grazing his teeth against the skin as you felt him pushing you backwards, your spine straightening against the crumbling wall behind you.

“It ain’t so bad out here… certainly won’t be when you see what I’ve got in store for you.”

“Please, Cooper… no, Coop, I can’t-”

Interrupted by your own sharp inhale, you held the breath as you watched Cooper’s eyes settled on yours, your hands above you head against the wall, his hands tight around your wrists, preventing you from holding him back any further.

“I’m here to keep you safe, darlin’. You’ll be fine.”

His words meant very little against what you knew was lurking out there, and your nerves pushed your protests out of your clamping throat.

“But Cooper, you know I get scared… I don’t want to do this, not here.”

“Well too bad, missy…”

He lifted your hands and slammed them back down again, watching as you winced at the dull pain.

“… it ain’t like there’s a nice place I can take a girl like you for something like this…”

Cooper’s grip loosened, one of his hands leaving yours as he fumbled with the belt on his pants. You could have easily pulled away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t be sure why, and you chose not to linger on that thought, luckily distracted from it as Cooper’s unbuckled belt clanged, his eyes back towards you.

“…Now, are you going to be a good girl and take it?”

The free hand now drifted to his hip, pushing back his long coat, his palm lazily resting on the holstered gun by his side before he continued speaking. Slowly, clearly, in a low, guttural tone.

“Or am I gonna have to be a bad man and take. It.”

His stare penetrated you, like he could see through your skull to the wall you were trapped against. Your chest seemed to stay completely still despite the deep breaths you took. When you tried to speak, your tongue stayed flat, your lips trembling, nothing but a squeak of air managing to pass between you.

“I asked you a question.”

All you offered was a stuttered mumble and a sheepish nod of your head, a smile offered to you by Cooper as he kicked your legs apart with his muddy boot. Two gloved fingers teased at the front of your pants, pulling them away from skin before sinking below the waistband and brushing against your thickened lips. Excitement, adrenaline, fear. All of it passed over you in a heartbeat, your heart fluttering as he removed his hands from you. Bringing the fingers to his lips, he bit down on the leather with his yellowed teeth, tearing off the glove and tossing it to the ground. His fingers were back down quickly, spreading apart your folds. His uncovered fingers delved inside of you, only briefly, before he withdrew that small modicum of pleasure from the otherwise intense and nerve-wracking situation.

As he separated himself from you, your back arched involuntarily away from the wall, your body betraying your protests as you ached for more of his touch.

“My, my… you sure were fussing a lot for someone who is clearly enjoying themselves…”

Bringing his two fingers up, he spread them apart, watching carefully as your slick stretched in long strands between them.

“Bend over.”

“Cooper, wait, please, I-”

Gripping your waist, Cooper knocked you off balance and let you fall to the floor, a cloud of dust rising up around you.

“I done enough waitin’, darlin’.”

As you struggled to get onto all fours, you felt yourself knocked once more, cheek slamming to the ground as your arms were pulled up behind your back. You could feel the rope tightening around your skin, your wrists bound together and stuck against your spine.

“Now listen, you just lie there…”

He leaned down, whispering into your ear, his hot breath tingling you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“… and try to keep quiet.”

Behind you, Cooper fell to his knees, pulling down his own pants before turning his attention to yours, uncovering just enough of you that he knew he could slip himself between your thighs and into your wet, warm cunt without leaving either of you too vulnerable to any surprise guests.

Once his other glove was off, you could feel his palm sliding up your back, cracked nails scratching at the nape of your neck before his fingers gripped your hair. Your back contorted as he lifted your face from the ground, positioning you perfectly for his curved cock, lubed with his own drool which he let drip down from his lips in a long, lewd strand, to slide inside of you with little mercy. He pounded into you once, setting the tone for the rest of the encounter you had to endure.

But he hadn’t lied.

“Just a little longer, darlin’, we’ll have you back on two legs… just hng gimme… ah… fuck, that’s it…”

His brutal pace, the way he was so desperately trying to get to the conclusion, the relief, the pain of the stretch, the heat in your own chest that made you moan in response to the way his cock pulsed within your walls.

But he was true to his word.

Because while one hand was tugging at the hair, fingernails scratching your scalp, his hips bucking into your body, knocking you forward and into the ground, his other hand clutched the shotgun, finger teasing the trigger, tempted to send shots into the air at his climax, but ready to defend you both against anyone, or anything, that threatened to interrupt him.

“See, darlin’… not so bad after all.”

[laundrybiscuits]

The officer leans close, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “You’re damn lucky it ain’t ten years ago or one state over,” he growls. “You could be looking at a felony charge, serving 15 to life. We didn’t stand for this kind of thing in Hawkins when I joined the force.”

Steve just folds his arms and gives the officer a bored look. “Okay,” he says. “Good talk. Can I see my boyfriend now?”

The officer sneers, but he steps aside to let Steve through. They’ve got Eddie cuffed to the hospital bed with another gun-toting guard in the corner. 

“Jesus christ,” snaps Steve. “He’s not gonna escape, he can’t even walk right now. Why don’t you clear out and give us a little privacy, huh?”

“Sorry,” says the guard, not sounding all that sorry. “It’s for his own protection.”

Fuck. He’s gonna have to hope Eddie can follow his lead. All that practice pretending to be a wizard or whatever has to be good for something, right?

He perches on the side of Eddie’s bed and takes his hand. He can do this. “Hey, gorgeous. How’re you feeling?” 

“Uh,” says Eddie, eyebrows doing something hilarious. “Steve?”

“It’s okay,” says Steve. He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. This is the most they’ve ever touched, he thinks—the most that was just skin, no layers of denim or leather in between. Not even a layer of blood and dirt. 

He swallows and keeps going, willing Eddie to develop freaky mind-reading powers all of a sudden. “I know you didn’t want to tell anyone about us, but I had to, baby. I’m sorry. I had to tell them you were, y’know, with me when…when Jason killed Chrissy.”

“You didn’t have to tell them about us,” says Eddie slowly. He’s giving Steve kind of an intense look. “Honey-pie. I’m sure there’s gotta be another way. One without as many consequences for you that you might not have thought all the way through.”

“There really isn’t,” Steve says. Thank god Eddie’s so quick on the uptake. Sure, he’s being a stubborn dick about it, but at least it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let anything slip. 

“Fucking hell,” sighs Eddie. “Don’t suppose we can put that pesky little cat back in the bag. Okay. Darling angel, light of my life, corndog of my soul, who else knows?”

Corndog of my soul, Steve mouths to himself. “Just the cops. And Robin and Nancy, obviously. And—oh, remember Hopper?”

“Do I remember Hopper, he asks. Oh, pudding-pop. The late Chief Hopper and I spent so, so much quality time together over the years; he was practically a father figure to me. And just as with my actual dear old dad, his departure was cause for great rejoicing in Casa Munson.”

“Sorry to break the bad news, then. Hop’s alive, and he—uh, he knows everything.” Steve tries to communicate the scope of everything by kind of tilting his head back and forth. “He’s been…helping.”

“Huh. No shit,” says Eddie. Steve can’t tell whether or not he’s getting it. To be fair, there’s a lot to get. “Okay, gallant knight errant of mine, any news on whether or not I’m getting sprung from this charmingly appointed dungeon?”

“We’re…Hopper’s working on it. That’s why I’m. Y’know. Here. To tell you that they know about us.” 

“Cool, right, understood.” Eddie closes his eyes, leaning back on his pillow. It’s so strange to see him in nothing but a hospital gown against white sheets. He looks like a wrung-out dishtowel. 

There’s a commotion from outside, raised voices saying something like you let him what and haven’t even interrogated the Munson kid yet and not a legal status you fuckin—

“Time’s up, sweetheart,” says Eddie, mouth quirking up into the ghost of a smile. “Anything else you wanna say before they decide to upgrade my security?”

“Uh,” says Steve. He’d mostly been focusing on getting the basics of Eddie’s alibi across in a convincing way, and he can’t remember if there were any other details Eddie should know. 

He hears the door slam open behind him, and panics. “Love you, bye,” he says, and ducks in to brush a quick kiss across Eddie’s chapped lips. The last thing he sees as he’s hauled bodily out of the room by a pissed-off detective is Eddie with his eyes gone enormous and shocked, lifting his uncuffed hand to his mouth, looking and looking at Steve like something is always going to be different from now on, forever.

(ETA: small continuation here!)

[ladymacbeth-writes-sometimes]

You get pissed off with Daryl for putting himself in danger. He fixes it.

First time posting any writing so my apologies for the shit everything.

598 words of poorly written smut that isn’t proofread and was written in forty minutes.

I will regret posting this.

Daryl had done it again.

You were pissed -beyond pissed- when Rick let it slip that he and your boyfriend had come close to dying at the hands of the Saviours again because Daryl refused to stay safely behind the Hilltop’s walls. You didn’t give a shit how much Rick needed his help getting guns to pay that bitch with the shit haircut; Negan wouldn’t kill Rick. The psychotic bastard wanted to torture Alexandria’s leader and needed him alive to do so, but you couldn’t be sure that his twisted desires extended to Daryl.

“Jesus, girl,” Daryl says, holding his arms in front of his face as you throw a plethora of household objects at him. “Calm down, will ya?” When you throw one of Gregory’s hardcover books you stole at his head -a copy of War and Peace that probably could kill a man- he grabs your wrists. “You’ve ‘ad yer fun.”

You kick at him when he shoves you onto the couch, nicking his calf. Unsurprisingly, the handsome bastard didn’t even flinch, just crossing his arms while waiting for you to stop your temper tantrum. “Do you have a death wish?” you demand.

“‘M ‘live, ain’t I?”

“Barely.”

“We took care o’ them. Negan ain’t gettin’ no information from a bunch of dead men.”

“He’ll know it’s you, Dar.” He says nothing and, annoyed at his nonchalance, you stand up and punch him. Try to, at least. You fought well, but someone of his size had no goddamn right to be so fucking quick. Daryl flips you onto your stomach, pinning you to the couch.

“Ya know what’s wrong with ya?” he asks, pulling your pants down to your ankles. “S’that you ain’t had a good fuckin’ since I got back, hmm? Would some dick make ya feel better?”

You struggle against him, though you have no intention of getting away. “I’d feel better if you stopped trying to get yourself killed!”

He roughly spanks your ass, making you squeal and squirm more. “Wet, ain’t ya?” he teases, rubbing your soaked folds. “Poor little pussy’s so empty ya can’t even think straight.”

“Stop it,” you say. “I’m annoyed with you.”

“I know, baby. I’ma fix it.” The stretch is divine when he shoves in, bordering on painful due to his size and the lack of prep. “Say ‘thank ya’, girl,” he orders. “Tell me how grateful ya are tha’ I’m makin’ ya feel better.”

“Daryl,” you plead. He doesn’t move, torturing you until you give into his demands. “Thank you! Goddammit, Daryl!”

You can almost feel him smirking. He never smiled more than he did when he was giving you his cock. “Tha’ didn’t sound very grateful. Say it ‘gain.” For further encouragement, he angles his hips so that he hits your g-spot just right. The hand that isn’t pinning you down snakes under your body to toy with your clit..

“Okay! Okay! Thank you, Daryl. Thank you.”

“Tha’ll do.” He starts rutting into you, roughly sliding in and out of your slick pussy. “Good little pussy, takin’ me so well.”

It’s almost embarrassing how close you are to your peak already. In your defense, the man fucks like a god, and you get wet just looking at him.

Bastard.

He toys with your clit and you peak hard, hardly noticing him biting your shoulder as he climaxes with you. “Feelin’ better, girl?” he asks, fastening his pants back up.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you want a quickie every time you’re about to go on a run. I’m still mad at you.”

“I’ll live, sweetheart.”

[dorkszn]

SOULLESS + katsuki bakugou

SYNP — after losing your quirk, you had no idea what to do with yourself and katsuki couldn’t help you

WARNINGS — masc reader, suicide, quirk loss, heavy angst | 1.3K

A/N — did i cook, y’all? 🥺

Your quirk was what made you. That was the mentality most people in this world had. It was what you grew up on. You took it seriously. Your quirk defined you.

Katsuki knew this. He understood you. Even he knew he was more than his quirk. He never put you down for it, he just pushed you to work harder.

And you pushed. You pushed and pushed and pushed. Until it all fell to shit.

You don’t process the silencing sound of the gun shooting until you feel the impact. The world slows while simultaneously crumbling around you. You can’t hear. You can’t hear Sir Nighteye shouting, you can’t hear Izuku’s gasp, you can’t hear Togata’s cry. You just feel. Feel a part of you being ripped away.

The bullet sits in your body. And you feel. You feel the gash in your flesh. You feel the blood seeping from the wound. You feel the sting of its penetration. Then you feel the strength drain from you. You pushed too far.

Everyone described your time in the hospital as uncharacteristic and silent. The only time you spoke was when Katsuki visited you. And he felt. He felt the emptiness radiating from you. Even then, you sat in quietness as you attempted to tell him how you were feeling. Empty. Weak. Soulless.

He couldn’t treat you like everyone else. For one of the first times in his life, he knew, a quirkless person was nothing less than him. He had to treat them right. He had to treat you right. Which he did of course.

Your mental and emotional condition always hurt him. Always made him feel like a piece of him was missing. Even when you were allowed to return to your training. When you’d help him with his special moves or by sitting on his back while he did pushups.

It was a mental trick. It was supposed to make you feel like you were back. It was supposed to make people see you and smile and pat you on the back. Giving you “good job!” and “we’re glad to see you back.” But you weren’t back. You weren’t anything. And nobody knew. Nobody knew until Katsuki and Aizawa did.

A normal day of physical therapy while everyone else was training. One where Katsuki requested to come with you and one where Aizawa sat in with you. Your arm wasn’t functioning like before. No part of you was. Not your mind, heart, or soul, if it was even still there.

The physical therapist gave you your usual spiel before leaving you with the two men.

“The way you’re taking this ain’t very heroic, you know?” Aizawa told you, taking a seat next to you on the bench. He put a comforting hand on your head, pulling you close to him.

Your words struck through the two like the bullet that hit you. The bullet that robbed you. “I’m not a hero anymore. I’m nothing.”

That’s when the two realized. You weren’t the same. The hero you were and the person you were now, were completely different.

Katsuki saw the signs. He knows he did. His only mistake was not knowing what to do about them. He had sick thoughts. He thought maybe if Izuku had gone through with his words, he’d know the signs. He’s grateful that Izuku is alive and well but a bit upset that he didn’t have the experience he needed.

You zoned out often, stayed in your dorm all the time, slept in class, and barely spoke at lunch, you wouldn’t text with your old spark and enthusiastically run up to him after school. He missed you. Not any more than he does now but he did. Even though you were right there. Like you were just a body floating its way through life.

He told Aizawa. Aizawa said to give you time. Katsuki doesn’t blame him. Not entirely. He couldn’t have known. But giving you time was the wrong move. Giving you time was the last thing you needed.

Katsuki knows he should’ve been smarter the day you gave him a letter. An envelope that you didn’t want him to open until the next day. Aizawa got one too. So did Hitoshi. And Izuku. But none of them thought anything of it. Just a way for you to get the words you couldn’t say out.

Katsuki should’ve known after seeing the way you grinned around everyone and stayed by his side all day. But he was stupid. He thought you were getting better.

Dear, Katsuki Bakugou.

Katsuki. I love you more than anything in this lifetime. I am forever grateful for what you’ve given me. My life has gone so much better than I ever expected because of you. I want to give you the world. I tried. I tried really hard. But I can’t. Everything feels dull and nothing feels right. I feel trapped and I don’t feel like myself. And I can’t get out of this slump. Being here feels like being dead. I’m not here. I know this would hurt to text you or say to your face. I can’t think of those eyes of yours without it hurting me. Nothing is your fault. Never. Thank you, Katsuki. I love you in this life and beyond. Take your time, hold your ground, and become the best. I’m rooting for you. I’ll see you on the other side or in another life. I know if I become myself again, I will always find you.

Love, your dumbass, y/n l/n.

The wind rushed past you. Everything looked so different from your view. The same scenery you’d be taking in for the past few months sits ahead of you but it looks different. It feels nice. Maybe because this was the last time you’d see it.

The ground glares up at you, it’s pavement calling to you. The moonlight shines on your skin, casting your shadow on the rooftop of the dorms. You try to smile. To take it in one last time. But you can’t. Your mind won’t let you. Whatever was left of your soul won’t let you.

You just take a deep breath. And feel. You feel the bullet breaking your flesh and shattering your bone. You feel Katsuki’s warmth surrounding you. You feel Aizawa’s hand on your head. You feel and feel and feel. Before you fall.

It only took minutes after sunrise before you were found. An unlucky student stumbles across a corpse. Their blood-curdling scream immediately grabbed the whole world’s attention. It only took hours for them to collect you and identify you.

After that, it only took minutes for it to be announced to the class. It only took seconds for Katsuki to unwillingly break down. As fast as the bullet ripped your quirk from you, his soul, his mind, and his heart were ripped from him.

It only took seconds for the pity and grief to intoxicate the room. Poisoning every first year and teacher at the school. It only took days for Katsuki to finally convince himself to read the letter. It only took seconds for him to break down again and be pulled into Aizawa’s chest.

It only took a week for Katsuki’s world to crumble.

He visits you through the snowy days and warm nights. Sitting in front of your stone and replacing your flowers. Your soul is long gone and it feels as if his was too. The picture of you in his t-shirt, stupidly grinning at the camera stares into him. And he feels. He feels the hurt. He feels the pain. He feels your warmth. He feels your missed presence. He feels and he feels and he feels. Until he doesn’t think he can anymore.

“You weren’t nothing, y/n. You were everything.” He pushed the words out.

[99k4manii]

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The 4th of July !

⚠️ warning !: fluff, smut, sex in a car, unprotected. Oral (fem receiving ) !definitely not proof read!

It was late a night around 12:35. Fireworks and gunshots where going on outside celebrating the 4th day of July. you was laying down chilling till felt ony get out the bed. “where you goin’?” you asked while still laying down eyes closed. “I’m gonna go shoot some fireworks!” You sighed and didn’t say nothing after that. “You not mad is you?” He asked before taking his gun out the drawer. “Nahh. But you best not be out there being crazy ya’ hear me?” You lifted up turnt back point you’re finger at him like you were scolding him. “Mama I promise I won’t!” “Okay ony..” you said slunching back into bed.

About half an hour later ony was shooting hella fireworks and shot his gun Atleast twice. There was a bunch of fireworks popping outside from many different yards, it was beautiful, they were pushing it, it was barely even the 4th it was still 12 something. You decided to get out of bed and go on the bedroom balcony wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of ony’s psd boxers. and your blonde lace in a clawclip style, watching him blow some small fireworks moving on to the bigger ones till he noticed you. “Mama? you not cold wearing them little ass clothes?” “Tuh.. baby I’ll be ohk” “nah mama I’m just saying you wearing that lil shi outside so..” “boy worry bout them damn fireworks.” He laughed “okay okay..” “mhm. Just make sure we still got some for the actual day.” You said rolling you eyes with arms leaning on the bars of the balcony looking down at him “alright I gotchu ima just blow a few more,” y’all stayed in silence a bit watching as the fireworks popped and crackled. “Baby I can’t wait to see you in your little outfit tomorrow.” He said bluntly but you could hear the smile through his words. “Baby who says I’m going anyways?” “Oh come on baby you been talking bout showing off that little outfit since you got it.” “Baby, it’s just that it’s most of your friends not mine.” He chuckled and took his hold on the fireworks and turned around to face you. “Baby…” ony looked at her with a sad look “onyankopon. You not bouta quilt trip me with that look…”

The next day your at the pool party. Yes he did “convince” you. You were wearing you cute little pink swimsuit with a pink skirt as a cover up. “He was talking to his friends all day basically ignoring you. But you wasn’t Gon let the slide so you made a couple friends, but the dj started playing TGIF by Glorilla.

Which happens to be one of your favorites but since ony was always around you always had to listen in silence, but since he wasn’t here…

“It’s 7pm Friday it 95 degrees I ain’t got no nigga and ain’t no nigga ain’t got me! I’m bouta show my-” you felt somebody familiar behind you. It was no other than ony in his black swim trunks “what the fuck don’t you got? And what you finna show?” “Hi baby!” You said with a nervous smile “nuh uh don’t “hi baby” me. I should fuck yo lil ass up.” “Well baby you can’t really be mad! You left me by myself and-“

“F-fuckkk onyyy” he held your hands be behind your back while your face down ass up in the back seat of his sexccc ass, matte black Camaro he groaned with his head down watching your ass recoil…

A hour and a half went by and y’all came back to the party and chilled, this time you stayed by his side whole time. so you don’t do no more stupid shit.

After the party everyone was sent to a huge field and a whole bunch of fireworks starting going off, including ony’s. They’re where so pretty and bright, you sat on your knees a couple feet behind ony. He lit a fire work then backed up watching all the little flames burst into colors. after a couple rounds of fireworks everyone was down and went home..

You took a shower changed in to a loose crop top and shorts with no underwear / bra and got into bed putting your phone on charge and grabbing your iPad waiting for ony to come to bed. He walked in wearing some shorts and slide his body onto the bed, he kissed you cheek and went down to your neck and gave a couple kisses there, then he held your waist and you gave him a couple kisses. Then y’all feel asleep cuddled up together and your show still playing on your iPad..

.

So y’all wanna know how he convinced y’all to go..?

.

.

“Fuck onyyyy~~!” You said tugging on his hair while he goes down on your pussy “cmon baby I know you love it..” he mumble against your folds and looking up at you innocently like he wasn’t eating the soul out of you. “Onyyyy puhleaseee” you said throwing you head back almost falling of the edge of the bed. He slid a finger in your gaping hole, then 2.. then 3.. “baby are you gonna go..?” He said licking faster and pushing his fingers in and out of you faster and hard. “I’ll goo..! I’m goingtothepartyYYy~!” You said moving on his fingers with clit grazing his nose. “Good job mama..” He said with a smile lifting his mouth from you then slowly sliding his long monster machine inside…

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Hiii babes! Look I finally posted! Yauppp I did my big one! I posted !! (I’m too proud..).. anyways I hoped y’all liked this! 💗 I’ll be posting more soon!

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[ive-been-timebombed]

PART THREE

💥Danny the avoider💥 and ✨Jason the Daddy issues✨

Jason decidedly hated Wickham. Both in the story and the blue dumbass. He had barely caught Dick when he decided to take an early leave and the damn floating asshat is just watching him like he was a the best thing he had seen in fucking years.

He needed to get Big Bird to the cave to check out whatever the fuck is happening to him. He needed to deal with the being and he didn’t know where to start. He can’t just shoot this problem and leave the problem could kill him with a snap of its fingers.. are they even fingers? The damn claws on it said otherwise..

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” Jason glared at the being pulled his brother up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Ghost, like you.?” The being spoke it looked awkward and it was picking at its nails similar to a kid.

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ Jason adjusted his helmet onto his head and looked around for his guns and the Dickheads sticks. Ignoring that panicking face of the being.

______

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” His son- his baby.. he can’t believe that his baby is right in front of him.. the very same one that he held all night when they wouldn’t stop crying.. the very same one that had explosive poops almost every night. Okay he didn’t miss that part. Or the other.. but he missed when he could look at his baby in the bed sleeping as laugh at the small snores that reminded him of his father’s. Or even the smile the kid had whenever he got back from work and picked him up from the neighbors.. oh god.. he really fucked up.. he gave his child away because of how selfish he was.

Back on track- wait did his kid not know he was a ghost? Actually he couldn’t judge. He didn’t either.. kinda really just thought he gained meta powers and not died.

“Ghost, like you.?” Danny said to his kid he felt so damn awkward.. he knew he should be more confident- being the king god thing of basically all does that to one. Take Pariah Dark for example. He was ugly yet still had the confidence to speak like he was the toughest guy around. Good reasons too, at the time he was the toughest guy around. Ghost? Guy? Same thing. No it’s not..

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ His kid truly hadn’t had a clue what he- wait. No, no, no he can’t lose his kid again. He already lost the rest of his friends and family he can’t lose his kid. Sure he had the ghosts and Ellie but this was his kid! The same kid that he held for three hours straight the night before he had to give his child away. He couldn’t let go again he couldn’t- wouldn’t. He knows where he is now- his core! He almost forgot! He needs to do something about that-

“No!” Danny yelled a bit louder than he wanted. His kid looked over at him his face was covered by the helmet thing. Why was his kid wearing that? “I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” His baby- grown up baby.. he didn’t see his baby grow up- held up the gun he had found on the ground pointing it at Danny,

“Oh- sorry” Danny floated back a bit he didn’t even notice that he got closer, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

Danny was a horrible parent wasn’t he? He horrible, horrendous, good for nothing parent. Oh.. he shouldn’t ruin his baby’s unlife anymore than he did. He should just fix his core make sure he is okay and leave. Is it getting hard to breathe or is that just him..? He could feel his core crying out to his baby’s core.. he couldn’t leave him again. He couldn’t but he had to. His baby had a life that wasn’t with him. He needed to respect that.. the lump in his throat didn’t go away.. in fact only got worse at the thought.

_________

“No!” The being yelled. It scared Jason. It was like his insides, his brain.. the pits wanted to go up to the being and hug it. Like it could fix all his problems with just a hug and a few words.. like he felt when he got those faint memories of his bio dad. He was told he was adopted or given away by his bio dad to his mom. His Ma explained that his dad, better than the Willis, His dad had wanted nothing more than to keep him. But he was in big trouble and made the decision to give him away for his safety. Lot of good that did. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if his dad didn’t give him away. Would he be happier? Would he have different siblings? Would he be in college and become a lit major? Or even an author? Would he have died..? Would his dad avenge him unlike Bruce.? Is his dad even alive..?

“I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“ The being continued, who the hell was Frostbite? Jason didn’t care enough to ask. He needed to not be near the thing that made him think so clearly.

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” Jason almost relaxed his body with how close the being got. He needed to not be here. At all. Away.

“Oh- sorry” The being floated back even apologized, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

“My parents were fucking awesome! My Ma was the best mother I could’ve asked for- Sure my adoptive dad was shitty as hell. But my Ma told me even my bio dad loved me like a life line. That he gave me up for my safety! Fuck even the only damn picture I had of my father he looked at baby me like a was the best thing in the world!” Jason snapped he knew he didn’t turn out like Dick or even fucking replacement, the picture perfect son but he knew his Ma and Dad loved him like they were supposed to. The only picture he had of his Dad was destroyed in the explosion. The picture was of his Dad, the somewhat skimpy black haired with white at the nape man, the blue eyed the was cold but looked at him with warmth, the man that had a scar on his lip and inhuman sharp teeth man holding a two or three year old Jason who was sleeping in his fathers lap. He loved that picture like it was the last bit of air on earth. He reminded him that he had someone out there that loved him out of the streets, when he was fighting with Bruce, when he was an idiot and got himself killed.. fuck.. he even tried to yell for him when he was laying on the cold concrete covered in his own blood after the Joker left him.

The being looked at him with wide eyes, it tilted his head and his mouth open a bit like he was gonna say something. That’s when Jason noticed it. The scar on the beings lip. The exact same scar that he used to look for on every man in Gotham when he was younger. The same scar that he looked at for years in the picture of his father. The same scar he wanted to give himself just to have something to remember him.

“Wait-“ Jason started his voice cracked, like a fucking teenager. Then the fucking man himself, Batman, broke through the window making Jason look at him then back over at the being in a panic only to see nothing but an empty room. Not even the summoning circle was there. The only evidence left was Wickham..

[chvoswxtch]

stakeout

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: going on a stakeout with frank doesn't go anything like you thought it would.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, a lil steam ;)

word count: 9k

a/n: fun fact: I originally started writing this specific idea as a standalone fic months ago & then when i started doing this series, i knew it would be perfect for it, & i've been excited to finish it & share it with y'all ever since. grab a snack & a drink, get comfy, bc this is almost 30 pages of yearning & pining for our favorite soft bad boy frankie. thank you so much to my darling angel @spoodermain for being my wonderful beta reader & offering your genius feedback that really made this part shine. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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How you had managed to talk Frank into letting you join a stakeout with him, you still weren’t sure, but it was nothing like you thought it would be. The entire three hour drive upstate was nearly composed of pure silence, only interrupted by trivial questions on your behalf, and answers in the form of monosyllables and grunts on his. The two of you had been sitting in his truck for almost six hours now, parked off on the side of a dirt road a good distance away from what looked like an abandoned warehouse that you hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave from.

You were going absolutely fucking stir crazy.

“Why can't we just go in?”

Frank let out a deep exhale through his nose, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye in pure annoyance before returning his attentive gaze back to the warehouse.

In his defense, you had asked this question at least five times already.

Letting out an impatient sigh of your own, you turned your body slightly in the passenger seat to face him while gesturing loosely to the warehouse with your hand.

“Frank, we haven't seen anyone in hours. We could go in, take a look around, and probably be back before anyone even-”

“Hey hey, no. Ain’t no we. Alright, you’re stayin’ your ass right here. And I already told you why. It’s too out in the open. I got no way of knowin’ if there’s anyone in there watchin’, and I can’t tell if they got some kind of security system ‘round the place-”

“So call Billy. See if he knows-”

“Bill ain’t the head of security for the entire goddamn world.”

Frank’s snappy quips and his irritated tone had you throwing your hands up in exasperation, and you dramatically sank back into the passenger seat of his truck, glaring out your window as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine. Then I guess we’ll just keep sitting here in fucking silence and you can keep brooding.”

Frank let out another heavy exhale from deep within his chest, and you could practically feel his intense stare against the side of your face.

“Look, I know this ain’t the most excitin’ thing, and you can’t sit still to save your goddamn life, but this is how we do this smart, and it’s how I keep you safe, alright? I ain’t takin’ any risks with you. I know patience ain’t your strong suit, but I need ya to try for just a little longer, alright? We don’t see any movement in the next hour, we’ll call it, and try again tomorrow. See if we can come up with another plan. Yeah?”

“Fine.”

Frank let out a tiny chuckle at your bratty response, and all of a sudden you felt something land in your lap. You glanced downwards as a crease formed between your brows, seeing an extra large version of your favorite candy bar. When your eyes flickered over towards Frank in curiosity, you noticed that he was already eyeing you with an amused smile. He shook his head slowly, returning his line of sight to the warehouse with another soft chuckle.

“Eat that and quit poutin’.”

A light scoff left your lips when you picked up the candybar and tore open the wrapper, suddenly noticing the way that you had been ignoring your body’s alerts of hunger. 

“I’m not pouting.”

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart. Just remember, you asked to come along.”

“And you let me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Frank shook his head again in response to the pure sass dripping from your voice, and you caught the way the edge of his mouth tugged higher upwards into a wider grin.

“Thought this would be the one time you were quiet for some reason.”

Letting out a dramatic scoff of bewilderment, you reached out to smack your palm against his broad shoulder, which only caused laughter to bellow from deep within Frank’s chest. You doubt he even felt your feeble smack through the black denim layer of his jacket. Rolling your eyes playfully, you looked away with a tiny victorious grin after noticing the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed like that. 

He looked so carefree; like that usual heaviness he carried around wasn’t weighing him down, just for that small moment. Frank had such a beautiful smile, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world every time you got to witness it. 

Taking a small bite of your candybar, you muttered under your breath, making him snicker.

“Asshole.”

»»———　　———««

Forty five minutes later, a police car silently pulled up behind Frank’s truck, and your heart started to hammer wildly in your chest. The flashing of bright red and blue was almost blinding in the opaque darkness surrounding the empty dirt road he had pulled onto. The truck was parked far enough away from the property that the flashing lights shouldn’t have alerted anyone that could be inside, but the explanation as to why the two of you were here in the first place was a whole other problem.

Especially considering that you were technically “missing”.

“Shit.”

Frank hissed quietly as he stared at the patrol car in the side view mirror, his full lips settling into a hard line as he reached underneath his seat to retrieve a pistol that was hidden. Your eyes immediately widened as the silver metal became illuminated by the faint moonlight, and you glanced frantically between Frank’s stoic face and the cop car in the rearview mirror.

“What are you doing?”

Frank hastily brought his index finger to his lips when you whisper-yelled at him.

“Preparin’ for a problem.”

Frank’s eyes remained narrowed on the reflection in the side view mirror as he pulled the hammer back on the pistol, the sound of it cocking in place only fueling the speed of your tumultuous heart rate.

“Put it away!”

Scrunching up his dark brows, Frank turned his head slightly to stare at you incredulously as if you had just said the most ridiculous statement in the history of the English language. 

“What?”

“Frank-”

“You got a better goddamn idea?”

Great. You’re not even supposed to be here, and now you’re about to either go to prison or die in a shootout.

Your eyes frantically searched around Frank’s truck for something that could help the two of you out. As Frank rested the gun against his chest with a firm grip on the handle and his index finger pressed along the barrel, an idea suddenly popped into your head that made your stomach flip.

“Put it away.”

Frank turned his head and stared at you curiously when he heard the firm tone of your voice, but his confusion quickly morphed into pure annoyance. He scoffed, opening his mouth to protest before you turned in your seat to face him.

“You asked if I had a better idea and I do.”

Frank stared you down for what felt like an eternity. His features were set in a harsher version of their normal broody appearance, and the hardness in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he ground his teeth, stealing one last glance at the side view mirror before stashing the pistol back underneath the seat, grumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“Now what? What’s this grand fuckin’ plan of yours, huh?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the door to the patrol car swing open. Quickly dashing across the truck bench, you ungracefully climbed onto Frank’s lap. His entire body immediately went rigid, and he looked absolutely stunned as he stared into your eyes. 

“What-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed onto the back of his neck and leaned in to firmly press your lips against his. Frank stilled completely beneath you for a good thirty seconds, and you could feel the tension practically radiating from his body. You started to worry that maybe you should have at least given him a snippet of your plan before-oh.

Oh.

A warmth suddenly spread across your thighs and it took a second for your brain to register that it was from Frank’s hands. They experimentally roamed up the expanse of your thighs until they slowly climbed up your hips, settling on your waist in a firm but delicate grip. All the previous anxiety that was buzzing in your veins seemed to be drowned out by the sensation of the tender pace of his lips finally responding to your chaste kiss.

God, his lips were as soft as they looked, and so warm. There was a bitterness to the way he tasted from the copious amounts of freshly brewed black coffee he had consumed, but it was cut through by lingering sweet mint from the gum he had spat out earlier. 

The gentleness of his touch and his uncertain kiss was surprising for someone who was so rough in so many other aspects of their life. You couldn’t help but grab a small fistful of the collar of his gray henley while you melted into his strong chest, your fingernails lightly scratching at the back of his neck with your other hand, holding him as close as physically possible. A low groan sounded quietly in the back of Frank’s throat when you dragged your nails against his skin, and it traveled straight to your-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jumping at the sudden intrusion of noise, you turned your head to see a young officer staring between you and Frank awkwardly, the end of his flashlight hovering over the glass of the driver’s side window. When the window was slowly rolled down, the seriousness of the previous situation broke through the haze of lust you had found yourself in, and you suddenly remembered why you were in Frank’s lap in the first place. Before you could scramble out an explanation, Frank’s rough voice cut through the timid silence and startled you.

“What?”

The young officer jumped backwards immediately from the way Frank practically barked at him, and you turned your head to stare at him in surprise. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his thick brows were knit together in pure frustration, and you could see that familiar flame of rage burning in his eyes.

He looked pissed.

Looking back at the officer, you let out a nervous laugh as you pressed your palm flat against Frank’s chest in an attempt to calm him, flashing the young man a soft smile.

“I’m sorry, is…is there a problem?”

He gulped as his eyes flickered from Frank’s unwavering hardened glare to you, nodding slowly as he uncomfortably gestured behind himself with his thumb.

“I…sorry to uh…interrupt. It’s just…well…this is private property. You’re…technically trespassing.”

Hearing the aggravated grunt that sounded from Frank as he opened his mouth to speak, you quickly covered his mouth with your small palm and let out another nervous laugh, trying to keep the officer’s attention on you.

“I’m very sorry, that’s um…that’s my fault. It’s…it’s our first night with a babysitter so, we got a little…carried away. I’m sure you can understand?”

There was a hopeful tone to your voice as your lips parted into the most convincing charming smile you could muster at the moment, hoping he would take the bait so that you and Frank could leave without a scene being caused. When the young man’s lips parted into a light smile, you felt a sense of ease wash over you. 

“Of course, I can definitely…understand.”

But that ease was short lived when you caught where his line of sight went, and felt Frank’s grip on your waist tighten possessively.

As the young officer spoke those words, he made the mistake of letting his eyes wander over your chest in a shameless way, and you panicked when you felt Frank lean forward, reaching with one hand underneath his seat while also shielding your chest from the man’s prying eyes with his large body.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

The officer instantly took another large step back, holding his hands up in surrender and mumbling a string of apologies as Frank started going off on him, reaching for the handle to the door. You quickly grabbed his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you, staring into his furious glare with wide eyes as you whispered frantically through gritted teeth.

“Frank, stop it.”

Glancing back over at the young man, you let out a soft laugh as you waved your shaky hand dismissively. 

“I’m really sorry, we’ll just…leave. We’ll leave. Have a good night.”

Quickly rolling up the window, you scurried back into the passenger seat and swiftly put your seatbelt on. When Frank didn’t move an inch, you turned your head to look at him, seeing a twisted up concoction of anger and confusion on his features. You hysterically gestured towards the steering wheel as you gawked at him.

“What are you doing? Drive!”

Frank’s jaw hardened as he let out a heavy grunt, turning the keys in the ignition and flashing the officer one final death glare before peeling off onto the dirt road in the opposite direction. Once the patrol car was out of sight, you let out a deep breath of relief and held your face in your trembling hands as you tried to calm your nerves.

Your mind was racing with all the worst possible case scenarios. What if that officer was with the Defenders of Freedom too? Is that why he was on that road? Did he get Frank’s license plate? Is he telling the others that the two of you found their base of operations? What would-

“That was good quick thinkin’.”

Frank’s gravely voice cutting through the silence made you realize that neither of you had spoken in the past ten minutes. Turning your head to look over at him, your brows knit together in puzzlement.

“What?”

Frank’s eyes darted over to you timidly, only for a moment, before settling back on the road in front of him.

“Your…plan.”

His voice sounded somewhat strained, and you noticed his features were blanketed in an expression you couldn’t fully make out from the faint glow of the street lights. He almost looked…shy?

Shy was not a word you would ever normally use to describe Frank Castle.

There was suddenly a feeling of heat nipping at the tops of your cheeks, and you were swiftly aware of the lingering sensation of your lips tingling from the kiss. 

Is that why he couldn’t hardly look at you?

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

Frank arched one of his thick brows as his eyes flickered back over towards you once again, his full lips pursing slightly as he nodded.

“Yeah…I s’pose they do.”

There was a layer of questioning in his tone, and you leaned back in your seat as you looked anywhere but at him while clearing your throat.

“It usually makes people look away, or want to get as far away from it as soon as possible.”

A quiet grunt of agreeance sounded in the back of Frank’s throat.

“That’s…smart.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between you and Frank, and the small unoccupied space in the middle of the truck bed suddenly felt like an ocean separating the two of you. Tension hung thick and heavy in the miniscule space of the cab like an awkward fog that you couldn’t have even sliced through with the sharpened hunter’s knife on Frank’s hip.

For the next half hour, the quiet thrum of the truck engine was the only sound disrupting the tense silence.

»»———　　———««

Stepping past Frank’s large frame into the motel room he had rented for the night, your eyes immediately landed on the bed in the middle of the room.

The bed.

The one. 

Single. 

Bed.

Glancing over your shoulder at Frank, he caught where your gaze had gone, and there was a sheepish expression on his face.

“Last room they had.”

Doing your best to appear nonchalant about the situation, you gave a slight nod of your head in understanding as you surveyed the room. The dingy wallpaper was beyond faded and peeling where the torn edges pulled away from the top of the wall. What had once probably been a tasteful shade of tan looked more like a muted shade of gold. The queen size bed in the middle of the room was covered in a multi-shade paisley quilt that the word ‘ugly’ couldn’t even begin to describe, and contrasted sharply with the hunter green carpet beneath your feet.

“You didn’t make a reservation?”

The joke you attempted to make to lighten the mood fell flat as Frank eyed you with an unreadable expression, dropping his black duffle bag onto the floor with a slight thud.

“Wasn’t expectin’ company. It ain’t the Ritz, but-”

“Frank, it’s fine. I was joking.”

“Right.”

The uncomfortable silence and awkward tension were absolutely killing you. 

Things had never been this weird with Frank, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. So you did the one thing you always did when you didn’t want to deal with an unpleasant situation.

You ran away from it.

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

About halfway through rushing towards the bathroom, you abruptly halted in your steps when you realized that you couldn’t shower because you didn’t have anything. You had slept at Frank’s last night, and you couldn’t go by your place this morning since it was an active crime scene. 

You had no clothes. No toothbrush. No nothing.

“Shit.”

“You alright?”

There was a cautious tone to Frank’s deep voice, but it was clearly laced with concern when it nestled in your ears. You turned around to face him, your lips pulled into a tight expression that was supposed to resemble a smile, but probably looked more like a grimace.

“I just realized I don’t have anything.”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly while he looked over at you, curiosity and confusion swirling around in his deep brown eyes.

“We couldn’t stop by my place this morning…and we left kinda in a hurry…so…”

All of a sudden you could see realization dawning on Frank’s face. His features softened considerably, and he quickly glanced at the small analog clock on the nightstand by the bed. It was late, and you were nearly in the middle of nowhere in some small town upstate about twenty miles from the location Frank had been given. There was nothing around the motel except a rundown gas station and a little twenty-four hour diner.

Frank turned his attention back to you, and his dark eyes wandered over you for a second before he met your gaze again. There was an apologetic expression on his features as he reached down to grab his duffle bag, walking over to set it down on the edge of the bed while he unzipped it and started to rustle through it.

“Here, I got some stuff you can borrow-”

“It’s okay. I can just-”

“Ain’t a big deal. I got extras of some things. Can’t promise anythin’ will fit or smell pretty.”

Frank glanced up to flash you a tiny smile as he held out a small pile of things towards you. As you reached out to take the items from him, your fingers lightly brushed against his, and you felt a spark shock through your system. Looking up at him, your lips tugged into a tight timid smile while you nodded.

“Thanks, Frank.”

Without waiting for a response, you dashed into the small bathroom for some privacy, hoping you’d be able to get yourself the fuck together.

Any attempt you were going to make to try to push that kiss from earlier out of your head was completely ruined when you began to lather his body wash in your hands to rub it into your wet skin, being careful to avoid getting any suds in your hurt hand, and comb it through your hair, since Frank was apparently a two in one kind of guy. Even though the temperature of the water was a degree short of scalding, the areas of your body that had been caressed by Frank’s large hands burned hotter.

He had touched you, really touched you, beyond the point of just trying to sell your distraction. He didn’t have to kiss you back the way he had. He could’ve just let his lips stay modestly pressed to yours until the officer walked up.

But Frank seemed to have lost himself in the kiss just as much as you had. 

So why was he acting so strange now? If he wanted that kiss as much as you did, why was he acting more reserved with you now than he ever had before? Was his perceived passion blown out of proportion by your greedy and selfish imagination? 

Or did he simply regret it?

The whirlwind of questions and convoluted doubt only got worse when you slipped his clothes on. 

His clothes.

Frank had given you a long sleeve black t-shirt that was ridiculously soft and comfortable. You had recalled seeing him wear it on several occasions. While it fit him snugly, the sleeves hung comically off your hands, and the bottom of it reached the middle of your thighs. Your eyes had momentarily widened seeing that he had given you a pair of his black briefs, but they fit you somewhat better than the sweatpants he had offered. 

It felt strangely intimate to be in Frank’s clothes. Granted, wearing someone else’s underwear is kind of intimate, but it also made you feel…comforted in an odd way. You were completely doused head to toe in the familiar scent of Frank, and that made you feel safe in a way that you had only ever felt with him.

When you stepped out of the steamy bathroom, Frank was sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand, staring down at it intently. He perked up when he heard the bathroom door creak open, and his eyes instantly snapped over to look over at you. His dark brown eyes roamed slowly over the sight of you in his clothes, and when he finally met your gaze, there was a look there you hadn’t seen before.

But it made your knees weak.

Trying to dispel the thick layer of tension in the air, you cleared your throat as you slowly walked over towards him and handed the pair of sweatpants back with a soft smile on your lips.

“I gave them my best shot.”

Frank’s eyes softened slightly and he let out a light chuckle, taking the sweats from you to place into his own lap.

“Everythin’ else work alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, um…thank you.”

“Sure. We’ll find a store first thing in the mornin’, get ya some stuff. How’s the hand?”

Frank held one of his large hands out towards you expectantly, and without even thinking, you placed your injured one on top of his.

“It’s fine. I wrapped it.”

He pushed back the sleeve past your wrist to inspect your handiwork, delicately turning your wrist from left to right to examine the placement and tightness of the layers of gauze covering your wounded palm and fingers. He made a subtle expression of pride, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours with a nod of approval. 

“Not bad.”

“I had a good teacher.”

Frank looked up at you with slightly raised brows, and then a quirk of a smile curled at the edge of his lips when it clicked that you had learned by watching him tend to your hand last night. 

“S’pose you did.”

When Frank let go of your hand and rose from the bed, he moved to step around you, and you watched him toe off his boots by the door before starting to rummage through his duffle bag again. He had ditched his black denim jacket, and it looked like his shirt was straining against the expanse of his large back. When your eyes wandered upwards, your breath caught in your throat seeing a faint pink vertical line on the back of his neck.

The one you had left with your nails.

A surge of heat instantly spread across the tops of your cheeks, and between your thighs, as the phantom touch of Frank’s firm grasp on your waist burned once again on your skin. You had fantasized so many times about sitting on Frank’s lap and kissing him like that, but your imagination could never compare to the real thing. Your lips started to tingle again at the memory of his warm and soft lips responding eagerly to your kiss, and your ears rang loudly with the echo of his low groan that had sounded in his throat. 

You were all of a sudden painfully aware of the fact that you were getting wet in Frank’s underwear. 

You had never been so affected just from kissing someone before. Not even when you made out with a boy for the first time. Or…any boy you made out with for that matter.

Hell, Steven couldn’t even get you that worked up with his hand in your panties and detailed fucking instructions.

But Frank…Frank just drove you absolutely fucking wild.

“What happens now?”

Frank turned his head to look at you over his broad shoulder when your soft voice cut through the stillness. You could hear the faint desperation in your own voice, and you knew it heard it too. Frank never missed anything. There was a hesitancy to his features, and irresolution swimming around in his eyes, like he wasn’t sure what exactly you were referring to. 

What happens with the investigation?

What happens tomorrow?

What happens next with us, Frank?

Frank carefully turned around to face you fully, and while his face appeared neutral, there was something glowing in his eyes.

“With what?”

His words were laced with pure curiosity, but there was a coveted challenge concealed within them. You didn’t have the courage to ask the question you really wanted the answer to, and you had a feeling Frank wouldn’t answer it unless he was prompted. Even then, there was a good chance he would avoid it. A sobering thought washed over you that you might not be prepared for that answer anyway, so you decided to play it safe.

“Well…we can’t go back there, right?”

Frank’s lips pursed into a somewhat thin line. He almost looked like he was disappointed by your choice of question. His pensive eyes studied you silently for a moment before clutching that same pair of sweatpants he had offered you in his large hand and stalking off towards the bathroom.

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

When the door to the bathroom firmly shut, you flopped back onto the stiff mattress with a heavy sigh and closed your eyes. 

It was going to be a very long night.

These sleepovers with Frank were not going the way you had fantasized about previously at all.

»»———　　———««

Ten minutes later, Frank quietly emerged from the bathroom, and your eyes doubled in size as your jaw nearly became fully unhinged. The dark gray pair of sweatpants that he had offered you were slung dangerously low on his hips, and a delicious white sliver of the waistband of his briefs were peeking out above them. His cropped dark hair was tousled in damp curls, and droplets of warm water cascaded down the expanse of his lean and toned figure. Frank’s skin looked so smooth, like an exemplary chiseled piece of artwork carved into tan marble; a Greek god perfectly immortalized in impenetrable stone.

Your rapacious eyes were particularly interested in a droplet that was leisurely making its way down one of his deep cut v-lines, only to become absorbed by the fabric of his sweats. While you were marveling at the view of the unveiled Adonis before you, a sight abruptly caught your attention.

There was a faint pink scar above his right hip.

In an instant, you were no longer staring at him through cherry tinted lenses of desire, but with a slight pang of sadness cutting through your chest. There were numerous scars marked on Frank’s body. Some were faded, nearly blending in with his normal flesh tone, while some were opaque, a clear striking contrast of pain endured in comparison to the untainted color of skin that had never known affliction. Some were deep indentations nestled in his skin, almost to the bone, while others casually crested above the sea level of undisrupted ripples of flesh. 

“I was a Marine.”

Frank’s deep voice cutting through the silence of the motel room swiftly redirected your line of sight to his face. He had a gray tank top in his large hands, and he subtly seemed to be wringing it with a twinge of nervousness. There was an unrestrained expression of aversion in his eyes, as if he didn’t know whether to hide the evidence of an unforgiving past, or allow you to consume this rare moment of vulnerability completely.

For a moment your eyes dropped to the chain around his neck. 

The gold wedding band.

You hadn’t seen a glimpse of it since that night at the bar, when you’d caught sight of him in your guest bathroom with a few of his shirt buttons undone. You still didn’t know if it was his or if it had belonged to his wife, or what happened to her, but it was hard to look at now.

You didn’t like seeing him look so uncomfortable, so you did your best to put him at ease with a tender smile on your lips as you looked up at him in genuine understanding and grace.

“That…actually makes a lot of sense.”

Frank glanced down at the shirt in his hands for a moment, an apparition of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as a dry and short chuckle escaped his mouth.

“I’ll try not to take offense to that.”

The elusive, light-hearted tone of his voice made you wonder if you could try to dismantle at least one of the many walls that he seemed to have up within him. You didn’t want to pry too much, but you’d had so many questions about Frank for months, and it seemed like he was finally giving you a rare window to get a few answers.

“Is…is that where those came from?”

“Most of ‘em.”

Frank kept his gaze averted downwards on the shirt in his hand as he spoke in a hushed tone, like his admissions couldn’t be uttered above a certain decibel level. It almost appeared as though it was easier for him to be vulnerable with you if he didn’t have to look at you. 

Was he nervous to see your reaction to his rare divulgence? Or was there something lurking in the shadows of history that he couldn’t face?

Was he thinking about your lips as much as you were thinking about his?

You had to focus. You weren’t sure how grand or miniscule this window of opportunity was with Frank. This moment could be just as magnificently fleeting as a shooting star escaping across the cosmos, and if you blinked at the wrong second, you would miss it. 

This could be your one chance to finally break through those meticulously crafted barriers of his. To unravel the chains of mystery that seemed to weigh him down, and finally erase that invisible line separating him from everyone else that he never seemed to let you cross. 

But, you couldn’t push too hard. If your curiosity was too intrusive, he’d immediately shut down. If you misstepped over the delicate minefield of his own temper, you risked an explosion. It had to be the most graceful balancing act you’d ever done.

You had to treat this like the most important story of your entire career. Carefully pose the questions as innocent conversation, instead of an interrogation, and give him the space to answer as generally or as detailed as he wanted to.

Billy’s advice seemed to echo in your ears at that moment.

You gotta let him come to you.

“How long were you in the Marines?”

“Did four tours.”

When you didn’t speak for a moment, Frank finally lifted his head to meet your gaze. There was a twinkle of amusement shining in his warm brown eyes at your evident confusion, and he let out a light chuckle as a crooked smile tugged across his lips.

“All in all, little over ten years.”

A faint blush layered over the tops of your cheeks at your own ignorance. Normally when you interviewed someone, you had the benefit of being able to research them beforehand. With Frank, you were having to make up everything as you go with the extremely limited knowledge you had of him, and of his experience. You knew virtually nothing about the Marines, or the military in general, but seemed to be feeling generous in offering explanations.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I was good at it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Frank glanced around the motel room for a moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts while pondering the question that lingered between you. After a beat of silence, he sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy exhale, just a few inches away from where you had been sitting cross-legged on the middle of the mattress, and turned his head to the left to look at you. 

“Did you always wanna be a journalist?”

Frank’s question took you by surprise. He didn’t often ask you personal questions about yourself, but you decided if you answered his questions honestly, maybe he would do the same.

“I’ve always been nosey.”

The corner of Frank’s full lips quirked up into a knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a huff of air through your nose in a quiet snort.

“That don’t surprise me.”

Giving Frank a playful roll of your eyes in response to his comment, you lightly shrugged your shoulders, looking up at him with a faint smile on your lips.

“I’ve always liked story-telling. I’ve never really had the imagination to come up with my own, but I like other people’s stories, and I’ve always enjoyed writing. I thought a club would look good on my college applications, and I wasn’t very athletic or talented in anything else, so I decided to join my high school’s paper. That’s where I really fell in love with investigative journalism, which I realize sounds ridiculous given I was reporting high school ‘news’ but-”

“It ain’t ridiculous if it was important to ya.”

The sincerity in Frank’s tone coupled with the depth of his alluring gaze almost made you forget what you were talking about. It also made you suddenly aware of the fact that every time you downplayed yourself, Frank was quick to cut off your self-deprecation with a genuine sentiment. For a second, all you could do was stare into his eyes, until you decided to bare your soul in front of him.

“It was the first time I really felt like I was good at something. Like I…I had a purpose. I had something that was…mine. I could do something meaningful…something that mattered. It could be something I was proud of.”

Frank stayed silent while he soaked up the candor of your confession, like he was taking the time to commit every piece of it to memory. Sometimes you felt like he could see right through you when he stared into your eyes, and you felt incredibly small under his undivided attention. His head dipped slightly between his broad shoulders when he turned his head to stare down at his clasped hands for a moment.

“I never knew what the hell I wanted to do. I was a…bit of a troublemaker when I was a kid. My parents…they were older, ya’know? Couldn’t really do nothin’ to control me. I knew that, and took advantage of it. I was a real…”

“Asshole?”

Frank’s lips parted into a crooked smile, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I was gonna say prick. But…yeah. I was a little asshole.”

“Well thank God you grew out of that.”

Frank dropped his head slightly to stare back down at his hands again with a light chuckle. Your eyes followed his gaze, and you noticed a few scars covering his knuckles, resembling jagged designs carved into a tree trunk.

“I enlisted when I was eighteen. Thought…what the hell, ya’know? Was never any good at school or anythin’ like that…and I didn’t wanna get stuck at some…shit job. Thought it was my ticket out, ya’know? Get to travel, play with guns and tanks, that kinda shit.”

The light smile that had been on the edge of Frank’s mouth dissipated slowly, and his thick brows slowly drew closer in together while he rubbed his right thumb over the back of his left hand.

“Bein’ a Marine…it was the first time in my life I felt like I was worth a damn. Like I was really doin’ somethin’, ya’know? Somethin’ good…somethin’ important. I was good at it, damn good at it. Felt like I…like I finally found-”

“A purpose.”

Frank’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and there seemed to be a shared expression of understanding between the two of you. You knew exactly what he meant, and he could see that reflected in your eyes.

“A purpose.”

He repeated those two words in a more quiet and contemplative voice, like he was repeating them more to himself than to you.

“So, how do you go from being a Marine to a bodyguard for a high maintenance journalist?”

“Just that goddamn lucky, I s’pose.”

The edges of Frank’s mouth twisted up into a sardonic smirk when he turned his head to look at you, and you were about to retort with a smartass comment of your own when you noticed something you hadn’t seen before.

Without even thinking, your hand reached out to trace a circular shaped scar on Frank’s left temple with your index finger. He didn’t go rigid when you touched him this time, not like he had in the truck. The smirk swiftly vanished along with the playful crinkles beside his eyes, and his full lips parted slightly while he stared at you intently as you lightly traced your finger over the mark. 

It was indented slightly, and you could feel the faint dip beneath your fingertip. The edges of it were tinted more of a blush shade, making it obvious this wound had been made more recently than some of the others adorning his skin. It almost looked like a bullet hole…and that idea had your stomach twisting into tight knots.

“What’s this one from?”

All of a sudden, Frank’s large hand wrapped around your wrist to push your hand away at the exact same time he turned he pulled his hand away from your delicate caress. His lips were now pressed in a line and that familiar hardness was back in his gaze. 

And just like that, whatever moment you two were having was clearly over. 

Frank suddenly stood from the edge of the bed and silently pulled his tank top over his head, slipping his large arms through the sleeve holes and covering his body with the dark gray fabric.

“We should call it a night.”

Frank’s voice was flat, and you felt a surge of frustration burn in your bloodstream. Every time you felt like you were getting somewhere with him, he pulled back. It was like you were constantly trying to carefully navigate your way up an unclimbable mountain, and as soon as the peak came into view, you lost your footing and fell to the bottom. 

He grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and tossed it onto the floor, and a crease of confusion settled in the middle of your forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll take the floor. You can have the bed.”

You looked down at the queen size bed you were sitting on top of, a bed of which you barely took up any space, and then looked back over at Frank, who was in the middle of making a pallet on the floor.

“Frank, you don’t have to sleep on the floor. This bed is big enough for both of us.”

“Slept in worse conditions.”

You pinched at the bridge of your nose in pure irritation at both the insensitive implications behind his remark and his unrelenting stubbornness.

“So you’ve told me, several times. Thank you, by the way, for telling me that you think sharing a bed with me is worse than whatever the hell your setup was in the military. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle. I had no idea you were such a poet.”

Frank’s face twisted up in puzzlement and aggravation at the tone of sarcasm dripping from your clipped words.

“That ain’t what I-”

“I don’t want to hear a single complaint in the morning when you’re stiff and sore from choosing to sleep on the fucking floor.”

As you vexingly tugged back the thin and somewhat stiff quilt on top of the bed, you slid beneath it, the scratchiness of the cheap sheets against your bare legs only souring your mood even further. While you turned onto your side away from Frank and harshly smacked your hand against the button to turn off the lamp on the nightstand, he stared down at you with furrowed dark brows and a heavy frown in complete exasperation and perplexity.

“Oh for fucks-why is it always a goddamn argument with you?”

“Why are you always such an ass?”

“I’m an ass for tryin’ to be a gentleman and make sure you’re comfortable?”

Dragging your palms down your face with an irritated groan, you furiously sat up in the bed to look over at Frank with an exacerbated expression while the two of you raised your voices at each other in yet another argument.

“How are you making me uncomfortable if I’m offering, Frank? This bed is big, so big that you wouldn’t even have to breathe the same air as me. We could even put pillows down the middle just to make sure that we don’t accidentally touch in the middle of the night, because God fucking forbid-”

“Oh Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine.”

Frank ripped the pillow off the ground and angrily tossed it onto the bed, tugging the covers back from the other side of the mattress to slip underneath angrily. He turned his head to glare at you as he harshly gestured towards himself in the bed.

“There? Happy? You gonna stop fuckin’ givin’ me shit, now?”

Returning Frank’s fuming glare with one of your own, the two of you seemed to be locked in an angry staring contest until you conceded and turned over again, dragging the unpleasant quilt up to your chin. You grit your teeth as you squeezed your eyes shut, letting out an aggravated exhale through your nose. 

As hot as your blood felt in your veins, there was also a nauseating feeling of disappointment settling in your stomach.

Frank wasn’t thinking about your lips. He wasn’t thinking about your kiss at all. If he was, it was him wishing it didn’t happen.

Maybe that was part of the reason he wanted to sleep on the floor and seemed so pissed off at you. He didn’t want to be near you. He was mad that you kissed him without his permission. 

You’d made him uncomfortable.

On the other side of the bed, Frank stared at the back of your head in the dim amber light of the room coming from the other bedside lamp. Turning his head to stare straight ahead blankly at the wall in front of him, he closed his eyes for a moment and let out a slow and heavy exhale as he grumbled a string of curses under his breath. 

After a few terse minutes of deafening silence, you could feel Frank shifting underneath the sheets, and his gravelly voice filtered in through the dense quiet.

“Look, I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt your feelin’s-”

“You didn’t-”

“Yes, I did. I wasn’t implyin’ that sharin’ a bed with you was such a bad thing, alright? I only meant I slept in worse places than on a floor, s’all.”

Frank genuinely sounded apologetic, and you felt a rush of guilt wash over you from the way you had twisted his words, jumped to conclusions, and reacted poorly. He let out another heavy sigh before speaking again.

“I just…wanted you to feel comfortable.”

The hushed tone of his voice made it sound like he was entrusting you with his deepest secret. Swallowing down your pride, you turned on your side to face Frank, looking over at him silently for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.

“Frank, you’ve never made me uncomfortable.”

He was laying on his back, his head slightly propped up against the headboard, but his face was turned towards you. He seemed to be searching your eyes for any thread of faultiness in your words that he could unravel. 

“I…I’m sorry I called you an ass.”

“You’re sorry for tellin’ me the truth?”

Frank arched one of his dark brows, and you could detect a faint smirk on the edge of his lips, even in the dim light of the room. You rolled your eyes as you laughed quietly.

“Can you just let me just apologize to you for making an ass of myself?”

Frank eyed you for a moment with a sly tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Aren’t good reporters s’posed to reserve their conclusions ‘bout somethin’ ‘til they got all the evidence?”

The low, hushed tone Frank spoke in to not disrupt the quiet peace that settled between the two of you made his voice sound sultry. That twinkle of amusement was shining in his eyes again, and you fought the grin that threatened to take over your lips.

Playful Frank was your favorite Frank.

“Are you implying that I’m not a good reporter, Mr. Castle?”

A low chuckle rumbled in Frank’s throat as he moved his right arm behind his head, closing his eyes while he turned his head to face upwards with a faint smirk on his lips.

“Considerin’ you’re trigger happy, and there’s ‘bout three guns within your reach, no. Absolutely not.”

“I am not-”

“Did you not just jump all over my ass a second ago over a misunderstandin’?”

Frank opened his eyes to look over at you, his thick dark brows raised slightly while that faint smirk remained subtly on his full lips.

Narrowing your eyes playfully, you poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and lightly shrugged your shoulders beneath the quilt.

“Well, you gave me the conclusion that you were an ass the first day I met you, and you’ve only reinforced it since then. You also did just admit on record that you’ve been an ass since you were a kid, so.”

Another chuckle sounded from Frank as a grunt of agreeance sounded in his throat.

“I reckon you’re right ‘bout that.”

A few moments of tranquil quiet passed by between the two of you, but you were buzzing with questions on the inside. However, something he said abruptly clicked in your brain, and your eyes widened as you looked over at him.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Are there really three guns in this room?”

“Three on your side.”

Blinking a few times in dumbfoundment, your brows knit together as you stared over at him incredulously.

“What…what do you mean ‘three on my side’? How many are on your side?”

“Two, and a knife.”

“Jesus Christ, Rambo. Anything else?”

Frank let out a deep and amused chuckle at that, placing his left hand on his chest as he shifted slightly on his back to get comfortable.

“In the truck, yeah.”

“What? There’s more?”

“Go to bed.”

There was no firmness in Frank’s voice, just complete entertainment. You glanced around the dimly lit motel room cautiously, wondering where he might have placed them.

“Where are they?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Letting out a scoff, you turned your head to look at him in minor annoyance.

“What if someone tries to break in?”

“I’ll handle it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the mirthy smirk curling on the edge of his mouth.

“What if…five people break in?”

“Highly unlikely, but both guns on my side got a clip that hold 12 rounds. You done?”

An exasperated huff left your lips as you turned to lay on your back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Isn’t it proper safety protocol to let someone know where loaded firearms are stashed?”

“They ain’t loaded.”

“You just said-”

“The ones on my side are loaded. The ones on your side ain’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You said it yourself. You’re nosey, and you never even held a gun before.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but to your irritation, Frank had a point. Not that you would admit that out loud to him. 

A few minutes of silence passed by before you spoke up again.

“You could always teach me.”

Frank opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at you, staring at you in a mixture of interest and confusion.

“Teach you what?”

You turned back onto your side to face him and lightly shrugged your shoulders.

“How to shoot.”

It was Frank’s time to stare at you in dumbfoundment. He arched one of his thick brows while he eyed you.

“You wanna learn how to shoot?”

“I mean…people are only trying to kill me.”

Frank didn’t return the playful smile that you flashed him, and it quickly fell from your lips. This was not going to be something he was going to agree to easily. You were really going to have to fight for this one. You had to show him that you were serious.

“If you hadn’t shown up last night, those men were going to kill me, Frank. I don’t ever want to feel that helpless ever again.”

The devout honesty in your voice was unmistakable, and Frank let out a deep exhale as he turned his head to look up towards the ceiling and closed his eyes again.

“Let’s deal with this shit first, then we’ll talk.”

There was a tiny surge of victory that coursed through you at that. It wasn’t technically a yes, but it also wasn’t a flat out no. You just needed to keep proving to him that this was something you were serious about.

You wanted to bring up the kiss, but you weren’t sure how to approach it. You didn’t want to ruin the peace your playful banter had brought about with Frank, but you couldn’t leave it alone. 

Why was he so goddamn hard to read?

Why was he still being so hot and cold with you?

Even if he was still your bodyguard, the two of you were way past the point of professionalism.

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“I…I’m sorry…if I made you uncomfortable.”

The thin material of the pillowcase rustled loudly in the quiet as Frank turned his head to look at you inquisitively, like he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Earlier…when I…kissed you.”

There wasn’t a desert on any continent as dry as your mouth right now, and your heart was pounding so relentlessly against the sturdy ivory of your ribcage, you swore he could hear it a few inches away.

The cloudy ignorance seemed to dissipate from between his brows, and his features migrated to an expression of recognition. For a moment he didn’t say anything, and it made you realize you found his silence far more unnerving than his unwanted answers.

“You didn’t.”

There was such a confidence behind those two words that it nearly knocked the breath out of your lungs. Those two little words held so many portals of possibilities.

You didn’t; it just caught me off guard.

You didn’t; everything is fine between us.

You didn’t; I wanted to taste you.

Staring over at Frank, words seemed to completely vanish from your brain. You didn’t know what to say. You had no idea how to respond to that. The intensity of his piercing gaze sent a slight shiver tumbling down your spine despite the blazing warmth you could feel radiating from his body a few inches away from you.

The amber glow from the bedside lamp lit up his eyes like the golden hour of sunlight shining through a glass of whiskey. You wanted to get lost in him again. You wanted to take your rightful place on the throne of his lap, tangle your fingers in his hair like a crown, and let him rule over the kingdom inside your body.

“Frank.”

Was the delicate whisper of his name a desperate plea, or an enticing invitation? 

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he answered it.

For a moment, his mesmerizing stare dropped to your lips, and you swore you saw him start to lean in-

But then at the last second, he cleared his throat and turned over onto his side away from you, moving as close to the edge of the bed on his side as he could get. Frank’s voice was rough when it reached your ears, no trace of the warm and playful tone he had used just minutes ago.

“Get some sleep.”

That hopeful ember of desire that he had ignited in you had been completely snuffed out by his own hand before the flame could even catch, and the ambient light in the motel went out along with it leaving you in dumbfoundment and darkness.

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @annalism @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part ten

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Ten - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.3k

"Look at that, yeah. See them big old hands coming through? Is there not a one-hundred-nothing inside that?" Or at least that’s what I think he said. It’s hard to tell over the roar of the wind whipping through the open windows, his thick accent muddling the words, and the cramped space in the backseat where Logan and I are squeezed together. My focus is elsewhere, drawn to Logan, who stares out the window with that familiar, distant expression, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He always seems to have something on his mind, and I can’t help but wonder what it is this time.

The car ride to Cassandra’s lair is pure chaos. Elektra grips the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, her eyes sharp as she navigates the treacherous terrain. The engine growls in protest as we barrel down the uneven road, jostling everyone inside. Laura, Blade, and Gambit are crammed into the backseat with us, their bodies pressed against one another, while Wade rides shotgun, his usual irreverence barely contained.

Up ahead, Johnny flies through the sky, a streak of flame cutting across the clouds as he scouts for any signs of trouble. His flames cast flickering shadows on the ground below, illuminating the path as we race toward our destination.

Deadpool breaks the tense silence, his voice cutting through the wind. “What Gambit’s trying to say is getting Juggernaut’s helmet ain’t gonna be easy. I’m just making stuff up with this.”

Blade doesn’t miss a beat. “Gun.”

Deadpool glances back, spotting the massive firearm Blade has in his hands. “Where do you get that little beauty?”

Elektra’s voice is cold and steady. “That’s the Punisher’s ’84.”

A split second later, the car jolts violently as Blade fires the gun out the window. The force of the shot nearly deafens me, and I flinch as the blast tears through the giant, skeletal hands of Ant-Man, shredding them into a shower of bone fragments. The car skids to a stop, screeching to a halt within the crook of his shattered arms, which now lay lifeless and splintered around us.

We all clamber out of the car, the scent of gunpowder and burnt metal lingering in the air. As we gather ourselves, my eyes are drawn upward to the horde of mutant variants that have gathered to protect Cassandra. They stand like an army ready to defend their queen. High above, Cassandra watches from the eye of a massive skull, her silhouette dark and menacing.

Blade’s grin is feral, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Gambit cracks his knuckles, a wild gleam in his purple eyes. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Whoo, I’m about to make a name for myself here.”

Logan’s expression darkens, and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, his knuckles brushing against my elbow. I return his gaze with a sad smile.

“I don’t think you guys walk away from this,” Logan mutters, his voice low and filled with a grim certainty.

Gambit grins, unperturbed. “You just make sure people know what happened here today. When you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?”

Blade steps forward, his tone commanding. “You guys stay on our six, get inside. We’ll make sure you get the package.”

Elektra nods, her gaze steely. “Then we’ll get our ending.”

As if on cue, Johnny lands beside me, his flames flickering out as he touches down. “They’re toast,” he says with a smirk.

I cringe at his words. “You did not just say that.”

He just laughs, but the laughter is cut short as the shouting begins. The battlefield erupts into chaos, a cacophony of clashing blades and explosive gunfire. I charge into the fray, my blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. I sweep my legs over an opponent, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone as I drive my blade into their chest. The adrenaline pumps through my veins as I move with deadly grace, each strike calculated, each move precise.

A vision flashes in my mind, warning me of an enemy approaching from behind. I pivot on my heel, spinning just in time to deflect their attack and drive my blade into their heart. The battle rages on for what feels like an eternity, my body moving on instinct as I cut down one foe after another. Azrael appears before me, his eyes burning with a malevolent fire. We clash again and again, the power of our strikes sending shockwaves through the ground. But I’m faster, and after a brutal exchange, I manage to land a few hits, weakening him just enough to create an opening.

Wade, Logan, and I sprint through the chaos, slipping past the front lines and into the mouth of the skull, where Cassandra awaits. The interior of the skull is dimly lit, the air thick with the stench of decay. Cassandra reclines in a chair, her posture relaxed, a delicate cup of tea in her hand. She looks every bit the picture of calm amid the storm raging outside.

“You three escaping I could live with,” Cassandra says, her voice dripping with condescension. “But coming back, willingly. You’re so silly.”

Deadpool’s voice is strained, his usual bravado tempered by exhaustion. “I just need to get home.”

Cassandra’s smile is cold and devoid of warmth. “Well, that’s not on the menu, I’m afraid. It’s death or enslavement, a la carte, of course. Up!” With a flick of her wrist, Wade is flung into the air, his body slamming into the ceiling with a sickening crunch. He crashes to the floor, groaning in pain as Cassandra turns her gaze on me.

“I think you may be of use,” she muses, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.

Before I can react, she flicks her wrist again, sending a searing pain through my skull. I fall to my knees, clutching my head as the agony intensifies, my vision blurring to white. My mind feels like it’s being torn apart, but just as quickly as it started, the pain stops, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Stay,” Cassandra commands, and I feel my muscles lock into place, immobilizing me where I kneel. My head and neck the only thing I can move.

“It’s nice to give someone else a chance to talk,” she says, motioning towards Wade, who is still groaning in pain on the floor.

Logan’s eyes blaze with fury as he charges at her, claws extended. “Not my strong suit,” he growls.

But Cassandra is faster. With a wave of her hand, she redirects his attack, forcing him to stab his own legs. Logan collapses, blood seeping through his jeans as he gasps in pain. I flinch, unable to bear the sight, and turn away.

Cassandra circles Logan, her curiosity piqued. “You are an interesting one, aren’t you? I do feel like you get lost behind all of this,” she says, gesturing vaguely around her. “Deadpools are a dime a dozen here in The Void. But you, what’s going on in here?” She taps his forehead lightly, her fingers pressing into his skull.

Logan’s pained screams echo through the chamber as she delves into his mind. I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound, but it’s impossible. The anguish in his voice cuts through me, and I grit my teeth, fighting against the hold she has on me.

“Not what I expected back here,” Cassandra murmurs, her tone almost gentle. “You’re hiding from them, from all the ones you let down. So much pain. My little animal.”

Her words ignite a fury deep within me. Logan has spent his whole life being treated like an animal, caged and forced to fight for survival. The anger surges through me, and I struggle against the invisible bonds holding me in place.

I catch sight of Laura throwing down a bag, and Wade, now healed, slowly approaches it. My heart races as I realize what he’s about to do. I stop resisting, instead focusing on keeping Cassandra’s attention on Logan as Wade retrieves Juggernaut’s helmet. I hold my breath as he steps closer and slams the helmet onto her head, gripping her arms tightly as she screams in rage, recoiling from Logan.

Wade’s voice is a deadly whisper. “You’re gonna send us home, then I’m gonna twist your fucking head off.”

Cassandra laughs, the sound sharp and grating. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

“I can’t send you unless you get this thing off my head,” Cassandra explains, her voice dripping with malice. “And as soon as you do that, I’m going to boil your brains on an atomic level whilst flicking my bean. Either you kill me, or I kill you. Both wonderful options.”

Deadpool tightens his grip. “You want me to do it?”

Logan shakes his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

Deadpool scoffs. “I have her neck right here, it’s really no problem.”

Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, his words sharp and unyielding. “You’ll screw it up.”

Deadpool rolls his eyes, exasperation lacing his tone. “Oh, come on, Mr. PG-13, it’s the last one.” His usual bravado feels almost forced, like he’s trying to break through the thick atmosphere hanging over the group.

Suddenly, a gunshot rips through the air, loud and jarring. My heart lurches in my chest, skipping a beat as the sound reverberates around us. 

“No, no, no,” I whisper, my voice trembling with panic. The horror of what’s just happened begins to sink in.

Pyro stands there, his hand still clutching the smoking gun, his expression a mix of defiance and desperation. He’s shot Cassandra. The blood spreads quickly across her clothes, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Pyro stammers, his voice shaking as he tries to justify his actions. “Day after day, ‘shovel the shit,’ ‘fetch the meats.’ I have spent my entire exist—”

But Logan doesn’t let him finish. With a brutal efficiency, he silences Pyro with a single, powerful punch. The force of it sends Pyro crumpling to the ground, his words cut off as his body hits the floor.

Logan’s eyes are cold, almost detached, as he looks down at Pyro. “Not everyone gets a speech,” he says flatly, his tone devoid of any sympathy. “She’s gonna die.”

Deadpool, trying to diffuse the situation, steps forward, his voice taking on a slightly desperate edge. “Okay, hey, if I take this helmet off, you promise you won’t kill us?”

Cassandra, even as she bleeds out, doesn’t miss a beat. Her voice, though weaker, is still laced with that same venomous edge. “I promise I will kill her first.”

Logan’s growl is low, menacing, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. 

Deadpool throws up his hands in frustration. “Why are you like this?”

Cassandra sighs, the sound almost wistful. “I wish I knew.”

“Take it off,” Logan orders, his voice brooking no argument.

Deadpool looks at him, confused. “What?”

My eyes dart between Cassandra and Logan, anxiety gnawing at my insides. “Logan, she said she’ll kill me. I don’t like that idea.”

But Logan remains calm, his gaze steady as he meets mine. “Trust me. Take it off.”

Deadpool presses, his voice tinged with doubt. “Why?”

I take a deep breath, the tension in the air almost suffocating. After a moment, I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Take it off.”

Deadpool hesitates, his usual confidence faltering. “This is our only chance to fix our shit.”

Logan snaps, his patience fraying. “Take it off! I am wearing this suit. And that means a lot of things, but most of all, it means I’m an X-Man. I am the X-Man. And I know your brother. As much as I want to fucking kill you—every bone in my body wants to fucking kill you—he would not let me stand here and watch you die. Take your hands off. This is for him. This is for Charles.”

With deliberate movements, Logan removes the helmet, the gesture heavy with significance.

Cassandra’s expression softens, her voice losing some of its harshness. “My brother loved you.”

Logan nods, his voice quiet, filled with a deep, unspoken emotion. “He loved all of us.”

Cassandra sighs, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “Hmm. Must be nice.”

Logan’s voice is steady, filled with quiet conviction. “He would have loved you too. If he knew about you, if he knew where you were, he would have torn a hole in the fucking universe to bring you home.”

Cassandra’s smile turns bitter, her eyes darkening. “This is home.”

Logan’s gaze is intense, almost pleading. “Then at least let us save his.”

Cassandra’s eyes flicker with something almost like understanding. “You wanna hear something crazy?” she says, her tone shifting. “An amateur magician roamed through here a while back. I killed him, of course, wore his skin around for four days. But I found this little trinket on his lovely fingers.”

With a flourish, she begins to open a portal, the swirling energy forming a glowing circle.

Deadpool’s eyes widen in amazement. “Strange. Marvel’s sparkle circle.”

Logan eyes the portal warily. “What is that?”

Cassandra smirks, the glint of mischief returning to her gaze. “This is your way home. I do owe you for saving my life, but let’s keep things interesting. I’d say you have about four seconds before your life’s through.”

Wade grins. “Race you!”

Without hesitation, the three of us bolt toward the rapidly closing portal, the adrenaline surging through my veins. We leap through it just in time, the sensation of free-falling overwhelming as the portal closes behind me, leaving us to face whatever awaits on the other side.

Next Part

A/N: Boring chapter imo but i have big plans tehe

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[clockwayswrites]

A bitty bit and a poll... cw: post canon typical violence, blood, offer of smuttiness ship: Danny/Jason

“Danny.”

“Hood,” Danny said, pushing his hair back as he turned Jason’s way. His thumb ran over the shaved side of his head. A streak of blood trailed behind by the motion.

“What did they want?” Jason asked. He kicked at the side of one of the groaning thugs for emphasis as he strode over to Danny.

Danny just shrugged. “The usual.”

“Not supposed to be the usual in my territory,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, well,” Danny said with that crooked grin of his. There was something all the more feral about the grin that night between the blood and the way the harsh magenta neon that adorned the outside of Danny’s shop broke through the light rain. “I’m in that grey zone; not in one place or the other.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re my mechanic so you’re my territory.”

Danny’s grin widened and he had the audacity to wink. “Kinky.”

“What did I say about shutting up?” Jason asked as he started to look Danny over for injuries.

Danny pliantly, and almost with amusement, let Jason check him over. When Jason found a cut on the other’s arm, he huffed, tossed the bloodied tire iron Danny was holding away, and started to roll up the sleeve of the black over shirt.

“It’s fine Hood, it’s nothing,” Danny said as he peered around Jason.

Without letting go of Danny’s arm, Jason pulled out a gun and twisted enough to point it at the thug who was helping the one Jason had kicked off the ground.

“This street is off limits.”

“Ain’t Crime Alley!” the one said, spitting blood. “Old Gotham is—”

“Right over there. This street? It’s mine,” Jason said. He cocked his gun for emphasis.

“It ain’t—”

“It ain’t worth dying over! Leave it!” the other thug hissed and tried to pull them away. “If fucking Red Hood says it’s his then it’s his! Now come on.”

“Make sure you take the rest with you,” Jason ordered. He kept his gun trained on them until they were long out of sight.

“Do I still have to shut up?” Danny asked cheekily into the silence. “Because I can think of some fun ways for you to make me.”

Jason turned slowly to look at Danny. “What.”

It wasn’t exactly a question. Jason knew what Danny was implying, but what?

Danny just shrugged, still with that smile. “Can’t a man thank his knight in leather armor? I mean, totally feel free to turn me down. I’m not going to pressure someone into that sort of thing, but I figured it didn’t hurt to offer. You seem like you’re a little tense—”

As if they weren’t just in a fight.

“—and could use the release. I’m not going to pretend that I would mind being between those thighs. So what do you say, wanna let me blow you?”

Danny might as well have hit Jason with that tire iron for how his thoughts scrambled at that offer. Who the fuck did that? Danny had no reason to. Jason already made clear that Danny was under his protection. Jason had also been ramping up the amount of work he gave to Danny versus handling himself. It wasn’t like the guy needed to offer sexual favors.

Jason shook his head, as if that would clear his confusion. “Next time or something. I’ve got work.”

“Sure, wouldn’t want to keep you,” Danny said and took a step back.

“Wrap that arm.”

“What arm?”

“Danny.”

Danny laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets as he backed up into his shop. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wrap it. Go out there and take on the big bad night, hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero,” Jason called after him. “And lock your damn door!”

Danny gave a cheeky salute before disappearing into the shop.

Brat.

---

AN: NOW, you all know by now, I'm sure, that I love playing around with how balanced Danny is as a half and his hair color and things like that. This is the new idea I was whining about earlier. It's going to be about as pwp as I'm able to get and supposedly a one shot. Danny is very, very forward, Jason is very, very confused (and later very, very satisfied). So all that said...

[restinslices]

The Obsession Is Returning

Y’all may not know, but I really like On My Block and I was thinking of the show again and I started wondering smth…

how do y’all think Oscar would react if Cesar had a friend that wasn’t afraid of him? Like, if my memory is correct, the kids were spooked when he was around. Now as the show went on the kids became more comfortable around him (besides Monse. He LAUGHED in season 3 and she fr got mad but moving on) but what if Cesar had a friend who was never scared of him, almost stupidly so, and said the most outta pocket shit.

Like, you’re ranting to him during that lockdown/lock-in/the shit that happened in season one and he’s like “I do not care” and you’re like “well you can’t go anywhere so sucks to suck I guess”. Idk, maybe it’s because I’m sleepy but that shit would be funny cause why tf did you tell that man his wardrobe is ass? Yes he has a bunch of long socks, let that shit go.

And when the Santos got all hype at that party and broke the truce? Oh gosh. “The truce was gonna break anyway but really Oscar? Since we on the topic, who the fuck was the guy that proposed the idea. I got a lot a shit I gotta say to y’all”. You could probably talk a bunch of shit cause what is he gonna do? SHOOT YOU? I hope not.

Y’all would have a more unhinged relationship than him and Jamal cause at least Jamal watches his mouth (somewhat) around him. Your dumbass would- “who decided the wardrobe for this gang?” “I just feel like being around bald dudes all day is weird but idk, that’s just me” “actually sit the fuck down. Or don’t. You got a gun, I don’t” “I know nothing of the streets. I behave. You don’t.” “Why do people in gangs refuse to say ‘happy birthday’? What the fuck is a ‘happy g day’?” “Aight gang - not like THAT though”.

I feel like the friendship would be gradual cause at first he’s like “why the fuck do you keep talking to me?”. Time skip and now this nigga knows your birthday. Can I say nigga on tumblr? We gon see what happens. Y’all go from “go do anything else besides talking to me” to “you ain’t text me all day. What’s up?”. This show came out in 2018. I was 13. I am 18 now. I am still in love with this man and that’s never gonna change. We ignore season 4. He never died. Y’all imagined that shit. He’s healthy and doing great.

[pixelword]

♯┆“Save a horse! Ride a cowboy” .ᐟ ★

MASTERLIST !! PINNED POST 🎧💿

Striker x Afab!Reader <3

This is purely horny lmao

Striker chugs down the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass back down on the counter with force, making a loud thud. He licks the amber liquid off his lips and flashes you a toothy grin. “Be right back darling.”

You raise an eyebrow but say nothing, waiting for him to be out of sight before reaching for his black cowboy hat that he had taken off earlier. You always had wanted to try it on, but never had the chance to. Striker always kept it on him or nearby, practically attached to it.

You set your drink down on the counter and place the hat on your head. “Pow” you make a mock gunshot, your hand doing a finger gun and pointed outside.

“Now c’mon sugar, I don’t look like that do I?”

You jump in your stool when you hear his voice over your shoulder, but recover quickly. “Nah, I look more badass.”

He chuckles , “Yeah?” He sits back down on his stool beside you and orders another whiskey. “Ever heard of the cowboy hat rule?”

“The what now?”

He chuckles and looks at the bartender who sets a glass of whiskey down. “Do you know about the cowboy hat rule?”

The bartender glances at the both of you and chuckles. “Don’t drag me into this.” He returns to cleaning cups and attending the other customers.

You look at Striker with a look of confusion at whatever he could mean. He chuckles again and downs his shot in one go, once he swallows he decides to speak again.

“So the cowboy hat rule,” he starts, “is that if you take a cowboys hat and wear it, you gotta ride the cowboy.”

You feel your face burn at his words, your face showing your surprise. “I- What?”

“You heard me sugar” he grins, you can hear the slight rattle of his tail.

You can feel a heat settle in your stomach, making you clench your thighs. You can’t tell if the heat is from the words or from the alcohol, maybe a combination of both. He’s handsome, that much is obvious, his voice has a nice tone to it that’s made even better with his accent, and the way he carries himself is of someone with a high reputation.

“So if I ride you,” You hold in a giggle from the look of surprise that flashes on his face, “do I get to keep the hat on?”

“Do you wanna find out sugar?”

You knock back the rest of your drink and wave the bartender over to pay your tab. Striker grabs your hand and practically drags you out of the bar.

“Slow down there cowboy, we’re not even home yet.”

“Ain’t patient enough for the ride home doll.” He walks up a set of stairs on the side of the bar. Looking up you can see the sign of the bar includes the fact it’s also a motel. How convenient.

Striker pushes the door open and walks up to the counter, and imp who looks similar to the bartender down stairs mains the counter. Striker quickly gets a room, you not really paying attention to their conversation before being pulled by Striker down the hall till he opens a door, quickly pulling you in before closing the door and pushing you against it. His lips quickly meet yours, it immediately becomes a battle of dominance as you pull him in closer by his vest.

When he pulls back you try to think of something snarky to say as you pant but Striker shuts you up by pressing his lips to you. The taste of nicotine and whiskey floods your senses, a taste that was so him you weren’t surprised about it.

He sucks on your tongue and presses a knee between your legs. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, the friction making you let out a whine.

You reach up to grab something to ground yourself, your fingers finding his snow white hair and tangling with the strands. You give them a tug and he moans into your mouth, pulling away to smirk at you.

“I knew you liked it rough.” you tease.

He chuckles, “You don’t know the half of it.” He walks backwards towards the bed, pulling you along by your waist. He sits himself on the edge of the bed, grinning at you. You smile back at him and sit yourself on his lap, knees resting on the mattress on either side of him, his bulge rubs right against rubs right against your core. He reaches his hands up your shirt and squeezes your tits over your bra.

“Satan,” he groans “I should have given you the damn hat much sooner. I’d give you all the damn hats I own to see you like this everyday.”

You lean and press a kiss on the corner of his lips, “easy there cowboy,” you move your lips down to his jaw and neck, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He shivers under your touch, swallowing hard at the nips you leave over his neck. His hips thrust up when you suddenly bite and suck a dark mark, fingers digging into your hips. “E-easy now darling.”

You drag your hips back and forth on his lap slightly, his hard cock grinding on your sex through your pants. He grunts at the friction and you bite your lip to keep the sounds from leaving your mouth.

His hands travel from your hips under your shirt, pulling it up while grinding you. You remove his hat as you take your shirt off and put it on once done. He cups your face with his hands before pulling you down to kiss him again. One of his hands sneaks behind your back and unclasps your bra, you pull back from the kiss “Impressive.” You hum.

Striker moves his mouth down to kiss the top of your boobs. He’s gentle, only kissing hard enough for you to feel it. “So pretty…” he whispers.

“C’mon cowboy, do something.” You tease.

He pulls back from his affection. “Why don’t you use that mouth of yours for something more useful than ordering me around darling?” He brings his fingers to your lips, rubbing the tip of his index and middle finger on your bottom lip, slowly pushing them into your mouth. You wrap your lips around them and start sucking them on instinct. “That’s a good girl…”, he praises, “keep at it.”

He slowly kisses down your left breast, kissing around your nipple but not touching it. His mouth and tongue are hot and wet, making you squirm and grind down for more. Striker moans when you dig your hips a little too hard into his.

Finally, he closes his mouth around your nipple, making you moan around his fingers. He’s an expert, having a technique so good it has you whining around his fingers and grinding against his hard on. The friction does little to help the throbbing feeling in your core and only succeeds in making Striker harder. You finally had enough.

You pull away from his fingers, Striker looks up to you with an eyebrow raised. “Did I say you could stop?”

You place your hand on his chest and push him down on the bed so he’s laying down. “I’ve had enough of you being in charge.” You grab his jacket and pull it back to remove it. “It’s my turn now, cowboy.”

You’d never imagine that Striker would have a submissive side. Yet he surprised you by laying back and letting you do what you want.

You brought your hands under his shirt and ran them up his chest, feeling the scars before pulling his shirt off him. Once off you couldn’t help but admire the sars he had over his chest, no doubt from his job. You plant light kisses over his scars and Striker sucks in a breath.

Your hands run lower, following his white happy trail to the hem of his jeans. You remove his belt with a bit of struggle but pop open his jeans quickly once you get it out of the way. You make quick work of the zipper and prop yourself up on his knees to tug his pants off. You’re greeted by the sight of his hard cock straining against his boxers and you could almost start to drool over it.

“So worked up for me,” you sigh with a teasing tone, running your finger across the outline of his dick, applying enough pressure for him to feel it but not enough to get off.

Striker pants at your touch, especially when you start to trail your fingers across the waistband of his boxers. His hands grip the sheets of the bed as you slip a finger under the fabric and run it on the skin under. You hook another finger inside and finally tug his boxers off.

His cock springs out, hard and red with the head dripping with pre cum. It had black rings like on his tail. You grip the base snugly, giggling at the way Striker sighs and throws his head back, his tail rattling due to the pleasure.

You lick the tip, the salty sweet taste of his precum flooding your mouth. He bucks his hips forwards, trying to force more of his cock into your mouth.

You pulled back from his cock, slightly hovering over it. "Not yet, cowboy. You cum inside me or you don’t cum at all."

Striker throws his head back and groans at your words, the mere idea of stuffing you full of his cum and fucking it back into you was almost enough to make him loose it and make him cum. You tug down your pants and underwear almost too eagerly, your cunt practically dripping onto his lap. “You ready cowboy?”

“After you, darling.”

You slowly sink down his cock, your pussy so wet it slides in easily. He’s big enough to make the stretch almost painful, your walls squeezing around him. The two of you moan in tandem as you slide down his dick.

Striker grabs onto your hips, his grip tight enough to surely leave bruises in the shape of his hands. You slide down a few more inches, your eyes almost rolling back due to the pleasure, your hips flush against his once you finally bottom out. Both of you are breathless, Striker's hands twitching in anticipation.

You move up his length and back down slowly, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls was almost overwhelming. Your movements get faster and stronger the more you do, getting confident on what you’re doing.

You start to bounce on his cock, your thighs slapping against his. Your hand goes up to his hat, holding it down against your head so it wouldn’t fall off. Striker helps your movements, guiding your hips, desperate for more friction.

“Fuck,” he groans, using his grip on your hips to slam you down on him, “look so damn fine in my hat.”

You open your mouth to tease him, however you’re interrupted when he lifts his hips to slam into yours. You can feel your orgasm building quickly, heat building in your stomach. Striker keeps lifting his hips to meet your movements, sliding one of his hands from his hips down to rub your clit.

The mixed pleasure coming from both actions is enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you. Striker makes no move to slow down however, he thrust into you harder, trying to chase his orgasm.

“My sweet cowgirl,” he grunts, “cummin’ all over my cock, like a naughty slut.”

You whimper, you can feel your muscles twitching due to the overstimulation. Your hands are on his chest, holding you up so you didn’t fall face first into him. You can feel another orgasm building up already.

“Want me to cum inside you darling?” He coos, “want me to fill you up like the slut you are?”

“Y-yes!” You whine, looking down at him, digging your nails on his chest to keep yourself grounded. “Fill me up, please Striker!”

Your words send him into overdrive, an animalistic sound coming from deep down his throat. His thrusting gets faster, his hips slapping even louder against your ass with every thrust.

You squeal his name, your voice reaching a pitch you didn’t know possible. Your body twitches as your orgasm rips through you. The tightening of your walls is enough to make Striker snap. He gives one final hard thrust before spilling his cum deep inside you, the intense shockwaves of pleasure washing over you.

You feel your mind blank for a second. Striker pulls you down to lay on his chest, petting your hair as he murmurs praises in your ear, you hum to his words as you catch your breath.

When you come to, you snuggle against the crook of his neck, his cock still buried inside of you.

"So, darling, did you enjoy the ride?"

MASTERLIST !! PINNED POST 🎧💿

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 7

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Monday Night Raw

Two hours earlier

Nobody’s POV

“What do you mean I’m suspended?!” Tia screamed as the COO of WWE Paul Levesque cleared his throat.

“I didn’t stutter Tia, you’re outta control. I have given you chance after chance. Last week you almost injured Bayley, you’ve been acting irrational lately and I just think you need some time off to regroup.” Paul said sternly as Tia seemed to be becoming unglued.

“You can’t take this away from me,” Tia pleaded as Tom walked and went to stand next to Paul.

“Tia, your actions have taken this opportunity away from you,” he said as Tia began looking around in a panic.

“This is a mistake,” she whispered feeling her dreams slipping away.

“Then what is this I hear you were harassing Jey tonight?”

“What! I ain’t harassed him. We know each other on a personal level. Did Jey tell you that because if he did, he’s lying!” Tia screamed as Paul shook his head.

“No, Jey didn’t tell me, Tom did. He saw the whole thing. Jey actually tried to play off the seriousness of it but I’m not. You need to get some help Tia,” he said sternly as Tia frowned at Tom.

“Why are you in my business Tom? Look, I don’t need no help, I’m fine.”

“Tia, even after Jey told you to stay away from him you purposely followed him. You just Ignited a confrontation with your sister as he once again tried to deescalate the situation.” Tom said as Tia scoffed at him.

“So, you kept instigating it?” Paul asked as Tia refused to answer.

“Yes, she did and all with a smile on her face.”

“Tom shut up!” Tia screamed as Paul stood up and adjusted his tie.

“Nobody that works here will be sexually harassed or harassed in general. We are up from under Vince’s thumb, and everyone will be treated equally and have a safe work environment,” Paul said as Tia was seething.

“I ain’t did nothing,” Tia protested.

“Sixty days Tia and you will be on the NXT brand when you return. I really hope you can turn this around because another incident and your gone.”

“You can’t do this to me,” Tia cried as Paul sighed, walking over to try to calm her down.

“Tia, use this time to get yourself together. Actions have consequences and I can’t put my talent at risk. This time of reflection will give you and Roman a chance to work out your custody issues as well,” Paul said trying to be sympathetic.

“Yes sir,” she whispered as Paul walked out leaving her alone in her thoughts.

“I’m losing everything…It’s all her fault,” Tia cried as running out of the room bypassing people in the hall, just wanting to get her stuff and leave. Her mother’s words haunting her.

“Tia you dead wrong for what you did and you’re going to reap most of all.”

As she reached the women’s locker room her phone beeped, it was her Where’s My iPhone app. It was alerting her to Roman’s location being close by and he had been there for about an hour.

One night after one of their rendezvous while Roman took a shower, Tia linked his phone to hers to share his location but had hers turned off so he didn’t know she was keeping up with his whereabouts.

“Oh, so have me served custody papers today, then hopped on your little jet trying to tell Ms. Perfect and win her back, huh,” Tia says talking to herself plugging in the address on her phone.

“You can’t get rid of me Roman…Never.”

----

Present Time

Kara’s Condo

Kara’s POV

“Tia, put the gun down,” I pleaded as Roman looked back at me once again, but I was focused on Tia.

“Sorry to interrupt your lover’s quarrel. Wow ten total years together, five of it marital bliss came down to this because of lil old me, huh,” Tia gloated picking up our divorce papers off the table.

“Tia-”

“Kara, it’s going to be ok,” Roman said as I tried not to let my fear show but this fool was in my house pointing a gun.

“Don’t look at her Roman!” Tia screamed as Roman looked back at her.

“Get outta her Kara,” Roman said as I ran back towards the kitchen .

“Get back here or I’ll shoot him.. Do you want to be the reason Logan has no father?” Tia hissed as I stilled in fear having almost made it to the kitchen entrance.

“She ain’t got nothing to do wit this Tia, we can just leave together,” Roman pleaded.

“It has everything to do with her. Turn around bitch!” she hissed as I gritted my teeth trying to hold my tongue as I slowly turned around putting my hands in the air.

“Come on what you tryin’ to do?” Roman asked as Tia chuckled.

“What I should have did years ago…Put her out of her misery..That’ll hit you and Jey right where you stand. Take away the person you both love, it would hurt you, wouldn’t it?" Tia asked, waving the gun at Roman.

“It would, but what about us..If you hurt Kara we can’t be together, tell her Kara,” Roman said as I tried to get my brain to catch up and play along.

“I’m not with Roman, it doesn’t have to go down like this. You have so much going for you,” I said trying to reason with her as she pointed the gun at me, her hand unsteady as I jumped back.

“Aye, take it easy, look me Tia,” Roman said as she seemed to becoming more unhinged by the second.

“Paul suspended me for improper conduct against your little boyfriend for sixty days! One of the higher ups saw it and told. I’m off the main roster, now I gotta to report to NXT after my suspension is over,” she said waving the gun at me.

“What does that have to do with me? You did what you did, Jey didn’t do anything to you.”

“Everything! It has everything to do with you!” Tia screamed as I flinched. “Then this motherfucker here is pining away for you and sending flowers and shit!" She screamed picking up the vase of flowers throwing it at the wall.”

“Tia, take that up with me. You really mad at me, not Kara,” Roman said as she pointed the gun back at him.

“Oh, I was coming around to you, having me SERVED with custody papers just before I leave for work! Really Roman, trying to sue me for sole custody of a child I already gave to you, just to not pay me what you owe me,” Tia said strangely calm, her hand no longer shaking as she held the gun on Roman.

“We can talk about it Tia, just let Kara go,” Roman said as she chuckled.

“Your precious Kara…Always in the way Kara! Hell, you owe me that 50 million I asked for! I gave you something she couldn’t, the baby you always wanted!” she cried pointing the gun back at me as Roman moved in way.

“Move Roman! Let me end this!” She yelled as he refused to move.

“You’re right, Tia, you gave me Logan, our beautiful baby girl and I’m thankful,” Roman said as she nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“I did, and you know I could have loved you better than her. I want to hear her say it because she knows its true!” she cried as Roman nodded.  

“She will,” he whispered as I felt sick to my stomach. Survival was the name of the game and we both had too much to live for.

“Your right, you could have loved him better. You got pregnant and wanted to be a family with Roman, but I was in the way,” I cried as Roman looked back at me as we silently communicated with each other.

 “My own kid hates me; I feel nothing for her!” Tia cried as I took as Roman took a step closer. “Tia, you still got time to bond with her, I can help you,” he pleaded as she seemed to be letting down her defense.

“Kara, your life should have been mine. I was even willing to settle for Jey, but you just had to find out about Roman and me. Then you made Jey leave me….I ain’t got nobody,” she whimpered as a strangled sob escaped her lips.

“Tia, Kara left so we could be together, stuff just didn’t work out,” Roman whispered as she pointed the gun at his head as I screamed.

“Tia, no!!”

“You didn’t give us a chance because you wanted her, Roman! You wanted her!..... Jey wanted her!” She screamed as we stood in scared silence unsure as to what Tia was going to do next. That was until I saw out the corner of my eye the front door opening.

“Kara, I got your food, twins ran up the street to the store for your ginger ale, and some snacks,” Trin said walking in the door on her phone oblivious as to what was going on as Tia turned the gun on her.

“Trin Run!!” I yelled as Roman, and I tried to get the gun from her as  Trin panicked, quickly running back out the door, dropping everything she had in her hands.

“Help! Help us! She has a gun!” I heard her scream as we continued to tussle over the gun.

“Run Kara!” Roman yelled as I ran towards the kitchen to the back door my heart racing as I heard a shot, then silence.

As I opened the door, I heard another shot and instant pain shot through chest as I collapsed to the floor writhing in pain, gasping for air.

It hurt so bad I couldn’t catch my breath, hearing footsteps I tried to pull myself through the open back door but couldn’t move, I was in too much pain.

“Damn, you can’t even die right, can you?” I faintly heard Tia whisper as she turned me over. Her smile chilling me to the core as I silently cried in pain.

“I want to be the last thing you see,” she taunted as I coughed trying to take a deep breath, the pain unimaginable, rendering me speechless. I tried to lift up my head to look in the living room, but I couldn’t.

“Oh, you lookin’ for Roman, huh…..He’s ok, when we fell he hit his head on the end of the table and the gun went off,” She said as I groaned in pain.

“I should have shot him though, all he had to do was love me. You caused this!” she screamed sitting on my chest as I tried to push her off.

“T- T-Tia,” I gasped as she turned my head mushing it against the floor as I cried in relief seeing the knife I had earlier on the floor.

Using the last of my strength, push her off of me, crawling to the knife and laying on it, praying she hadn’t seen it.

“Now is that anyway to treat your sister? You’re supposed to be your sister’s keeper, remember Kara? Remember how we use to say that when we were kids?” she asked kneeling beside me caressing my hair as groaned in agonizing pain.

T-Tia I groaned as she shushed me.

“We even started back saying it to each other when you found out I was pregnant with Logan. Remember how close we had got,” she said as I struggled to breathe through the pain as she grabbed my face, making me look at her. “Do you?!” She shouted.

“Yes,” I finally whispered as she smiled. “Well, now I want you to tell me again. Are you still your sister’s keeper Kara?” Tia asked as I cried out in pain as she pushed down on my back.

“I asked you a question! Are you still your sister’s keeper?!” Tia screamed, turning me over as I held a firm grip on the knife.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, I reached up and stabbed her in the stomach with what little strength I had left.

“Kara,” Tia gasped in disbelief holding the knife lodged in her stomach, looking down at the blood seeping through her shirt and then back at me.

“I’m not… My sister’s….. Keeper,” I whimpered as she smiled pulling the knife out of her stomach and dropping it on the floor beside us gasping in pain.

 “Neither…. Am I,” she groaned, collapsing beside me as I finally gave in welcoming the darkness as I faintly heard Tia moaning beside me in pain.

----

Jey’s POV

“We got to hurry up I got a bad feeling Uce. Kara an Trin ain’t answering their phones,” I said we headed back in the swank gated community. As soon as we pulled in I heard sirens and saw an ambulance. Quickly, I pulled over as they flew past us.

“You right, something wrong, follow them,” Jimmy said as I tried to catch up to the ambulance. My heart dropping to my stomach as we turned down Kara’s street and saw the EMTs rushing inside her house.

“Aye, that’s Trin,” Jimmy said as I sped up seeing she was talking to a cop and was hysterical.

As I slammed on breaks behind the Ambulance, Jimmy hopped out of car running to Trin as I put the car in park.

“Trin what happened?” Jimmy asked as she ran into his arms.

“Tia had a gun! She almost shot me; I heard two shots! She killed Kara and Roman! They saved me and she killed them!” Trin cried hysterically as Jimmy took her in his arms trying to calm her down as I ran past them going inside.

“You can’t go in there the cop!” yelled as I ignored him. Nothing was going to stop me from getting to Kara.  In the living room, I saw one of the parametics working on Roman.

He was sitting on the floor as the paramedic tried to stop the bleeding from his head. Wait where did the other one go? Where’s Kara?

“John! I need some help in here! Dispatch, I got a female with a gunshot wound to the chest, the bullet seems to have gone straight through and another female with a stab wound to the abdomen. My gunshot victim isn’t breathing! We need more units and police backup!” he yelled.

“It’s not Kara…. It’s not Kara,” I whispered over and over slowly waking, past Roman not even caring what he was trying to tell me.

As I walked into the kitchen the air left my body as my worst fear had been confirmed seeing the paramedic performing CPR on Kara’s lifeless body.

“Kara,” I said in shock, walking closer to be sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

“Baby,” I whispered kneeling beside her as the other paramedic that was working on Roman, rushed in and began working on Tia.

I glanced at her as she smiled grunting in pain.

“She’s dead Jey,” she rasped as I looked back at Kara in disbelief.

“Look, if you going to be in here, I need your help,” the paramedic said as I nodded. “W-whatever you need,” I said has he guided my hand to Kara’s chest. “She’s losing a lot of blood I need to you apply pressure here with this towel,” he said as I followed his directions.

“What’s her name?” he asked as I tried to wrap my head around the fact Tia shot Kara, I almost didn’t hear him.

“Kara..Her names Kara ,please help her,” I whispered as he stopped compressions.

“Come on Kara, I need you to breathe for me, ok?” he encouraged tilting her head back and blowing air into her mouth.

“Please breathe baby, we just getting started now. Come on breath Kara,” I cried not knowing if I was coming or going as I faintly heard the other paramedic talking to Tia.

“She’s dead right?” Tia gasped as I growled in frustration and anger.

“She ain’t dead! But you keep talkin’, you will be!” I hissed as she finally stopped talking. A few seconds later I heard the wheels on the gurney leaving the room.

“Yes, get her the fuck outta her before I kill her myself.”

“Kara breath,” I heard Roman whisper as I refused to look at him, focusing on Kara.

This ain’t it, I refuse to believe that. She’s gon’ be ok….

“Kara, come on breathe, we gotta a date remember. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go baby, just breath,” I sniffed refusing to wipe my own tears knowing I would have to stop putting pressure on her wound.

I panicked even more as I the paramedic pulled out an AED machine and  began putting patches on Kara.

“When I say clear I need you to move, I’m going to try to jumpstart her heart…. 1, 2,3, Clear!” he shouted as I moved my hand and Kara’s chest lifted up in the air before becoming still again.

It was like I was watching myself outside my body as he began to count down again.

“Clear!” He shouted once again trying to shock Kara heart into rhythm but this time as I placed my hand back on her chest, I felt it rise and fall under my hand.

“I got her back! He yelled as released the breath I was holding leaning down kissing Kara on the temple

“Kara, its Josh…I love you so much…You hear me I’m here and I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” I reassured her before the other unit of paramedics came rushing in.

 I moved out of the way to let them work. but still stood where I could see her. Everything was moving so fast after that point as I watched them get her stabilized and on the gurney.

“Dispatch, Let the hospital know we’re on the way, we need all hands-on deck. We should be your way in about seven minutes.”

“Calling now unit 7, have a safe ride.”

“I’m coming wit her,” I said as the paramedic nodded in understanding as we made our way through the living room.

“Jey, is she ok?” Roman asked as I looked at him like he was stupid as another a paramedic was helping him on a gurney.

“What do you think?! That crazy bitch shot her in the chest, and it’s all your fault because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants,” I said not sparing him a glance following the Paramedics out with Kara.

“Jey, I’m sorry!” Roman yelled as I tuned him out.

All that mattered right now was Kara…I couldn’t lose her..Not now.

“Oh, my God Kara!” Trin screamed running over as they loaded Kara in the ambulance. “Take the car I left the keys in it,” I said watching them secure Kara in the back of the ambulance

“We right behind ya’ll Uce,” Jimmy said as I nodded hoping in the back of the ambulance holding Kara’s hand. “Aye, it’s me don’t check out on me yet, you hear me,” I whispered kissing her gently on the forehead as the paramedics continued to work.

The sirens wailing as we sped through traffic has me on edge. She had to be ok.. Looking out the back window I saw Jimmy speeding to keep up with us. Is all this really happening?

“You’re going to see a doctor and some nurses. They are going to take her straight to the OR and you won’t be able to go back with her but they will put you in a room in the ER until we know if she’s going to a regular room or ICU.”

“A’ight, they bout to take you for a minute Kara, but I’mma be right there when they bring you back to your room,” I reassured her as I felt her squeeze my hand as I cried in relief.

“Yea, let me know you hear me beautiful. I love you so much.”

Once we pulled up to the hospital everything moved so fast as the nurses and doctors met us at the ambulance. I felt helpless as they took Kara and rushed inside.

One of the nurses was nice enough to walk me to a room. I looked down at my white shirt and my hands stained with Kara’s blood and felt myself losing it. Going in the bathroom to the sink I  scrubbed my hands.

The sight of her blood washing down the drain is something I will never forget.

“Jey,are you in here. we’re here,” Trin said as I came out the bathroom and sat down as she Kneeled in front of me. It seemed like everything was catching up to me.

“She died on me, Trin,” I whispered as Trin looked at me in shock.

“What?”

“At the house… Her heart stopped.”

“Jey,” Trin whispered pulling me in her arms as I growled in frustration.  “Tia was laughin' sayin' she was dead,Trin” I whispered still in disbelief as Jimmy sat beside me and wrapped his arm around us both.

“But they got her back, we gotta focus on that,” he said as I looked up and Roman being wheeled into the room across the hall.

“Kara is fighting for her life and this motherfucker just got a bloody head. Now, I gotta call Kara’s mom-”

“They sent a unit to notify them, her parents know and are on the way.” Jimmy said as Trin wiped my tears.

“I’ll go see if there’s any updates,” Trin said as I nodded, letting her go as she got up and left.

“She says Roman and Kara saved her life,” Jimmy said as I nodded watching her go into Roman’s room.

“I know, I just can’t right think about all that right now.”

“We ain’t gotta say nothin’ Uce, just let me us be here for you,” Jimmy said as we sat in silence waiting for word on Kara.

---

Roman’s POV

“Mr. Reigns we want to keep you a couple days for observation, you have a concussion and I’m going to go put in the orders for a local you’re going to need stitches.”

“What about my wife Kara, she was brought in along with her sister.”

“Mr. reigns your wife is in surgery, and they are doing everything they can.”

“Ex wife-” Trin corrected as I sighed laying back on the bed.

“Trin, I know that…. Look are you ok? I asked as she nodded her head as the nurse left us alone.

“Yea, I’m ok..I just wanted to make sure you are ok and to tell you thank you. You and Kara saved my life.”

“You’re my family Trin, you know I love you.”

“I love you too. I called your mom, and she should be calling you in a bit. I had to calm her down, she was under the impression you went out to maybe clear your head after receiving the divorce papers but you all the way out here in Boston..Why?” she asked as I sighed.

“Trin it’s like I’m losing my mind, I saw Kara on Jey’s Instagram live and just went nuts. Next thing I know, I’m on my jet here trying to find out if they are in a relationship or not. The longer I looked around the house-”

“Looked around the house? I highly doub-” She started the words dying on her lips as she saw me drop my head in shame.

“Trin-”

“You were in the house when she got there!” Trin yelled as I rubbed my temples, knowing how bad it sounded.

“Trin, I was just going to talk to her, then I saw Jey’s shit in her room-”

“Roman, don’t even talk no more you pissin’ me off because you had no right doin’ no shit like that. Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?” Trin asked looking at me in pure disappointment.

“I know it’s insane Trin, but I just love her. We argued, she told me to leave and as I went to open the door there’s Tia standing there with a gun.”

“How the fuck did she know where Kara lived, did you tell her? Did you set this shit up so you could get custody of logan?” Trin asked firing off questions that really hurt me that she would think I would do something like that to Kara.

“No! She had my location; some shit she did to my phone apparently when I wasn’t around. She’s lost her mind Trin,” I said still not truly believing what had happened tonight.

“And so have you breaking into people’s homes and waiting for them in their bedroom,” she countered with her arms crossed as I sighed, knowing she was right.

“You right, I had lost my mind, but I damn sure found it when I opened that door and saw Tia with that gun.”

“Roman do you love Kara?” Trin asked as I felt offended by the question. Did she not see me earlier staring down the barrel of a gun to protect Kara?

“What kind of question is that. I would die for Kara, of course I love her. I just jumped at a gun to protect you because I love you too, I love all ya’ll,” I said as Trin nodded, seemingly in deep.

“We love you too, in spite of everything you’re going to always be family but in order for us all to begin healing… Like really heal…..You gotta make it right, and let it go Roman,” Trin pleaded as I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

“I know,” I whispered overwhelmed because I knew she wasn’t saying it to hurt me, it was coming from a place of love.

I didn’t think I had that anymore from her or anyone in my family besides my mom, but guess I was wrong.

“If you love her…..Like truly love Kara like you say you do. Prove it… Let her go and let her be happy, so we can all move past this and try to be some kind of a family again,” Trin cried walking out of the room without another word.

I needed to let go but I don’t know how….But Trin was right, if I loved her, I needed to prove it.

“God, if you bring Kara through this…..I’ll do right…I’ll make it right, I swear,” I silently prayed as I felt the world on my shoulder because deep down I knew Jey was right.

I set this all in motion…Everything that happened was my fault.

----

Trin’s POV

Talking to Roman sucked the life out of me but I knew after what Jey had said earlier, I knew I needed to see one other person to see.

 “Excuse me, is Tia Morris able to have visitors I’m her cousin,” I said as the nurse smiled. “Uh, for the moment, but the police are on the way to question her. I can let you see her though, she’s in room 11,” she said leading me to the dim light room.  I frowned quickly seeing Tia sleeping but played it off by smiling at the nurse as I saw her head over to wake up Tia.

“Oh, I’m just going to sit with her. You don’t have to wake her up. I know the cops are going to keep her busy with their questions,” I said as the nurse patted me on the shoulder. “Ok, I’ll leave you to it sweetie,” she whispered walking out and closing the door.

Walking over to the door behind her, I closed the curtain before slowly walking over to her bed as Tia slept.

This bitch in her sleeping peacefully and Kara’s in surgery fighting for her life.

Reaching above her head I got a pillow. Now I wasn’t gonna kill her, but she damn sure was going to feel the struggle to breathe like Kara did.

“Tia,” I whispered, as she moaned turning her head as I pushed the pillow over her face as she tried to push away.

 Hearing the machine beeping fast, I pulled the pillow away as she gasped for air, the machine’s beeping returning to normal.

“What are you doing?” Tia coughed as I put the pillow over her face again as she helplessly tried to push against the pillow again, this time I released the pillow before the machine started beeping faster.

“You’re crazy,” Tia cried as I looked at her with disgust.

“I’m glad you realize that…..But I ain’t gon’ kill you…I just want you to feel how Kara felt as she laid lifeless on the ground beside you while you laughed,” I said remember Jey’s words, which made me even more angry.

Hysterical Trin was long gone now.

Grabbing her by the throat, I got in her face to make sure she heard me loud and clear.

“If you come near Kara, Jey, Jimmy, Logan or Roman again I will kill you. See you batshit crazy but you ain’t met real crazy yet, and I promise this ain’t what you want. I don’t take kindly when people fuck with my family,” I said calmly as Tia moaned in pain.

“Kara’s not your family,” she gasped as I slapped her before I could stop myself. I wanted to beat her ass, but I knew I couldn’t leave marks to give away what I had been doing in here.

Pushing her head against the pillow, I leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“You ain’t got a sister no more…She’s my sister, always have been. You don’t deserve her love or loyalty, or to even be in her presence,” I hissed as she groaned in pain as I pushed down on her stomach slightly, knowing it was causing her unimaginable pain.

“Trin, please.” Taa cried as I ignored her pleas.

“Trin please what? You want me to show you mercy? Did you show Kara mercy when you shot her, huh?” I whispered as she cried.

-----

Jey’s POV

“Uce, something ain’t right,” Jimmy said as I nodded in agreement.

“Yea, Trin been gone a minute.”

“I know she ducked out to see Roman, she had promised auntie she would look out for him, and for her just take care of Logan.”

“Let’s go see if she’s still across the way.” As we walked in and saw the room empty. We went to the nurse’s station.

“Excuse us, our cousin was in the room over there and he’s not there, is he ok?” Jimmy asked as the nurse smiled.

“Oh, he’s been transferred upstairs to a room, they are keeping him a few days,” she said as it dawned on me.

“Fuck,” I whispered as Jimmy looked at me.

“What?”

“Tia,” I whispered as Jimmy’s eyes bout popped out of his head in realization.

“Um, have you seen this woman,” I asked as Jimmy’s phone showed the nurse his screen saver.

“Sure, a real sweetie, said she wanted to see her cousin. I took her to room 11.”

“Um, thank you, we’ll just drop in for a second to see her too,” I said as Jimmy, and I tried to play it cool leaving the nurses station, but as soon as we hit the corner, we took off running towards Tia’s room.

Seeing the curtain closed, we rushed in and there was Trin sitting on the edge of the bed whispering something to Tia as she quietly sobbed.

“Trin let’s go baby, we been looking for you,” Jimmy said as Trin got up off the bed.

“They going to put you under the jail and if they don’t and you fake your way outta this….Just remember what I said Tia, and just know I don’t miss,” Trin said before walking past Jimmy and me.

“None of us were never here,” I said, as Tia nodded, wiping her tears as Jimmy and I left. As we rounded the hall, I saw two cops heading towards Tia’s room.

“Good, put her ass in jail,” I muttered going back into the room with Jimmy and Trin to wait to hear about Kara.

----

Five Hours Later

Jey’s POV

Trin and Jimmy had fallen asleep on the couch, but I still was wide awake. I couldn’t sleep until I knew how Kara was doing, the little updates from the nurses weren’t easing my fears at all.

 Deciding to stretch my feet I walked into the hallway and was met by the doctor.

“Mr. Fatu we just got done about thirty minutes ago,” he said as I took in his appearance, he seemed worried. “Hey, how is she?” I asked almost afraid of the answer.

“She made it through surgery, but the next 72 hours are critical. We were able to stop the bleeding and get the rest of the bullet fragments out.”

“Thank God.”

“She’s a fighter, it was touch and go for a while but she made it through,” he said with a tired smile.

“Thank you so much for everything…..When can I see her?”

“You can see her now; they just took her to ICU. She’s very lucky, half an inch to the right it would have been fatal,” he said as I felt the tears coming. I could have lost her…

“Uh, let me get up my family so we can head dat way,” I whispered walking back to the room to wake up Jimmy and Trin.

The long walk and elevator ride quiet, as we made our way up to ICU floor. As we waited for them to buzz us in Trin reached over and gave me a hug.

“You go in first Jey… Just tell her we love her,” Trin said as I sighed truly thankful for her.

She acted fast, called 911 and got Kara help.

“I will sis, and thank you,” I whispered as she nodded. “No, tell Kara thank you for saving my life,” she whimpered as I rubbed her back.

“I’m going to let you tell her for yourself,” I said as she smiled at me wiping her tears before going to sit with Jimmy.

Walking through the hall I felt anxious I needed to see her. The first room I saw had a cop sitting on the outside of it with the door open.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I looked over and there was Tia asleep handcuffed to a bed.

“Kara’s room is over here, Mr. Fatu,” the doctor said beckoning me further down the hall.

I hated she had to be on the same floor as Tia but at least it was some space between them, but I didn’t want to take that chance.

“Doc, I know she’s not stable but after her parents get here and she becomes stable can she be transferred out to another hospital. The person that attacked her is in here and I don’t feel comfortable.”

“I’m one step ahead of you. Her sister will be transferred when she is stable enough. Until then she will have an officer on her at all times and will be handcuffed to the bed,” he said still not putting me at ease.

I didn’t want Kara anywhere near that crazy nut.

Walking in her room I wasn’t prepared to see her lying in that bed looking so helpless. I went to sit by her trying to be mindful of the wires taking her hand in mine.

“I’m back beautiful, just like I promised. Now about this date, where you wanna go,” I whispered kissing her hand praying she would open her eyes and talk to me.

No response, sighing I reached over and kissed her temple. “That’s ok we can talk later, just rest,” I whispered sitting back down in my chair laying my head on the bed just looking at her.  watching the rise and fall of her chest, just thankful she had made it through the surgery. A sudden moan from Kara almost startled me.

“Kara, you ok baby?” I asked as she whispered something, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying as she eyes fluttered open, then closed back again.

“Balcony picnic date,” she whispered a little louder as I laughed.

“Kara, of all the places I can take you and you want to have a picnic on my balcony in Pensacola.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” she whispered opening her eyes to look at me as I kissed her hand.

“You can have anything you want loʻu loto,” I said as she gave me tired smiled, still having a hard time trying to keep her eyes open.

“Get some rest, I ain’t going nowhere, we can talk when you get up.”

“I have to tell you something first,” she said as I pulled the covers up a little trying to help her get as comfortable as she could considering the hell she had just been through.

“Ok….What you gotta tell me that can’t wait beautiful?” I asked sitting back in my chair just happy she was awake and was talking to me.

“I love too, Josh,” she whispered before closing her eyes and drifting off back to sleep as I finally allowed the tears to pour from my eyes.

“I love you more.”

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[viridescent-din]

Hope

Joel x reader. Smut, 18+ only Fingering, age gap.

~

There’s no hope for you.

You don’t take it personally. There’s no hope for anyone anymore. But it still stings, knowing it will probably never get better. Knowing that in spite of everything, even though you and everyone else that’s left has been given the worst hand fate could have dealt, you can’t ever have what you want. What’s right in front of you. 

Joel, leaving you for weeks on end to smuggle God knows what. Angry when you come, angry when you don’t. Short tempered and mean, hurting under all those layers of pain and experience and grime. When you met Joel, you promised yourself you would dig into him, make your way through those layers and burrow under them. Warm him from the inside out. You wanted to know him.

Now you do, and it hurts more than ever. It’s a nicer pain than feeling nothing at all, but it’s still heavy. The lingering glances Joel gives you make you feel truly alive, but they make you ache too. The wandering eyes, the brushes of his arm, the death grip he holds you in on the runs when you stumble across infected. You know Joel well enough to understand they mean something. To you and him. He doesn’t touch other people like that. He doesn’t care for them. Protect them. 

If he’s felt the way he does for you this long and hasn’t done anything about it, he’s never going to.

It’s possible that Joel doesn’t want to make the first move - doesn’t want to be the one that really changes the comfortable (almost, almost domestic) closeness you two have. There’s lots of reasons he wouldn’t: he’s older than you, for one. There’s also FEDRA and the Fireflies and anyone else who keeps an eye on Joel, looking for a weakness. The lack of confirmation between the two of you as to just what you are bleeds over to anyone who watches you interact. If something changes, if Joel really admits this is real, it won’t stay between the two of you no matter how much he might try. They’ll notice. Joel can’t afford to lose anyone else. 

It’s hopeless, you and Joel. So you try not to think about it, and you never, ever push him. 

-

Joel can’t take this much longer. Can’t take you. 

It’s killing him. Everything is: his job, his age, his sorrow. Everything is wearing Joel down, making him drag his feet and look for the nearest somewhat safe spot so he can collapse and finally rest. For just one fucking minute. 

He only feels rested when he’s with you. And Joel hates himself for that. Hates putting that amount of responsibility on you - to burden you with him. You’ve never asked for that. 

Of course, you’ve never asked because you’re scared that if you do, Joel will leave. He doesn’t blame you. He’s not entirely sure that he wouldn’t.

You’re so good. It blinds him sometimes, your goodness. Sometimes it’s like the sun, shining down on Joel as he overlooks the ruins of whatever given city he’s in. But sometimes it’s like the light on the soldier’s gun twenty years ago, forcing Joel to realize everything he holds dear is devastatingly fragile. 

If Joel let you give yourself to him the way he knows you want to, all he would do is take. He would envelope you, trap you in his chest. He’s cold and gruff and he would expect you to just deal with it. More than you already do. 

~

“Should be an easy run,” you finish telling Joel late one night. You try not to notice how nice he looks in red, even if the shirt he’s wearing is dusty and beat up. “I’ll be back before morning.”

“I’m coming with you.” Joel responds gruffly. You purse your lips.

“I know you had something planned with Tess,” you say. “It’s just the mall. I’m not even leaving the QZ.”

“It’s boarded up for a reason.”

“I trust the people that say it’s safe -”

“Tess can handle herself. Ain’t no thing for me to go with you.” You still.

You don’t mean to be upset with Joel, but stings anyway, the lack of faith he has in you. It’s times like this that make you feel young. Stupid and incapable. 

Needy.

“Tess can leave the QZ on her own but I can’t even make a quick trip to the mall?” You manage to keep the accusation out of your tone, but it’s still implied. Joel knows. 

“Hey,” he says, short. “That’s not what I’m sayin’.” You swallow.

“I know, Joel, I just -”

“Tess has experience. She’s been doing this shit practically since it all started.” You nod as you look away, nails digging into your palms as you clench them. Your heart jumps when you feel Joel take your hand, prying it open. “Quit doin’ that.” He murmurs. Joel’s hand is warm, spreading waves of heat throughout your body. You unclench your fist, and Joel rubs his thumb over the lines of barely broken skin. “It’s different with you,” he says, barely audible. “You know it is.”

For a second, you think this is it. The walls are coming down, and Joel is admitting. Confessing, even. You look at him, eyes wide and hopeful. 

He drops your hand and walks away. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow night. Be ready.” He says. The door slams shut behind him. 

~

“What are we even here for?” Joel only thinks to ask once you’ve led him into some sort of breaker room. You shine your flashlight at all the light switches and levers, looking for the right one. Joel frowns at himself. He should have pressed you for more information about this. It’s not like him to… not. “If I’m just here to take you shopping, we can leave now.”

“Yeah, Joel, you’re here to take me shopping. Prom is right around the corner.” You say. Smart ass, Joel thinks. He lets himself smile while you aren’t looking.

“Think you’re a little old for that.” Joel shines his own flashlight overheard, looking at all the decay. Water drips onto his face, and he wipes it off. 

“I’m not that much older, you know. I am twenty f-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Joel stops you. You grin at him before lifting a lever. Machinery whirrs around you both, and the lights slowly flicker on.

“Whatever you say, old man.” Joel rolls his eyes, but secretly, he’s relieved to have you teasing him again. Joel doesn’t like how he left your place last night, how real it felt. How for a moment, he was the cause of the hurt that flickered over your face. “This way.” You tell him, leading him down the maintenance hallway and into the actual mall. 

Even Joel can’t help but marvel at it, even in ruin. It’s massive, and all the stores are reminding him of brands he had forgotten existed. His chest clenches at the sight of some of them, the models that would have Sarah’s age.

The last time he went to a mall was with her. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, eyes wandering. “Look how big it is, Joel! Everything is -”

“Are we gonna be here all night?” Joel demands, suddenly gruff and impatient. Your face falls. “Let’s get what you want and leave, alright?”

“Right,” you say, excitement gone. “It’s um - I just remember my mom going to the mall whenever one of us got sick. I know there’s… there are like, pharmacies or whatever. I thought it would be good to stock up on medicine.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, angry at himself for taking his shit out on you. It’s not your fault he insisted on coming. 

It’s a good plan, too. Joel is surprised he or Tess didn’t think of it. 

“That’s good. Smart.” He tells you, trying to ease the tension. “Do you remember how to find your way around a mall?” You shake your head. “It’s called a directory. It’s a map, usually on the first floor.” Joel spots an escalator a few feet in front of you. “Let’s go look at one, yeah? Better than wandering around the entire night.”

“Okay.” You agree. “Lead the way.”

~

The pharmacy is on the second floor, so you and Joel head back the way you came after looking at the directory. You start rambling about how there might not even be anything, how a mall probably doesn’t have as much as a CVS or a Walgreens. Joel stops you. 

“Even one bottle of antibiotics is better than none,” he tells you. “This was smart. Good job.” You give Joel a small smile. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

The pharmacy turns out to be well stocked - you and Joel jump over the counter and find practically everything full. Joel watches you look at the labels of everything a few times before you take to dumping things in your backpack. Joel is more careful, on the lookout for penicillin and any other helpful meds he can remember. He falters when he grabs one prescription and reads it: cryselle, low ogestrel. Birth control. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Joel glances at you.

“You ready?” You ask. You’re standing on the counter, looking down. Joel shoves the pills in pocket. 

“Yeah,” he says, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s -” Joel doesn’t even hear the growling until it’s too late, until a rotted hand grabs your ankle and pulls, the crack of your ribs on the counter bouncing off the walls and the look of surprise on your face permanently searing itself onto Joel’s brain. 

~

“Joel!” You scream, the infected chomping at you, practically ripping the skin of its neck to reach you. Bite you. You let out another scream, one pure terror and pain. Your torso is throbbing, a blinding pain that’s making it harder and harder to keep the infected off you. You thrash, kicking its legs in an attempt to get it off, but you only make its knees collapse so its weight falls on you even more. You let out a frustrated sob. 

This is it, you think to yourself. Even if I get out of this, Joel is never letting me do a run again. Your arms start to weaken at the thought, subconsciously giving in. 

The shot fires so close to you it makes your ears ring. The infected stops growling, slumping on top of you. You push it off, dazed. 

Joel is on you in an instant, hands running over every inch of bare skin you have. Hands, wrists. Neck. He hooks his fingers under your chin and forces you to look at him, distress written all over his face. You cough, wincing as it rattles your ribs. 

“Good,” you manage. “I’m clean.” Joel sags with relief, his forehead pressed against yours. He smells scared, stressed and acrid. You close your eyes and breathe it in. 

“C’mon,” Joel says, standing. “There could be more. There’s always more.”

~

He takes you to his apartment. His, not yours. You drop your bags at the door, kicking off your shoes. Joel leads you to his bedroom, and you sit on his sheets, wincing. When you pull up your shirt, your skin is raised and bruised. You tug it back down. 

“Does it feel like a clean break?” Joel asks. You shrug, not knowing what he expects you to say. He leaves, coming back with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. “Ibuprofen.” He explains. “Nothing fancy for a few broken bones.” You thank him. 

“Should we wrap it?” You ask. 

“Don’t know. Might make sleeping on ‘em the first night easier.” Joel watches you. “Can I see?”

You swallow as Joel stands over you. Slowly, you lift your shirt.

To Joel’s credit, he doesn’t freak out. It dawns on you that he might be thinking you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You don’t know what Joel’s life was like before you were in it, but you know it was worse than a few cracked bones. Embarrassment creeps up your face. 

“It’s nothing.” You dismiss it. Joel nods. 

“Nothing.” He agrees. He doesn’t sound convincing, though. 

~

It’s not even that bad. Joel knows that.

He watches people die every day. He’s seen the worst of death and then some. He’s seen people stumble into the QZ holding their innards in their hands. He’s watched people rip their tongues out as the virus infects them, trying to rid themselves of the spores they can feel invading their bodies.

You have a few cracked ribs. You’re strong. You can handle it. 

But the thing is, Joel can’t. He’s worn down, he’s exhausted and scared he just can’t keep himself from caring so much. 

He’s making this a bigger deal than it is. Joel thinks you feel the same - you’re waving him off, saying you’re fine. Saying it’s nothing. The wound is, sure. But the terror Joel felt when he saw you disappear behind the counter in less than a second? That isn’t nothing. It’s everything. You’re everything.

“You wanna stay here for the night?” Joel asks you. Splashes of black and blue spread over your torso, painting your skin. It makes Joel feel sick. He shouldn’t have let this happen. 

“Yeah,” you say. “If it’s okay.” Joel shrugs in response, hunching his shoulders to ward his paranoia away. You give him a small smile, tugging your shirt down. Joel turns around, walking over to the small dresser near the door and digging out one of his flannels. He knows you like them, and you know Joel likes seeing you in them just as much. He tosses it to you on the bed. You catch it smoothly, laying it next to you. Joel faces the wall, letting you change your shirt. 

And then he hears it. 

It’s a small noise that you make. It probably isn’t even one of pain, you’ve been through worse than this, it’s just a hiss of discomfort as you raise your arms above your head to take your shirt off. 

And Joel is rushing towards you, brow furrowed, hands outstretched and mind telling him no, no, no, just like it has for years. 

Joel’s been silently telling himself no to you since he met you. He’s older now. 

He can’t bring himself to listen anymore. 

Joel kneels in front of you, grunting as his knees protest. Your eyes are wide, and you’ve frozen. Your hands are gripping the hem of your shirt, holding it just above your navel. You watch as Joel’s eyes flick towards the bareness of your stomach, and even though he just saw it so he could look at your ribs, Joel can tell you know he’s looking in a different way now. He swallows, leaning forward.

“Let me help you, baby.” Joel says. You draw in a breath.

“Are you sure?” You whisper. You know what this means, what Joel’s thinly veiled statement implies. Joel returns your gaze. 

Joel reaches forward, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it carefully over your head. A small ‘good job’ tumbles off his lips when you raise your arms without making another sound of discomfort again, and Joel sees what his praise does to you. 

He leans back on his heels, looking at you sitting with your breasts exposed on his bed, bones cracked and in need of repair. He watches you wait for him to really promise something, to show you that this is finally happening. 

You’ve been so patient. Joel can’t make you wait any longer.

-

“Joel,” Joel’s name comes out a gasp as he lays you down, 

Joel props himself on the wall, sitting on the pillows. He pulls your back against his chest, arm over your collarbone while his other hand dangles between your legs. He massages your thighs and your eyes slide shut. You grip his forearm, nails biting into his skin. 

When Joel’s fingers have finally worked their way up and are tracing your slick entrance, you whimper. 

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” Joel licks the shell of your ear as he murmurs, and you feel so safe. He’s capable and willing and wanting, you can feel his hardness against the small of your back. 

If it were anyone else, this would feel sudden. But it’s Joel. You’ve been waiting so long. You’d be lying if you said you understood why it was now that he finally decided to do something, but you don’t care. You don’t care why this brush with death was the one that made the walls come down. You just care that it did. 

Joel kisses your neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle of where your shoulder meets your neck, and you gasp, keening against him. 

Teeth marks on your shoulder. Bruises on your hips. Joel is trying to make up for the fact you’re battered from today’s supply run. You’re about to say something about it when his fingertip pushes into your cunt. Your mouth drops open, and you moan so loud you almost slap your hand over your mouth instinctively. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you hear Joel say as he slides his finger further in. Your thighs tremble, and Joel stills. “Hey,” Joel says your name, serious. “How long has it been?” He asks in a whisper. He runs his thumb up painfully slow over your clit, the same way you would to someone’s back or shoulder if you were trying to comfort them. It makes your head spin. “I gotta know how slow you need it.” He explains. You open your eyes, and Joel is staring at you. 

“I,” you feel your cheeks burn. “I haven’t ever…” excuses build on your tongue before you even finish your sentence. I haven’t had time. I was the only survivor I knew of for years. I was only a kid when this all started. I can’t trust anyone around here. I’m younger than you. You don’t say any of them. You can’t bring yourself to. 

“Oh, baby -”

“Please don’t stop,” you plead. Joel doesn’t move, his finger still inside you, gaze piercing. “Please, Joel. It’s not - it doesn’t have to be a big deal. I need this.” You can’t reach Joel’s lips from here, not with the way he’s holding you, so you drop your head and drag your lips across his forearms instead. “I need you.”

Joel closes his eyes, screwing them shut like he’s upset. But when he opens them, there’s no trace of anger. Just affection. 

“I’m not gonna stop,” he promises you. You nod, relieved. “I’m taking care of you, darlin.’”

When Joel pushes another thick finger inside you to prove his point, he chases away any doubt you had remaining. 

-

“I’m not going to use my cock on you tonight,” Joel tells you after what feels like hours of him working you open.Your disappointment is obvious. Insecurity begins to set in on you, but Joel won’t let it. “Not tonight,” he repeats. “Another time.” It takes a second for you to believe him, but eventually you murmur a quick ‘okay.’ “For now, I want you to finish with my fingers. Think you can do that for me, baby?” You nod, and Joel rewards you by curling his finger. “Good girl,” he says, and you clench around him. Joel smirks, amused, and rubs the thumb he has on your shoulder up and down soothingly. “Relax,” he tells you. “I’ve got you. Let me in.”

You try to wrap your head around the fact that this is happening, that after years of pining after Joel, he’s finally here. He’s sturdy and strong and present - you can feel all of him, his heartbeat against your back, his breath on your neck, his fingers so deep it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. His smell grounds you, filling your senses. You’re so full, so full of Joel. You have been for a long time now. 

You take a deep breath, letting yourself inhale Joel’s scent. Your exhale is shakier as Joel presses in deeper. Your gaze flickers down to where his fingers disappear, and you whimper at the sight. You’re never seen yourself like this, swollen and puffy. You’re transfixed by Joel’s fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny with your slick. He suddenly finds a spot you’ve never had touched before. You moan as he massages the spongy place, trying to find your breath. When Joel keeps at that and rubs at your clit again, your vision starts to blur. 

“Joel,” you gasp, the feeling foreign and overwhelming. “Joel. Joeljoeljoel -”

“Shh. You’re okay. I’m here,” Joel slows. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You exclaim. Your mind is spinning as the corners of your eyes begin to go white.

“Okay. Alright,” Joel soothes you. “I know, darlin’, I know. Feels so good it’s almost scary, isn’t it?” You screw your eyes shut, your chest heaving as you pant. Joel presses on, his confident voice pushing you close to the edge. “But you don’t need to be scared. You can let yourself have this,” Joel takes a breath in, his voice getting distant. “You deserve this, alright? Let me give this to you.” Joel almost sounds like he’s begging. “Please let me do this for you.”

All you can do is clench around him in response. 

~

Joel knows, Joel knows he shouldn’t be doing this. You’re better than him. You should have someone more handsome, someone younger, someone kinder.

Someone with less blood on their hands. 

But Joel is selfish. He’s a selfish man, he has been since he lost Sarah, and he wants this. Wants you. He wants to give you something, make you feel good for just one second in the shitty world you have to live in. He needs this. He needs to know you’re getting some type of pleasure. 

He hesitates when you say this is your first time.

It shouldn’t surprise him - you don’t have the resources people before the virus did. No internet, no sex ed, no parents or older siblings to ask. 

You don’t like new things. Joel knows you don’t like being inexperienced. You’re too good at what you do, it makes your tolerance for being out of depth very, very low. And this is so much more personal than anything else. He can feel your embarrassment when you confess to him, unable to even finish your sentence. 

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, and it isn’t because you have anything to be ashamed about, it’s because Joel is pretty sure you’ve barely even touched yourself and you still find it in you to trust him to do it. To beg. Joel is a sick man, because it goes straight to his dick, your trust and desperation. 

He wants to give this to you, and he doesn’t care if it also feels like taking. 

When you cum, sweating and writhing in his arms, you clench tighter around Joel’s fingers than he knew was possible. He can feel your fucking heartbeat, and his hand isn’t even on your chest. 

You’re far away when Joel eases his fingers out of you. He manages to lay you down on the bed, cautious of your ribs. He starts to stand to get a washcloth to clean you up, but you grip his hand. 

“Please don’t go,” you tell him, vulnerable. “Please, Joel.”

Joel hates himself. Hates that he’s ever acted in some type of way that would make you think he would leave you when you need someone.

When you need him. 

“I’m just grabbing something to clean us up,” he promises, rubbing your knee. “We made a mess, darlin’.” You sag, relieved. 

Joel caves once he’s in the bathroom and out of your sight. He presses his fingers to his tongue, savoring your taste. He sucks his fingers off like a starved man, and can’t wait until he gets it straight from the source. 

~

There is hope after all. For you and Joel. You can tell because of the dull throb in your core. Joel’s half hard cock against your hip. The medicine in your packs by the door, the softness of Joel’s lips over the skin of your ribs. 

There is hope - always was. Even though you had to wait for it. 

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hold Me

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: various times that Dean comforts you because of John.

You and Dean had a special bond. Even before Sam had gone off to college and John disappeared, the two of you had been inseparable since the day John first placed you in Dean’s arms.

He’d been just a teenager then, and you barely a toddler. But he’d flashed you a genuine smile, and you’d giggled, and from that moment on, nothing could separate you.

Dean was the one you always went to when you needed anything, partially because of how close you were and partially because you had no one else.

John was far too consumed with the big picture for you to ever feel comfortable talking about your personal problems, and while you loved Sam, he always tried to psychoanalyze your problems, which was never how you felt like dealing with them.

Dean, however…

…

“Commere baby,” Dean pulled you, his four year old little sister, into his lap, rocking you gently as you cried. John had been gone for five days, and you missed your daddy.

“Dad’s gonna be home soon, really,” Sam tried to soothe you, but you only cried harder.

“Hey, can you bring me her backpack?” Dean asked. Sam tossed it to him.

“Are you alright with her? I want to go get us some dinner,” Sam suggested, feeling bad but also desperate to get away from your crying. You’d been upset for the past couple of days, and he couldn’t take much more.

“Yeah, I’ve got her, bring me back a feast.”

After Sam was gone, Dean lifted you so you were hanging onto his neck and began to rummage through your bag. He came up with a small sippy cup, and went to the fridge to fill it with milk. After heating it up in the motel microwave, he sat back down on his bed and settled you into his lap, placing the cup into your tiny hands.

You quieted almost instantly, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking greedily.

“There you go,” Dean grinned, running his fingers through your hair. “Never too old for the warm milk, works every time, eh?”

You didn’t respond, to intent on the cup in your hands, but you leaned your head against Dean’s stomach, taking a few deep breaths as you finished your drink.

By the time Sam got back, you were fast asleep in Dean’s arms, who was softly humming Metallica.

…

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Sam’s words were meant to be soothing, but you just shook your head.

“Dad says it was.”

“Well he-“

“Sam, you’re with me. Y/N, ride with Dean,” John walked past his kids as he headed for his truck, and Sam reluctantly followed.

You climbed into the Impala without another word, and you rode in silence with Dean for several long minutes.

“Why are we turning?” You’d tried to avoid speaking, because you knew Dean would notice your voice thick with tears. But you couldn’t resist questioning him when he stopped following John’s truck.

“Because the Dairy Queen is this way,” Dean answered simply.

“What?”

“What, you think I didn’t notice the sniffling and the way you can’t even turn in my general direction? You ain’t subtle kid, now what kind of ice cream do you want?”

You gave up trying to hide your tear stained face and turned to look at your brother.

“I don’t get it. I screw up the hunt, and you’re buying me ice cream?”

“Ok first of all, you didn’t screw up the hunt that bad, ok? I know it was your job to reassemble the guns, and-“

“Yeah, and I lost a piece, and it didn’t work! You could’ve-“

“Hey now,” Dean’s voice rose, and you stopped. “Would you just listen? I know, but that wasn’t the only gun we had on the hunt, we were fine one gun short. Look, I’m not gonna pretend you didn’t make a mistake ok? But everyone makes mistakes, and I mean everyone. And dad went at you pretty hard, and I know how much you hate it when he yells. So ice cream it is, now are you gonna tell me what you want or should we just go?”

Five minutes later, you were on the road again, your tears forgotten as both of you belted out to Dean’s Metallica tape between bites of ice cream.

…

The mood in the motel room had been solemn, to say the least, but no one was willing to bring it up. John had passed away just days ago, and the three of you had barely spoken to each other since. Sam had tried to talk to you, mostly because he knew that every time you went to “take a walk”, you really just wanted to cry your eyes out. But the last thing you wanted to do what talk about John. He wasn’t always the best man, but he was your dad.

What made matters worse, however, was that even though Sam had tried several times to help you, Dean seemed to be avoiding you entirely. You didn’t expect him to try to talk about it, that wasn’t his style, but you also didn’t expect him to ignore your existence.

But when Sam left for a food run and the time came to confront him about it, you were nervous. What if he just needed some space? After all, he was probably the closest to John.

Well, if that was the case, then maybe you could help him this time, but you couldn’t leave things the way they were, it was too hard.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up from John’s journal, which he was reading while stretched out on his bed.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” now that the moment had come, you weren’t sure of what to say. “How’s it going?”

He sighed, gesturing at the book.

“Not great, haven’t found anything of use yet.”

You swallowed, “That’s not really what I meant. How’s it going…like with you?” You cringed inwardly. This sounded ridiculous, even to your own ears.

Dean closed the book, frowning.

“Fine.”

You sighed, “No, really.”

Dean scoffed, “Who are you, Sam? What’s going on with you?”

“I just…I wanted to know,” you shrugged.

“You and me both know that you don’t want to stand here and talk about feelings.”

“It’s better than not talking at all,” you dropped your gaze at this, too embarrassed to meet Dean’s eye. Maybe you were wrong, he hadn’t been avoiding you, he was just quiet or something.

“What do you mean? We can talk, we’re talking now.”

You gained a little bit of your courage back.

“Yeah, and this is the first time in days. Dean, you’ve barely even looked at me since…” your breath caught. You couldn’t say it, not yet.

Dean seemed to catch on that you were done, and he sighed.

“Kid, I don’t know what you’re-“

“I’m not just a kid anymore!” You didn’t mean to yell, and when Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise you brought your voice down. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he cleared his throat, and found the words.

“I can’t fix this.”

“What?”

Dean put the journal down and gestured for you to get closer, so you climbed up on his bed and sat next to him.

“I can’t just buy you a treat and play Metallica and wait for you to stop crying, ok? I can’t put a bandaid on this. I can’t distract you from it, it’s too big.”

You looked up at your big brother, and his eyes looked more broken now than they did when John died.

“You wanted to fix this for me?”

“Of course,” Dean reached up and brushed a stray tear off your cheek. “That’s all I ever want to do. But baby…I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve been avoiding you, you’re right. And it’s because I know I can’t make this go away.”

“You don’t have to make it go away. I don’t need an answer to all life’s problems, I just need my big brother.”

“But what do you need me to do?” He demanded desperately.

“Be here.”

You could see in his eyes that it wasn’t enough, he needed to know he was helping you. You sighed softly.

“Open your arms.”

He frowned, but obeyed. You scooted closer, depositing yourself in his lap and leaning your forehead against his chest. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, one hand coming up to cradle your head.

“I just want this,” you whispered, and you felt Dean’s arms tighten comfortingly around you.

“Then I’m here,” he promised.

When Sam came back, tired and worn down, he felt a smile creep onto his lips when he opened to motel door to see you asleep in Dean’s arms, and it took him less than a second to recognize Dean’s humming as Metallica.

[miller-n-morgan-2]

Take Me Home

2. Gunslinger

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: thank you guys for the warm welcome back and for reading the first part! I hope to be getting the Joel series reposted soon, but for now, I'm just going to be uploading these.

Summary: With the newest outlaw settled into camp, Arthur takes on yet another role within the group: Teacher.

Warnings: canon typical violence, guns, talk of blood and brutality. Backstory mentions misogyny, and has detailed descriptions of arranged marriage. Mild language, some angst, mostly still just an introductory chapter.

WC: 3.3k

“I know what Dutch said,” he nodded, approaching closer and crossing his arms. “I still expect something in return for my services.”

You scoffed. “I ain’t got nothing you would want.”

“Sure, you do…” he trailed, standing right in front of you and reaching down towards your hip. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, even just having him this close to you. When his hand met your gun, pulling it away from its holster, you relaxed just a bit more. “How is it you shoot so fast?”

You haven’t seen much of the nature of Agua Fria, but you’re glad you’re able to, now. You’d town hopped a few times within the city, letting new faces get a look at yours. But there was a sort of pressure in those crowded areas, and it doesn’t feel like that in the Van Der Linde campsite. 

The gang has taken well to you. It’s been a fortnight since you joined up, the ragtag gang of outlaws, thieves, and gunslingers had been welcoming, given your display on just the day after your arrival.

Dutch has yet to send you on any jobs, mainly because of something you revealed to everyone around the campfire a week ago. 

“How does one shoot a rifle?” you pondered curiously, the silence of the group making you anxious.

“Boy, you better be pulling my leg,” Dutch himself butted in, shaking his head in disbelief. A cigarette hung from his lips, but he pulled it away to stare you down. 

“Well, I just…” haven’t ever shot one before. You’d trailed off before any further mockery could be made, but it was too late.

“You mean to tell me, that in eighteen years of life, you never managed to fire a rifle?” Arthur chimed in, though he was in on your secret, this revelation still surprised him. What else were you hiding?

“If y’all are just gonna mock me, I’m turnin’ in.”

Dutch laughed, and everyone else in the circle made an attempt to undo the harm done. 

“Javier ain’t even played a damn note, and you’re gonna sleep?” John cut in, his gravelly voice full of resentment to your attitude. Maybe you were a bit touchy, but it’s not like you’d ever had close friends to joke around with before. Much less people who got away with poking so much fun to your name.

“Who cares if he can’t shoot a rifle? He’s got a faster shot than all of you with a pistol,” Tilly piped up, her sweet voice just about putting all the other men in their place. She looked at you with contrition. “I’m not very good with those big guns, either.” 

“Thank you, Miss Tilly,” you tipped your hat, sitting back down on the log next to her. 

That was another thing… You couldn’t bear to break the young girl’s heart, although she would have to find out eventually that you were not in fact the man she thought you were. 

Arthur chuckled under his breath watching the interaction, going back to the drink in his hand with a shake of his head. He wouldn’t say anything, he promised he wouldn’t… but some of these occurrences were just too amusing, he couldn’t help his genuine reactions. The slanted jokes about male anatomy towards you, usually coming from John, Sean, or even the calendar boys. The way that you nearly had a heart attack when Miss Grimshaw offered to help you out of your clothes to wash them. Even now, the sweet words from Tilly and the funny way you looked at your feet to avoid meeting her eyes. 

He’d been surprised, if he’s honest. He thought that with all her romantic notions and storybook thoughts that Mary-Beth would be the one to fancy a new gunslinger… but maybe you just weren’t her type. Perhaps it was the red hair that deterred her, he knows for sure that was the case when Sean tried his luck. Good thing Karen was there to catch his fall. But sweet Tilly had no idea what she was in for.

He’d teased you about it over the next week, and finally today, when it was time to show you the ropes of a rifle. Dutch insisted that running with them required knowledge of more than pistols and revolvers, and who better to teach than the enforcer himself.

“Like this?” you asked, trying to place the gun correctly. 

“Yeah sure, if you wanna blow your arm out of socket.” His low chuckle, followed by a drag of smoke was not helpful, and neither were his words, but your position was just too funny.

“I believe this is where you’re s’posed to be helpin’ me,” you replied, a fiery bite in your words. You’d been learning to warm up to people’s teasing, although it was still a long road to go. 

He stood to his feet from where he lounged by a tree, coming up beside you to kick your foot out a little. “Can’t stand like a tree, kid… you’ll tip over in the wind.”

He pulled the butt of the gun into your shoulder, making sure you wouldn’t give out when the gun fires. 

“Alright, the shootin’ part should be easy for you. Just hold strong, that thing’s gonna kick back a hell of a lot more than any handgun.” 

You pulled back the bolt, raising the barrel until you could aim properly. The glass bottle on the tree branch down the way looked like an easy enough target, but when you fired, you weren’t ready for how much pressure the gun would push on you, and you stumbled back into Arthur. 

“Mind your step, will ya?” he teased yet again, and it took everything in you to just ready your stance and try again without saying a word. 

You took a deep breath, pulling back on the bolt once more. You had a good idea as to how much you needed to push back this time. Finding the bottle again, you pulled the trigger, closing your eyes at the explosion and faintly hearing the sound of broken glass in the distance. 

“I did alright,” you turned to Arthur, a narrow gaze in his eyes as he looked from you then back to the tree. It was quite a distance away, and he was surprised you’d hit so accurately already. Then again, you were kind of known for your accuracy… but you’d never fired a rifle.

“Yeah, more than alright,” he reasoned, taking the gun from you and turning to take a shot for himself. “Now ya just gotta work on speed. This ain’t nothing you can keep on your hip.”

He fired one round after another, each bullet hitting the same branch on a tree until it fell from the trunk completely. Wow. 

He smirked over his shoulder, and your face probably gave him an even better reason to be smug. You were clearly in awe of almost everything this man did. Taking care of his horse? In awe. Carrying supplies from the wagon into camp without having to make several trips? In awe. Even now, his accuracy and reaction time. He was so skilled, and you wondered if you’d ever match him. 

“Now,” he said, setting the rifle by the tree. “I don’t just go about teachin’ folk how to shoot for free.”

“But Dutch said that-”

“I know what Dutch said,” he nodded, approaching closer and crossing his arms. “I still expect something in return for my services.”

You scoffed. “I ain’t got nothing you would want.”

“Sure, you do…” he trailed, standing right in front of you and reaching down towards your hip. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, even just having him this close to you. When his hand met your gun, pulling it away from its holster, you relaxed just a bit more. “How is it you shoot so fast?” 

Honestly, you didn’t have a clue. Everything you did to get faster, you’re sure he’s already done, and a million times over. 

“Nerves, mostly. My hands start shakin’ whenever I get a challenger, they start itching to shoot real bad… guess that’s why.”

He nodded, but was unsatisfied. Your answer was vague and unconvincing.

“What’d you do to learn? You obviously ain’t shot another gun but this one here, tell me how it came along,” he raised the pistol in the air, his skilful hands spinning it over a finger with ease. 

“I guess s’a long story.”

“And since you learned your way around a rifle so well, we got nothin’ but time.”

You sighed, stepping into the shade of the tree closest to you. You leaned into it, crossing your arms and watching as he continued to handle your closest ally in his steady hands. 

How do you even start this story? How does it even get told? You’d never uttered a word about your past to a single person since it all unraveled. You weren’t sure he’d stick around to hear it all, or maybe if he did, he would think you to be foolish. 

But this Arthur Morgan, with his tough exterior and gruff voice had a soft spot. He was gentle when need be, kinder than most. You suppose he derives it from Hosea, given that the man practically raised him into manhood. 

“You know, I used to be a little rich girl,” you chuckled, watching for his reaction. It was surprising to him, but he waited, almost as if thinking you’d retract it as a joke. “Yeah… lived on a big orange grove in South Carolina.”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” he let out when he realized you weren’t messing around. 

“Had a rich daddy and a rich mama. My entire lineage has gotta be worth a couple million at least.”

“Then why on earth are you here? You’d have to be crazy to leave that behind,” he gripped your pistol tightly now, his entire stance leaning on his left leg as he narrowly watched you lounging against the tree. 

“Oh, I had a good reason,” you scoffed with wide eyes. 

“Good enough to leave behind a family fortune?” 

He’s a man. Every man you’ve ever met is the same. They pay no mind to you anymore because you look like one of them now. But before? It was practically a brawl at every public event you attended. You hope that Arthur does not prove to be like the rest. You’ve already been so sure that he stands out, it'll break your heart if you were wrong.

“I know it may not seem like it, but I used to be quite the stunner. I attracted quite a few suitors.”

He nodded, looking you up and down in one glance before coughing a bit and averting his eyes. You hid yourself well, but if he tried hard enough, he could imagine how you would look in more feminine apparel. He liked what he was imagining. 

“I don’t doubt it…”

“Well, my dad was in control of who would have my hand, and as you can imagine I wasn’t fond of that fact… He picked one of his old pals from Virginia, another big farmer like himself, wealthy beyond belief and probably thirty five years my senior.”

Arthur was still, blinking a few times. He doesn’t understand. Yes, you would have had to marry someone you were not interested in… but the situation seemed ideal otherwise. 

“You would have been well taken care of, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh sure,” you nodded, but there was a smirk on your lips. “I would have been just dandy until he found a reason to kill me like he did his first two wives. My father never believed the accusations, of course, and the evidence had been conveniently destroyed… but I knew better.”

He let out a low whistle, finally looking back to your gun and wondering if its origins were about to come to light. Yeah, he thought. That’s a pretty damn good reason.

“So you ran off?” 

You gave a small nod, remembering the last time you ever saw your home and family.

“When I was eighteen I was shipped off to Virginia with a caravan, but before I could be delivered to old Thomas Arlington’s doorstep, I hid overnight in a stable. I stole a horse and headed west a bit.”

“How far west?” 

“West Virginia,” you chuckled. “I got to lurk around there a while, I started dressing all boyish and helped a travelin’ musician with his shows. After he settled down I found that very gun on the ground of a saloon. No one ever claimed her, so I polished her up and started practicing draws. I got pretty good, made bets on shootin’ games to get by.”

“You just… picked her up and started shootin’?”

“It sounds quite dull when you put it that way,” you laughed, holding your hand out to take the gun back. You’re not expert with this thing, can’t even spin it half as well or efficiently as he does… but you might be the best in the world at drawing it from your holster. “I’d never shot anyone before, until one man got real upset that he lost a shooting game to me. It was my first duel… and I won. All because of a game. It was that can game we played after I got here.”

“I figured as much. I ain’t never believed anyone could shoot faster than me until I saw you that day. Paid close attention to those bullet holes.”

He was being far too kind. It’s not like you were anything like him. He had it all. Strength, skill, wits, and as you learned with every glance, the looks to kill.

“I ain’t any good beside the one shot I know how to take.” Your confession meant more to him than you realized.

Yeah, he thought. You can draw, but before today you’d never shot a rifle. You’d never used a knife. Likely never robbed a bank or a stage coach or anything of that sort. Aside from duels, you’re clean cut and inexperienced… your nickname holds far more weight than he’s sure you can actually hold. Ruthless killer? More like a hustler with a bit of blood dusting your fingers. You haven’t made any ground compared to him, yet you’re the one they know far and wide. 

“Let’s make a deal,” he started, his steps carrying him quite close to your form, nearly hovering over you. “I’m gonna make you one of us. Teach you everything you need to know. Fightin’, stealin’, sneakin’ round… all of it. And in return, you’re gonna teach me how to shoot faster than you.”

He knows it’s built on a prideful notion, but he reckons you don’t care, because he’s offering you far more than you can give him. Obviously you agree, because even if you try to teach him, you are almost positive that you don’t even know the secret to your speed.

“Alright, cowboy… I’ll shake on it.”

And you do, squeezing his hand tightly.

-

You find yourself settling into the camp a lot easier than the weeks before. The names of the people here just roll off your tongue, whenever you see them, a greeting is spoken. You’ve also been able to sleep soundly in your tent despite the fears of the animal sounds out in the distance. You’ve come to realize that you aren’t alone in the wilderness, and you have a sort of family to keep you safe, now. 

Arthur continues to show you the ropes, giving you tricks and quick witted thoughts for situations you would never have thought to put yourself in. They all are illegal situations, of course, but you listen intently, and learn each step with an absorbent state of mind. 

Even if he doesn’t outwardly show it, you think Dutch is happy about your progress, given that you are not only an asset to future jobs, but also because you seem to blend well with everyone. He definitely views his gang as a family of fugitives, and now that you’re one of them, he’s become warm with you, even calls you ‘son.’ 

There is one member of camp that to date, you haven’t gotten into conversation with. Hosea Matthews. The man seemed to be the fatherly type, and nearly everyone in the gang had a sort of paternal view of him in some way. You reckon Arthur has taken the man to be closer to him than actual blood. The great Mr. Morgan doesn’t often share details of his past, but you’ve heard here and there about the rascal that was his father, dead and gone when Arthur was a kid, but not soon enough. 

It was a Tuesday morning, after a round of stale coffee when he first sat down beside you for a friendly chat. You couldn't have possibly known the contents of the topics he had in mind, but you were about to be bombarded with them in the most gentle way you reckon a man can speak. 

“Mister Gunslinger,” he began, a gentle clap on your shoulder to garner your attention. “I’ve heard you’re getting to be the best man at camp.”

His friendly chuckle eased your nerves, but you brushed off his words anyway. 

“Not sure ‘bout that. Just learnin’ the ropes,” you nodded along to your own words, hoping they caught well with him. 

“Arthur told me you picked up a rifle for the first time a few days ago and blew him out of the water,” he mentioned, the tone in his voice suggesting he wanted his compliment to land. 

“He’s bein’ far kinder than I deserve,'' you scoffed, shaking your head this time. “Nearly took my shoulder out of socket on the first shot.”

“But you broke a bottle on the second,” he returned, likely quoting your dear mentor’s own words. “How did you learn to shoot that pistol of yours, anyhow?”  

Hosea knew everyone’s stories. He was the father of the camp, albeit not the leader. He knew everything about everyone, and he took care of them. You took one look at him and decided you could trust him from day one… but that didn’t mean he should know everything.

“Well, I found this gun a while ago, just started shootin’ it till I hit somethin’.”

He leaned forward in his seat, another chuckle rolling off his tongue, but the question went unanswered in the way he’d hoped for. He took a breath, turning to face you a bit more… He decided to be straight with you. 

“I’m sure you’ve probably got things in your past you’re not too proud of. I’ve heard the name ‘Texas Red’ in quite a few towns now. I guess I’m just curious about what you did before the gunslinging days.”

“Oh…” you trailed, completely unsure if elaborating on your past, even without context, could force you to accidentally spill something you didn’t intend to. So you took the safe route. “Not much to tell. Ran away from home, stole a horse and headed west. Found this gun in an old saloon and the rest is history.”

He saw through the act, but didn’t let on. He didn’t want you to feel like you needed to hide things, but similarly, he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk. This camp was a safe place. As long as you kept to the rules and helped out, you didn’t need to do anything else. You could just live freely and have your being. 

“Listen, son… I know it’s probably hard to open up about things you’ve gone and left in the past. Every person here has a story, somewhere they came from or something they did. If you ever want to talk about yours, I’m always up for good conversation.”

You looked into his eyes, and they were full of contrition, full of compassion. You guessed there wasn’t a bad bone in this man’s body. 

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nodded once before standing up and heading down to the river bank, likely to fish. 

You wonder if he has suspicion of you, or if he knows more already than he’s leading onto. But then you think, no. He’s just a kind older man that actually gives a damn about the younger folks here. He didn’t seem to have any biological sons or daughters, but this camp was full of family he could call his own.

You think you're starting to call them family, too.

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