#honestly that's just how it is with my brain . finger guns

[blaiddraws]

from submas drawpile yesterday. i was requested to draw this. I've realized this is the First Thing I've drawn in 2023

[evermoreal]

here’s some more outlaw!au <3 thank u guys sm for all the love u showed on the first part of this. makes me so happy knowing people enjoyed the silly little idea that’s been terrorizing my brain.

the ride was long and wearisome. the adrenaline, like milk left on the counter, quickly began to sour into terror.

after gaz tied your hands behind your back and handed you off to a grinning price, he’d positioned you over the saddle of his horse — a broad, chestnut roan — climbing behind and wrapping his arms around you to steer the thing. his chest was shoved against your back, holsters poking against your spine and suffocating you in with an unappealing cocktail of leather, tobacco, dirt, and blood.

beyond lessons as a child, you’d never ridden a horse — not how they did, at least. the gnarled terrain made for a rough ride, and within the hour your thighs began to ache. you kept quiet, listening instead to the trotting of hooves and the sporadic remarks thrown between the men.

the men who now held your life, your will, in their hands.

you’d done your very best not to think about it — tried not to think about anything at all. you’d kept your gaze on the passing wilderness, studying the shapes of trees and wildflowers, imagining what lay beyond. the shadows, the shrubbery. coyotes, perhaps. foxes and deer.

it could only keep you occupied for so long. the silence pressed in, and it clawed it’s way to the forefront of your mind.

the gunshot still echoed off the walls of your skull.

“yer shakin’, swee’eart.” price’s breath was warm against your throat, and his voice was rough. “havin’ regrets, are we?”

swallowing whatever fretful sound that tried to escape, you answered honestly: “no, sir.”

“sir.” his tone was mocking, edged with a low chuckle. “so polite. how could a sweet thing like you be so willing to kill, hm?”

your breath shook, and you knew he’d heard it, no matter how much you hoped he didn’t. “i didn’t kill him,” you said. “you did. sir.”

“oh, lovey. i was jus’ holdin’ the gun — you told me where to aim.” his chest flexed against you as he heaved a sigh. “all i wanted was the money. without yer insistence, poor fellow’d still be ‘live an’ breathin’.”

the words knocked something loose. for all intents and purposes, you were a killer.

and worse, no matter how desperately you search, you could not find any regret.

“tha’s right,” he murmurs, as if you’d voiced the thoughts aloud. calloused fingers grip your chin, turning your face towards his. a light spattering of dirt covered his face, crawling along his crows feet and laugh lines. “just like us, ain’t you? dressin’ y’up in this pretty little outfit can’t change wha’s underneath.” he tugged at your dress. “‘s a good thing we found ye, ain’t it? what if ye’d made it to yer honeymoon an’ he’d tried to touch you? what would you have done?”

uselessly, you tried to pull away. price held firm, gripping you tightly. “answer me, sweet thing. what would ye have done?”

an ache had begun to thrum along the side of your throat; his fingers were calloused and tight around your jaw. your breathing was jagged around your words: “i wouldn’t have — i wouldn’t have let him.”

“no?” his voice was softer, like he was pleased. “how would you have stopped him?”

the terror was red-hot, and the acceptance was a balm. “he keeps — kept — a gun in the closet. no matter where we were staying.”

“yeah?” though he didn’t release your chin, his grip gentled, and he traced his thumb back and forth along your jaw. “you ever shot a gun before, love?”

“no,” you answered. “i’ve watched my father load them enough times, though.”

his lips had curved ever so slightly, and his eyes had softened, like you were proclaiming your love for him instead of explaining how you’d planned to kill a man.

“you’d have made such a mess,” he said tenderly, gently. “you don’t know the first thing about gettin’ rid of a body. his blood would’ve been everywhere, swee’eart. all over this pretty face, these clothes.” his thumb traced your bottom lip. “y’don’t have ta worry ’bout that now, though. y’ve got us for that, yeah?”

as his eyes bore into yours, brimmed with something you couldn’t quite read, you belatedly realized he wanted an answer. though your mouth had gone dry and a heavy pit had formed in your stomach, you nodded along to his words, murming a quiet, “yes,” before you could think any better of it.

[fear-is-truth]

can u do a quicksilver fic where he has like the biggest crush on readerrr and hes just like really awkward abt it😋😋

peter maximoff was quick of wit and even faster on his feet—forever living up to his alias, “quicksilver”. but when it came to you, it was like his brain short-circuited. you weren’t sure why exactly he suddenly hung around more—leaning against the wall as you passed through the x-mansion, offering a lopsided smile and finger guns whenever you looked his way.

and honestly? it was hard not to notice, especially after the time he zipped over to say hi and tripped flat on his face right in front of you.

today was no different. you were half-heartedly flipping through a magazine in the library when peter sauntered in, casually propping himself against the doorframe. he was practically vibrating in place, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he could barely stand still. his hand shot up to ruffle the back of his head, his silver hair sticking up at odd angles.

“hey,” he blurted out, a little too loud before he cleared his throat, trying again. “you, uh, busy or something?”

you glanced up, quirking an eyebrow.

“not particularly. why?”

peter shrugged, eyes darting around the room.

“cool, cool. ‘cause, um, i was thinking… maybe you’d wanna do something. with me. or not, y’know, no pressure. i mean, there’s totally other things you could be doing, obviously—like reading that magazine.”

you smirked, closing the magazine with a soft thud. “real smooth, peter.”

“yeah, exactly what i was going for.”

he shifted from foot to foot before, in a blink, zipped across the room to land beside you on the couch, sitting way too close.

“look, i just…” peter hesitated, as if the speedster was searching for the right words—a rarity for him. “you’re not weirded out, right?”

your head tilted slightly, suppressing a smile. “weirded out by what?”

“oh nothing!” his voice cracked as he waved his hands in the air defensively. “not weirded out that i like hanging out with you or anything, because that’d be ridiculous. right?”

he shot you a nervous grin, eyes flicking to yours, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. amused, you held his gaze, before deciding to throw him a lifeline.

“not weird at all, peter. i like hanging out with you too.”

upon hearing your words, his face lit up like a lightbulb. bouncing on the couch seat, he fist-pumped the air triumphantly.

“yes! awesome. so, how about we hang out, like, now? maybe grab a burger? or ice cream? or—whatever you want. i can literally get anything.” he paused abruptly, smile faltering. “just, uh, not pizza.”

“why not?” you tilted your head curiously.

“because you've already got a pizza my heart.”

the laugh burst from your throat before you could stop it, and peter blinked, realising just how bad the line was.

“okay, um. forget i said that,” he muttered, cheeks flushing a dark shade of red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“sounded way cooler in my head.”

“c’mon peter, that was priceless.”

he winced, shaking his head. “yeah, not exactly my finest moment. but, anyway—still up for hanging out?”

your lips curled into a smile as you leaned in slightly. “you kidding? of course.”

you lowered your voice confidentially and whispered in his ear.

“by the way, if you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.“

peter froze, staring at you like you’d just grown an extra head. his silence stretched for a beat before he groaned, eyes scrunching shut in mock agony.

“now that was especially corny.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[roosterforme]

Ready, Rough and Unromantic | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley has a rough day at work, he knows the only thing that will make him feel better is his wife. But will you let him dominate you? Will you let him use you just how he needs to? He shouldn't have been surprised by your answer or your response to him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, rough smut, dominant smut

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I am so proud of you, Roo," you whispered, kissing his neck and zipping up his flight suit. It was early, the sun was just peeking through the bedroom curtains, but you were up helping him get ready for the first day of his duties.

Bradley would be spending the week as an assistant instructor at Top Gun. Few people would appreciate what an honor this was, but you understood it implicitly. You hadn't yet bothered to dress for the day, but you decided to wake up early to wish him luck. 

He ran his fingers along your soft skin, completely bare for him except for your glasses and wedding rings, as he said, "I always want to make you proud, Baby Girl."

When Bradley tipped his head down to kiss your cheek, you giggled. The sound went right to the part of his brain that controlled his unbridled desire for you. All he had to do was squeeze your bare hip with his big hand, and you looked up into his eyes.

"Do we have time?" you asked softly before you bit your lip.

He kind of shrugged and grunted, but you were already lowering the zipper of his flight suit all the way down. Bradley let you take the lead on this one, and when you dropped to your knees, he was not disappointed. 

The way you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock... yeah, there would always be time for that. "You're so fucking good," he groaned as you took him deep, and he hit the back of your throat. You sucked on him until you were gagging, then you pulled him out as a strand of your saliva dripped onto your tits.

"This is for good luck," you told him before you tilted your head and sucked on his balls until he was pulling on your hair a little rough.

"Oh," he groaned. "My wife doesn't mess around." His words were deep and gruff compared to the long, soft moans you made as your tongue swirled up the length of his cock. 

You kissed the tip of him, whispered, "I love you," and then you gave him absolutely filthy head until he was cumming all over you. Your hollowed cheeks and warm hands had him fucking your face until cum dripped out of the corners of your lips. And when he spurted onto your glasses a second later, your giggle returned.

Bradley loved the sight of it enough that he wanted to make a mess with you later on when he had more time. Coat your glasses up real good. Maybe help you lick them clean. 

"Fuck," he growled. "I need to leave, Sweetheart." Bradley pulled you to your feet and placed a soft slap to your ass. You kissed him hard one time, and he promised he'd take care of you later.

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

"Tally, tally!" called one of the younger recruits into the radio. But his teammate and wingman left him hanging long enough that Bradley got himself quickly into position. A few seconds later, Bradley got tone on him and eliminated him. 

He was feeling great, and when the team landed along with Bradley, he took some time to show them where they went wrong and how they could improve. "As soon as you hesitate, it's over," he informed them, knowing very well that he had learned that lesson himself not terribly long ago.

The recruits filed back inside for lunch while Bradley joined Maverick and the other teachers to go over the plans for the afternoon. Honestly, he was having a great day, and when he was told he'd be taking another team up in the afternoon, he was looking forward to it.

But he must have been distracted. Or maybe he was the one who hesitated this time. Because as soon as Bradley managed to fly the two seater Super Hornet into a corner, he heard tone lock onto his own aircraft. 

He had been outmaneuvered by a twenty five year old student. 

Bradley landed his aircraft in a state of shocked silence, barely managing to communicate with the tower. He was mortified. And of course, as soon as he walked into the tower, everyone knew about it. 

"It happens," Mav told him. "It was your first day instructing. You'll nail their asses to the wall tomorrow."

But Bradley could see the looks on the students' faces. He could practically hear Nat's voice through her text message.

Are you fucking kidding me, Rooster? They took you out?

He wasn't even sure how she heard about it from the simulation classroom. But seemingly everyone knew. It took everything inside him to keep his shoulders squared and his voice calm. Because inside he wanted to rage. He wanted back up in the air. He wanted to meticulously pick off every single other aircraft one at a time until he didn't feel like a joke anymore. 

And that made him feel like maybe he wasn't ready to be an instructor yet.

"Fuck," he growled, slamming his locker door closed later. Absolutely nobody messed with him in the locker room. Nobody would even look at him. He was surrounded by dead silence everywhere he went. 

As he stormed out to his Bronco, his skin was crawling with the burning need to prove himself. To dominate his surroundings. When he started up the engine, he took a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm the rising temperature of his humiliation. The blazing desire to conquer. Overpower. Defeat.

He needed to get home to you. Somehow he knew you were the only thing that would make him feel better.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was practically panting. You were already home from work. This was good. When he opened the front door, he called out, "Where are you?" His voice was raspy. His body was too hot. 

"In the kitchen, Roo!" you replied. "Come tell me all about your day!" 

You had taken your boots and socks off, but you were still in your uniform with your hair pulled back in a tight bun. And you were up on the kitchen counter changing the lightbulb that he had noticed kept flickering. This kind of shit was his job to take care of around the house. You shouldn't have to be up on the counter like this. 

But as soon as he really looked at you, his cock throbbed with need. You looked at him over your shoulder as you finished with the new bulb. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, slightly alarmed. You must have seen the look in his eyes. He had never looked at you like this before.

Bradley knew you could make him feel better. If you let him do it. If you'd let him take his day out on you. 

He snagged you off the counter and into his arms as you squealed, but you quickly gaped at him as he carried you to the bedroom. 

"Bradley?" you whispered, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and searching his face.

He tossed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you, not bothering to remove his boots. You were silent, eyes wide and lips softly parted as he let you have his body weight. Your gaze was on his lips like you were expecting him to kiss you and be your sweet husband like he usually was.

"No," he growled, and your eyes darted up to his. You looked needy and uncertain. Bradley could tell you wanted to ask him what was going on. But then he read your last name on your nametag, annoyed that it didn't say Bradshaw yet. Very gently, he removed it, snapped it in half, and threw it across the room. Then he unbuttoned your shirt without a word and pushed it open wide. 

Your nipples were straining against your black lace bra. You were very subtly rubbing yourself up against his hard cock. Your pupils were dilated. You wanted to get fucked. 

"I hate your fucking name tag. Okay?" he asked, voice gruff as he wrapped his hand around the front of your neck. "I hate it."

You bit your lip and whispered, "You had a bad day."

"You told me you were going to get a new name tag," he grunted, pressing his hard cock against your thigh. "You said you submitted the paperwork for your name change."

"I did." Your voice was so needy. Bradley shoved his thumb into your mouth and watched as you opened wide and licked him.

"Get a new fucking name tag. And leave the light bulbs for me to change."

"I will," you said again with your mouth full of his thumb.

"Shut up," he growled, and your eyes went so wide as you moaned. "I'm not in the fucking mood. And I'm not going to be sweet. Not right now. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you cry. Use your pussy exactly how I want to."

You moaned around his thumb again. 

"Tell me that's what you want," he demanded. You nodded your head, and he withdrew his thumb. "Fucking say it."

"I want it." Your voice was breathy but sure, and Bradley was going to dominate you until your tears and whining made him feel better. Because there was always only you who could fix him.

He practically ripped open the front of your khaki uniform pants to get to you. Bradley yanked the fabric down your legs and sent your pants across the room to meet your broken name tag. Tiny, black lace panties cut low on your hips. He could see your tattoo. He could tell you were wet through the fabric. 

"You look like a little slut," he informed you. He watched you bite your lip as your back arched off the bed. "You shouldn't be this excited about being manhandled." Then the scrap of black lace met the same fate as your pants and the name tag.

Bradley had to commend you. You kept your mouth shut as he unzipped his flight suit, lowering the sleeves and pulling his cock free. You were silent as he rubbed himself through your wet slit. You didn't make a noise as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet pussy until he bottomed out. And only the softest sound escaped your lips as Bradley wrapped his big hands around your hips and lifted you slightly off the bed.

But you screamed when he held you in place, your ass in midair, and fucked you like you were his own personal toy. He slammed into your pussy with short, rough strokes. It was, in so many ways, the dirtiest thing he had ever done to you. And it felt to fucking good, Bradley could cum inside you right now. But your screams had him going harder, wanting to enjoy this feeling of control for as long as possible. 

"Louder," he told you. But he didn't really even need to say anything as he tightened his grip on your flesh and fucked you until tears leaked from your eyes. Your cries filled the room, so loud his ears were ringing from it. 

He withdrew from your body and let you fall to the bed. You were scrambling now, reaching for him. Looking up at him with tears in your eyes like you needed him to kiss you. 

He flipped you onto your belly before ramming his cock inside you again. Your hands were all balled up in the pillowcase as you cried out against the bedding. The rapid slap slap slapping noise of his body dominating yours was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard. The way you were letting him calm his nerves and soothe his ego, well if he hadn't already married you, he'd do it today. 

He palmed you softly before laying a solid smack right to the round of your ass. You moaned and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down and put his lips next to your ear. "Tell me you want me to stop."

You shook your head and turned to look back at him, eyes red with tears. "Keep going," you hiccupped. "Please."

Bradley pushed your face back down into the pillow as you gasped and cried for him. He pumped his hips hard, grabbing at your thighs and your backside. Then he wrapped his forearm underneath you and pulled you up until you were on your knees for him. And how he had the perfect view of your body as you took him, full hilt, like a champ. You gorgeous pussy grabbed at him with each stroke, and Bradley spit on you where you were joined, making everything wetter.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked as you moaned and whimpered. "Huh? You actually fucking like this." He was so close as he spanked you just to feel you clench around him. "You fucking slut." 

He pressed his lips to your ear again and slipped his hand up to shove his fingers into your mouth. You were moaning and slobbering all over his hand, crying into the pillow. 

"You're perfect," Bradley growled as he filled you up with his cum. He fucked you with jerky strokes, pushing his load deeper and deeper until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand on your ass. You were half crushed under his body weight, kitten licking his fingers when he realized he felt so good. So much calmer. You made everything better just like he knew you would.

But now he was slightly concerned that he had taken it too far, even with your permission. As he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he whispered, "Are you okay, Baby Girl?"

Your voice was still a little watery with tears as you said, "I won't be able to walk tomorrow. And now I need to update my to-do list so I remember to order a new name tag. But that was hot. Do you feel better?"

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and buried his nose against your skin. He felt perfect. "So much better. Thank you." 

He helped you to your feet with the promise of a bubble bath. Then he assured you he could figure out how to make something for dinner. After he picked up all of the discarded clothing, he threw your name tag in the bathroom trash can while you sank down into the tub.

"I have an extra name tag in my office, you know," you told him with an eye roll and a smirk. 

"I know," he replied, bending to kiss your nose. "And I have an extra one in my locker. You can have it. We can match. It'll be cute." And now all he could think about was you wearing his last name on your khaki uniform every day. 

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

Okay, yes...okay, yep. That happened. Stay tuned for the upcoming (4th!) series with Roo and BG called Always Ever Only You! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[lotus-n-l0ve]

may i request a gun smut to feed my desires :< a wife!reader would be cute..

Look at me, shamelessly answering after months 🫣 honestly speaking, I have tried to write something with this so many times before but I just couldn't. My smut game is really bad 😮‍💨

TOUCH OF DELIGHT

— Gun Park x Wife!Female Reader

Its Not Smut It's Romance.

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : Just gun and his wife fucking.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Smut, kissing, slight cockwarming, inappropriate language, unprotected sex, 633 words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // LOOKISM MASTERLIST

DON'T PRESS [KEEP READING] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

The spacious room is dimmed with just the golden light of the lamps. Uncountable petals of red rose scattered all over the bed and floor. Gun sat on the fluffy bed with his back resting on the headboard while you straddled his lap. Your naked limbs entangled with each other, feeling each other up. His semi hard cock resting comfortably between your warm walls.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Your whisper cut through the silence of the night.

Gun hummed with his ever so deep voice as he admired you and let you do whatever you wanted. Your fingers caressed under the raven void for eyes. Only you could look at him, possibly the most dangerous gangster of Japan, and think of him to be adorable. Other people wet their pants at even a mention of his name.

Can't blame them though. After all you were the only one with whom Gun left himself so vulnerable. You could stab a knife through his chest and he would still believe that you did that to protect him. He just trusted you that much. Though his trust did not come easy. After years of hurdles, tears, angst and undying love did you two became one.

You held his cheek with both hands, placing feather-like kisses on his closed eyelids. His sturdy arms that were wrapped around your waist descended to grasp your hips on the side. Butterfly kisses drifted down to his swollen lips before taking his lips in a long, passionate kiss.

Gun returned the kiss with equal hunger. Your walls clench around him, making him groan. Gun tightened his grip on your hips and raised you up before slamming you down on his hard cock, making you moan embarrassingly loud in the process. The previous orgasm worked as lubricant as his dick slipped in and out smoothly.

Your moans mixed with his heavy grunts. It was not enough. Gun raised his hips desperately, meeting you in the middle. Seeking for relief. Frustrated, Gun slammed your back on the bed and hovered over you.

“Get ‘n your fuck’n knees.” Gun sneered, lipping his cock out. Though before you could move he flipped you like a sack and brought your ass up in the air and pushed his cock all the way in.

“Ah— gentle, Gun.” You yelp but your throbbing pussy said otherwise.

Gun held your hips and snapped his against your ass desperately. Stretching your wall real well. His heavy balls slapping on your clit and sending shivers down your spine.

“So fucki’n tight even after cumming that much earlier?” Gun taunted through clenched teeth.

A smack lands down on your ass, forcing a mewl out of you. You bury your head further into the pillow and clutch the bedsheet in a death grip. You were a babbling mess, too fucked out of your brain to make any sense since the night began. All you could do was moan and beg for a release.

“Fuck, fuck- Yuzuru, I can't—”

The soft moan of his name sent a rush of adrenal straight to his dick as he picked up the speed. That vein wrapped around his cock rubbed your inside making it harder for him to last.

“Come for me sweetheart, won't ya?” Gun hissed into your ears

Your toes curled up as he shot hot threads of seeds in your pussy, combining with your cum. Gun stayed in you for a few minutes. hysterical panting of you two filled the room. As his heart calmed down Gun pulled his dick. A whimper left your lips.

Gun stared at the white fluid oozed out, running down your tights and dripping onto the sheets. He scooped the liquid spread on your lips and shoved them back in your cunt. Exactly where they belong.

LIKED IT? THEN PLEASE LEAVE A LIKE, REBLOG & COMMENT. IT WOULD MEAN A LOT AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE LIKE THESE. THANK YOU ♡

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

[writeforfandoms]

White Flag

Find my CoD Masterlist

This was supposed to be a good day. You were on a date, it was a beautiful day outside, everything was fine.

And then you got grabbed as a hostage. The upside? You get rescued by a very handsome sergeant.

Warnings: Violence, canon-typical violence, hostage situation, non-graphic injuries, dead bodies. 

Word count: 5k

You were pretty sure this ranked as the worst date you’d ever been on. 

The guy (Kevin, his name was Kevin) had been nice enough. Coffee had been fine. The walk in the park had been pleasant, although that had as much to do with the nice weather as anything else. 

The crazy people who brandished guns at everyone in the park and killed half a dozen people before rounding up the rest of you to shove into vans… Well. That kind of ruined the rest of the date. 

Kevin had been taken too, although he wasn’t with you. The hostages (because that’s what you were now, hostages) had been split into two groups, and Kevin had been with the other group. 

You had no idea if you’d ever see him again. If he was okay.

But honestly, you didn’t have much brain power to spend on him. Because your group had been rounded up into a warehouse, tied to chairs, and left there. The inside of the warehouse was hot and sticky, and the addition of fifteen bodies (ten hostages and five men with guns) quickly made the space nearly unbearably hot and smelly. A few of the hostages were weeping quietly, one not so quietly. 

At least until he got pistol whipped. Then he shut up, staring vacantly into space. 

Your captors honestly didn’t seem very interested in talking to you. Which was probably a good thing. You were feeling a little… floaty. Disconnected. Not all there. Your captors spoke quietly to each other in some language you couldn’t identify. 

There really wasn’t anything for you to do. Which didn’t actually help with the terror or the tingling in your fingers or the panic. But it did help with the floaty feeling. As in, you stayed in the floaty feeling for a while. 

Until you heard the first gunshots. 

“Silence!” one of the captors hissed at the group when someone started screaming. Motioning with his gun, he seemed to send two of the other guards outside. Leaving three of them standing, two between the hostages and the front door, one in back. 

And then nothing. Quiet. For long enough that two of the captors started to get antsy, shifting their weight and looking around. 

You honestly couldn’t say how long the tense silence lasted, how long you sat with your heart in your throat, how long you waited. 

But there were no gunshots when the two guards dropped, just blood and bodies. The last captor barely had a chance to swing his weapon around in a wild arc before he, too, dropped dead to the ground. 

And then two new men walked in, wearing vests and carrying weaponry. You noticed the British flag on both of them and blinked, just once. 

“Clear,” the one with the mutton chops said, lowering his weapon.

“Clear,” the other agreed. “Everyone remain calm, we’ll have you out of here soon,” he said, looking briefly at each of you. You blinked slowly when brown eyes met your own.

They each started on a hostage, getting people free in no time. “Emergency services are right outside,” brown eyes said, helping one woman to her feet. 

You blinked again. Huh. Somehow the fact that you were safe hadn’t really hit yet. Was this what shock felt like? Or were you just… slow? 

Half-way through the group, both men paused and exchanged looks. 

“Go, Cap,” brown eyes said. “I’ve got them.”

“Stay sharp,” mutton chops murmured, clapping his friend briefly on the shoulder before he turned and left, sneaking out a side door you hadn’t even noticed before. 

Brown eyes worked a little slower on his own, but not much. He still helped each person to their feet. Seven down. The eighth hostage needed no help, rushing out of the warehouse as fast as he could go.

And then you saw his gaze dart between you and the woman next to you.

“Get her,” you said softly. Your fingers were numb and your tongue felt thick, but you knew he understood you. He nodded once and stepped up to her, cutting her bonds. This close, you could hear him murmuring to her. 

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice soothing. “Just follow the others out, yeah? And then straight on to the medics.” 

The woman nodded, lips trembling, blonde hair in total disarray. She did need a hand up, and she whispered her gratitude almost too softly for you to hear before she, too, left. 

Leaving just you and him. 

“Alright?” he asked you, still in that low, soothing murmur. 

“Just peachy,” you croaked. Feeling was returning to your fingers with a vengeance now that your hands were free, and you half-way wished it wouldn’t. The pins and needles were very unpleasant. But you staggered to your feet unassisted. 

"I'll walk you out," he offered, one hand tucking under your elbow. 

"Thanks." You licked your lips, glancing down at the nearest body. Blood had pooled around him, a dark stain on the concrete floor. 

"Don't look." Your savior tugged your arm a little, frowning when you looked at him. 

"I'm not about to freak out on you," you assured him, voice still a little scratchy. "Don't worry about me." 

He eyed you curiously, but never had a chance to ask the question you could see lurking in his eyes. His eyes went wide and he pulled you in close, throwing his arm up over both of your heads just as something hit the outside of the building. There was a loud noise, then cracking and shrieking of metal as part of the roof collapsed. Chunks of concrete hit the floor around you two, and you both lurched to one side. 

A second explosion rocked the floor, and you tried to scramble for the door. But a third explosion caused a cave-in: the doorway crumbled and fell, and part of the floor gave way. 

"Shit," he hissed, grabbing desperately for you. "Fuck!" 

You grabbed him with one hand, your other scrambling for something to hold on to. 

But the floor beyond you gave way, and you had a moment of horror before the floor fell away beneath the two of you. 

Then there was only darkness. 

You came to with a low groan, head throbbing. Your whole body ached, warning you against moving. And you wouldn't have. 

Except you realized you couldn't hear anything from your new friend. 

Blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you sat up slowly. Yup. Everything still hurt. But you could move! At least this much. 

And you could see your friend, laying on his back just a foot away from you. 

"Hey." Your voice was paper thin and raspy. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Hey!" 

But he didn't move. You could see him breathing, which blocked some of the panic, but otherwise… nothing. 

Okay. Okay. You needed to check on him, see if there was anything you could do to help. You were not first aid trained, but you remembered some rule about not moving people with head injuries in case of spinal trauma, or something like that. So. No dragging him to you. You had to go to him. 

The space you were in now was only barely lit - it looked like light was filtering down from where the floor used to be. Which was now a pile of rubble. Honestly, it looked like you two had gotten lucky to not get squished, having landed in a mostly clear spot. 

So you took a deep breath and tried to drag yourself closer on your hands. 

Your howl of agony probably should have woken him, but he remained stubbornly unconscious. 

Panting, blinking away tears of pain and shock, you looked down at yourself. And then slammed your eyes shut. 

No. No no no. This couldn't be happening. No. 

Gasping, a little dizzy, you hung your head and clenched your teeth. No. It wasn't that bad. It was fine. You'd be fine. But you still needed to check on him. You needed to remain calm until rescue arrived. That's all. You'd be fine. 

You opened your eyes again but refused to look down at yourself. Instead you twisted your upper body as carefully as you could, checking the distance between you and your friend. Okay. You could just… swivel a bit and reach him. Okay. No big deal. 

But you still had to move very carefully, being extra careful not to move your leg at all. You gave yourself a minute to rest once you'd done that, just breathing and staring at the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

Okay. Checking him over. You could do this. 

A visual inspection showed nothing. No injuries. No blood. 

You were hesitant to check his head, but you did at least look. There was some blood under his head, but not a ton. And he was still breathing, so… 

That was about the extent of what you could do. 

You balanced your weight on one hand, reaching over to tap his cheek with one finger. "Hey. Wake up. Please wake up." 

But nothing. He remained unconscious. 

You hung your head again, pressing your hand over your mouth. Okay. It was fine. The lady who'd gone out ahead of you knew you were still in here. Someone would come to check the building. It would be fine. Someone would come rescue the two of you. 

Okay. You could do this. You could be patient. You could keep an eye on him. 

A burst of noise and static caught your attention, and you frowned. Where had that come from? You didn't see anything around you, nothing electronic… The noise came again and you swung your gaze back to your friend. 

There was a radio on his vest. 

You scrambled for the radio and traced the wire up to his ear, very carefully removing it and cleaning it off before sticking it in your own ear. 

"Gaz, how copy?" The man on the other end sounded stiff, almost angry. 

Gaz must be your new friend. You swallowed, studying the radio for a moment before you found the button that would let you talk to them. "He's unconscious," you said, voice a little shakier than you liked. 

For a moment, there was absolute silence. You almost feared the radio hadn't worked. 

"Who is this?" Now he sounded pissed, voice a low growl. 

You swallowed again but gave him your first name. "He was with me when the floor gave out. He was trying to get me out." 

Silence again, long enough this time that your hands started shaking. You didn't take your gaze off of Gaz, watching him breathe. 

"Okay," the man said, speaking a little more gently now. "Where are you?"

"Under the warehouse." You didn't look up again. You couldn't. 

"What's your situation?" His calm was helping you, slowing your breathing. 

"Um. He's not waking up, I haven't moved him. He's not bleeding anywhere except his head, and that's already stopped. I haven't moved him." 

"Good," he rumbled. "And you?"

You stalled for a moment mentally. "I'm… holding together." You clenched your jaw to keep back the probably hysterical giggle that wanted to burst out. 

"I need you to inform me if you start to feel dizzy, light headed, anything like that. Can you do that?" He kept his voice steady and calm. 

You breathed deeply and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." 

"Good. Stay where you are, do not attempt to climb out yourself." 

"Not a chance," you agreed, maybe only a little hysterical. You swallowed hard. Twice. "Staying put right here." 

"Good. I'll update you when I can. Stay calm. We will get you out. Copy?"

"Copy." You let the radio fall to your lap. Your fingers were numb, but you couldn't tell if that was cold, blood loss, or shock. 

Whatever it was, you didn't have the mental capacity to deal with it. You just focused on breathing for a little bit. 

And then you tried tapping Gaz's cheek again. "Hey," you murmured, leaning very carefully down closer to him. "I'd really like it if you woke up, buddy." 

He still didn't wake. Your next exhale came out shaky and wet. 

"You should have just left," you whispered to him. "You didn't need to walk me out, you know." You huffed something close to a laugh. "I'd say I'd have been fine, but I probably wouldn't have been." You touched his cheek again gently, frowning just a little. 

You had nothing but time at the moment so you distracted yourself by studying him. He was handsome, very much so. You thought you remembered that he had kind eyes, too. 

But you really just wanted him to wake up. Any time now. 

The radio crackled and you flinched at the sudden noise. "We're working on digging you out," came the man's voice, steady and calm. "I need you to watch for any shifting in the debris above you."

"Okay," you agreed, licking your lips. "Got it." You tipped your head back, watching above you. You could hear the scrape and shift of concrete and metal now, sending your heart pounding faster. But nothing moved above you, only bits of dust falling through the cracks. 

Gaz groaned softly and you immediately dropped your gaze to him, one hand fluttering over his chest. 

"Easy does it," you murmured, watching him anxiously. "Don't try to get up yet." 

His eyes fluttered a few times before he finally opened them fully, looking up at you. "What…?" He blinked slowly. 

"We fell," you told him, hand pressing lightly on his chest. "Your friends are working on getting us out, but I need you to stay still." 

He was quiet for a few moments, looking at you. "Okay," he agreed, a little hoarse. 

Dust filtered down to the two of you, and you wrenched your gaze up, a little panicked. But everything looked okay, nothing looked in danger of moving. 

Honestly, you weren't sure how comforting that actually was, considering at least some of that stuff would have to move in order for you and Gaz to get out. 

"Watch that block," Gaz piped up, nearly giving you a heart attack. But you spotted the one he was concerned about and frowned, eyeing the pieces around it. 

His worry proved to be completely founded when that chunk started sliding as something else was moved. 

"Wait," you yipped, briefly scrambling for the radio. "Hang on, there's a piece shifting down here." 

"Where?" 

"Uh." You eyed the distance, frowning. "Maybe four feet to my left? It's a big piece, maybe two feet by six feet, rebar sticking out of it." 

There was a soft grunt. "I see it," he agreed. "Keep an eye on it." 

You swallowed but watched. That piece shifted a bit, and then slowly lifted up and out of place. You breathed out slowly, the new gap allowing more light into the space. You refused to look down at yourself, instead taking the chance to look at Gaz again. 

"Is that Price?" He asked softly when you looked at him. 

"I dunno," you answered honestly. "He didn't give me a name." 

"Give me the radio." He held out one hand with a little smile. "Won't move yet, I promise." 

You hesitated for a moment but handed over the radio, cleaning off the earpiece for him. His eyes crinkled with his smile, and you couldn't help but smile in return, though you were sure yours was small and shaky in comparison. 

"Cap," Gaz said. Then he huffed a little laugh. "Not broken yet, sir." 

You looked away, slumping forward to give yourself a little break. Twisting that way had done nothing for your ribs, and you still ached everywhere. But at least breathing was no problem. 

"Think I'm alright," Gaz said from behind you. Then he huffed. "Alright, yeah, apart from the concussion." 

Right. Concussion. You wouldn't be surprised if you had one of those too. The whole falling through the floor thing tended to not be kind to bodies. 

"Right. We'll sit tight here then." Gaz sounded amused so things couldn't be that awful. 

"Just have to wait for rescue?" You asked, glancing back at him over your shoulder. 

"Pretty much." His eyes closed again and he breathed slowly. "You doing alright?"

"As well as can be expected." You breathed in slowly, lifting your gaze to the rubble above the two of you again. "Not exactly how I expected today to go." 

He chuckled quietly. "I bet." One of his hands touched your arm, and you looked back at him to find compassionate eyes already fixed on you. "You're doing really well. Being very brave." 

You smiled, lifting your hand to take his. "Oh, I'm definitely still freaking out, but I couldn't freak out and keep an eye on you." 

He laughed quietly. "Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared, just means you're not letting that stop you." 

"Well, you'd know better than I would." You squeezed his hand gently. "How are you feeling? Really." 

"Head is killing me," he admitted easily, eyes closing again. "Don't think there's anything else wrong, though. Everything hurts, which means I can feel everything." 

"Well that's one way to find a silver lining." You licked your lips. "You're gonna take time to recover after this, right? Concussions are no joke, and you were unconscious for a while." 

His hand squeezed yours, thumb rubbing across your skin. It was… incredibly soothing, actually. "I promise," he agreed. "Captain will make sure of it." 

"Good. I'm glad." You winced when another piece of rubble shifted and then lifted away. 

"You have anyone to help you? After this?" 

"Physically or mentally?" You asked, aiming for glib but hitting melancholy. 

"Both." His tone shifted to something a little more soothing. 

You swallowed and shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I live alone. But it's fine, work will let me take a little time off for this." 

His hand tightened around yours. "You should give me your number." 

"What?" You blinked, looking back at him, eyes wide. 

"So we can keep each other company while we're recovering." He smiled up at you, eyes crinkling, warm and almost fond. 

"That sounds like the concussion talking." You leaned back to get closer to him, concerned. 

"It's not." He lifted his free hand, hesitating before he touched your cheek, feather light. "It's okay if you don't want to. But I'd love to talk to you more." He grinned suddenly. "Especially when we're not both stuck somewhere." 

You huffed a little laugh, leaning your cheek very carefully into his hand. "If you still want my number when we're out of here, I'll give it to you," you agreed. 

"I'll hold you to that." He rubbed his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. This was probably a terrible idea, but it had been a terrible day and you wanted something comforting. Right at that moment, Gaz was your only option. Then his hand left your cheek and you blinked your eyes open to see him press on his radio. "Copy. How long do you think?" 

You sat up again, clearing your throat. The hole up above you was bigger now, but still not big enough to get out of. They were definitely making progress though, and you'd take it. 

"Rog. We're alright here." His hand squeezed yours, a comforting reminder that you weren't alone. And a less than comforting reminder that nobody else was aware of your full situation just yet. 

"Good news?" You asked, forcing yourself to keep watching the hole in the ceiling. 

"They're pausing to assess the rubble," Gaz admitted. "But Price doesn't think it will be a long delay." 

"Okay." You breathed in deep and then carefully laid back, keeping hold of Gaz's hand. 

"Tired?" 

"A bit." You shrugged, grimacing at the feel of grit under your shoulders. "What's your favorite color?" 

"What?" He sounded startled. 

"I need something to distract me, and at the moment you're it. Plus you're not supposed to sleep after a concussion like that, right? So really I'm doing us both a favor." You tipped your head to shoot him a cheeky grin. 

He chuckled. "And that's the best you could come up with?" 

"You got a better suggestion?" 

"Yeah." He shifted carefully so he could meet your gaze more easily. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?" 

"I'm not that interesting," you demurred, warming and looking away. 

"I don't care." He squeezed your hand, tugging gently until you looked at him again. "Tell me whatever you're comfortable with." 

You blinked but started speaking, quietly, slowly at first. But the lack of judgment from him made you more comfortable. And he asked good questions, keeping you talking. 

At least until someone called down to the two of you. 

"Doin' alright down there?" This voice was new, with a Scottish accent. 

"We're good," Gaz called back. "Thirsty, though." 

"We're almost ready to come get you," the Scot said, sounding amused. "Won't be long." 

You breathed out slowly. You should say something. You should tell them. They were going to find out sooner or later, as soon as they sent someone down for the two of you. You needed to tell them. 

"Hey, hey," Gaz murmured, alarmed. "Sweetheart. Look at me." 

Your eyes opened - when had you even closed them? Your breath hitched when you looked at Gaz, concern writ large on his face. 

"It's okay. It'll be okay. They're almost to us, yeah? We won't be here much longer." He tugged your hand, linking his fingers with yours. "C'mere, sweetheart." 

Your breath hitched again, and you realized with dim surprise that you were crying. And had been for at least a minute, based on the dampness of your cheeks. "I… can't." 

"What?" He sat up a little and then froze. Completely froze. Then he swallowed, hard enough you could see his Adam's apple bob. "Oh, sweetheart." 

You closed your eyes again, holding tight to his hand as the panic resurfaced. This was so bad, you knew it was so bad, but you'd been doing so well at not thinking about it. 

"Captain, we have a problem." Gaz had steadied his voice, at least. 

But his captain didn't respond on the radio as you'd expected. "What kind of problem?" He sounded closer than you expected, and a quick peek up showed that he was crouching near the edge of the hole. 

"She's got a piece of rebar through her calf," Gaz replied. "Mid-way down. Goes all the way through." 

"Fucking hell." Price shifted his weight, coming a little nearer to the edge. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

You swallowed hard. "Couldn't," you muttered, hoping Gaz would pass along the message for you. But you couldn't make your voice any louder. "There was nothing I could do and I couldn't think about it without freaking out." 

Gaz did indeed relay your words, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your hand. 

Price exhaled hard. "We'll figure it out when we get down there," he decided. "Twenty minutes." 

"Copy that." Gaz didn't release you, instead scooting over closer to you. "Hear that? They're almost ready. We'll make sure you get out of here. Okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, voice small. A deep breath and you were able to nod. "But you better not be doing anything to aggravate your head." 

"I'm not," he soothed. "Can you sit up for me?"

You sniffled once but sat up, refusing to let go of his hand. He didn't even try, just smiling at you. 

"There we go." His free hand lifted to your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "How do you feel?"

You gave the question a moment of thought. "Tired. Sore." You glanced down at your leg and immediately away again. "Scared." 

He wordlessly tucked your head down against his shoulder. "We'll be okay," he whispered, like if he believed it hard enough he could bend the universe to his will. "We both will." 

You sat there quietly, soaking up the comfort he freely offered, starting to shiver a little. You had no idea what time it was, and big lights had been set up above, so you had no natural light to work off of. But the temperature was dropping. 

Either that or you were still losing blood, which was a very scary possibility. 

"Coming down," Price called. You opened your eyes to watch him come down a rope, landing in a clear spot near your feet. Oh. He was muttonchops from earlier in the day. He looked between the two of you before he moved next to Gaz, kneeling. "Sitrep?" 

"I'm alright," Gaz murmured. "Head hasn't fallen off yet." 

"Cheeky." But Price's lips twitched in a smile. "We'll get you up first."

"No." 

Price paused, raising one eyebrow at Gaz's blunt refusal. Some form of communication passed between the two, although you couldn't follow it. But it ended with Price blowing out a breath through his nose and nodding once. Then he stood and moved down by your feet, examining your leg and the piece of rebar. "Have you tried moving?" 

It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. "Only once." You shrugged. 

He nodded, brow pulled into a tight furrow as he leaned further down. "Right." He sat back on his heels. "Soap, bring down the bolt cutters." 

Another man joined you three in the hole, mohawk a bit disheveled and dusty. "Alright?" He asked, smiling easily at you. 

"Oh, you know," you managed, flapping one hand. 

He just nodded and crouched down next to Price, handing over the bolt cutters. 

"Hey," Gaz whispered, tugging your hand gently. "Don't look at them. Focus on me, yeah?" 

"Okay." You swallowed but obediently kept your gaze on him, trying not to listen to the quiet discussion taking place by your feet. "What are you going to do with your unplanned vacation?" 

He smiled a little. "I've got a few ideas," he murmured. "There's this girl, yeah? Don't know her well yet but I'd love to spend time getting to know her." He winked at you. 

You laughed a little, feeling heat rush to your face. "I dunno, she could be some crazy person." 

"I don't think so." His gaze was warm as he smiled at you, leaning in a little closer. "She might be lacking a sense of self-preservation, though."

"You… might be right." You dropped your gaze, feeling shaky again. Your sharp inhale had nothing to do with emotion and everything to do with your leg moving as the rebar was cut loose from the cement below. 

"That part's done," Price said, probably a little louder than he needed to. "Next step is getting you up there." 

You eyed the rope warily. "I hope you've got a plan." 

"You won't have to do anything," Price assured you. "We'll get a harness on you and hoist you up." 

"Joy." But your voice wavered, and you held Gaz's hand too tightly. He smoothed his thumb over your knuckles. 

"They've got you, sweetheart," he murmured. "Promise." 

"Okay." You took a deep breath and nodded once. 

Truthfully, you had to do very little. They worked together to get the harness on you, and Soap steadied you as you were hoisted up. More hands grabbed you at the top, and you barely had time to wince in pain before you were on a stretcher. 

"Wait," you begged the paramedic before he could start to move the stretcher. "I want to make sure my friend gets up okay." 

His gaze softened and he nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "But I'm gonna move you back here out of the way, don't need anyone bumping into you." 

You nodded, watching eagerly until Gaz appeared. He was a little pale but otherwise okay, and he even managed to get to the stretcher partially under his own power. 

Relieved, you relaxed back against your stretcher and nodded. Okay. You were satisfied. 

It wasn't until sometime the next day as you were waking up properly for the first time since you'd gone into surgery that you remembered you were supposed to give him your phone number. 

Not that you actually had time to mourn the loss of… whatever that may have been. The nurse had just left after checking on you when there was a knock on the door, and then it swung open slowly. 

Gaz absolutely beamed at you from his spot in a wheelchair, Soap behind him pushing him further in. 

"You're here," you whispered, eyes wide, one hand reaching for him without permission. 

"Price insisted on overnight observation," Gaz said, taking your hand as soon as he was close enough. "Since I was unconscious for a while." 

"And you're okay?" You looked him over quickly, biting your lip. 

"I will be." He leaned closer, his other hand covering yours. 

"Good." You relaxed a little, smiling finally. "That's good." 

"Shout when you need a lift," Soap said, tapping Gaz's shoulder before backing towards the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." And he was gone, cackling, before Gaz could properly turn around to glare at him. 

You huffed a laugh, leaning closer to him. "I'm glad you're okay," you whispered, a bit abashed. 

"I'm glad you'll be okay." He closed the distance, leaning in until he could press his forehead to yours. 

"Yeah." You smiled. "I will be." It was the first time you'd really believed that since you'd been grabbed in the park. 

You knew exactly how you wanted to thank the reason for your confidence, too. 

[hotwritergf]

I have a habbit of messing up peoples names, ive called my mom my brothers name. Sometimes ill start with someone elses name and correct myself like sara-mily or i get it early so its just the first letter like saying ch-steve

I was just thinking about bestfriends eddie x reader where reader accidentally calls eddie daddy because theyre so similar. She goes to say a d name but catches herself and says eddie. She was talking fast and didnt even catch herself saying it until eddies like "did you just call me daddy?"

Accidentally calling Eddie ‘Daddy’. Eddie Munson x female reader. Blurb. Fluff.

I hope this is okay, I’m sick at the moment so it’s kinda self indulgent but I tried to personalise it a bit for you!

The night was like any other of yours and Eddie’s movie nights. Bags of candy spilled out on the floor, blankets swallowing you both up and a blunt being passed between you. Today was tiring, work couldn’t be more stressful and of course you were understaffed. Eddie came to pick you up at closing time, he already had your cup of tea in his cup-holder. It was the small things you appreciated the most from your best friend.

You had your head on his chest, because Eddie said “it will help your migraine I promise.” You wanted to believe him but the smirk on his face just showed he wanted to look after you. Eddie held his palm to your forehead, “you’re burning up a little, I’ll get you some medicine. Wait right here.” He ushers himself out from the blankets and into the kitchen. Rooting through the cupboards as you pause the movie, he reappears holding a bottle and a medicine spoon. Pouring the contents onto the spoon, “open up darling” he smirks as he feeds you.

You wince at the taste of the bitter medicine, swiftly taking a swig of your soda to wash away the taste. Wiping your mouth you whisper, “thank you d-daddy” “e-Eddie I meant Eddie!!” Your face flushes immediately, wanting the ground to swallow you up as you blurt out your sentence. Your brain was on auto pilot and Eddie and Daddy sounded far too similar for your mouth to comprehend whilst you’re suffering so bad with your migraine.

“What was that? Did you just call me daddy?” Eddie smirks, teasing you as he pulls your hands away from your blushing face.

“I- no! The words got scrambled in my head m’sorry I’m so embarrassed, I’m sorry.” You pull away from Eddie’s touch, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your head on them. Terrified that you’ve ruined your friendship, how could Eddie not see you differently after calling him that? A word so not-inherently bad but turned kinky and shameful, he could assume you’re into that. Not that it would be a bad thing to be kinky, you just weren’t.

“Hey hey hey.” Eddie pulls at your arms, “just look at me.” His voice is like velvet, so comforting but you’re shaking. Wishing you could be ignorant and never face this issue. “Come on princess, just want to see you smile.” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

You stick to your guns, refusing to move and face him. “You leave me no choice then, I didn’t want to do this sweetheart. But you asked for this..” Eddie coos into your ear before teasing his fingers over your neck, ghosting over your skin and down to your sides. He pokes and prods your ribs, flailing back into Eddie’s chest, trying to swat at his hands to put an end to his ticklish assault.

“Okay! Okay!” You plead, holding on to Eddie’s wrists and looking deep into his eyes. He stills his hands, holding yours and dropping them into his lap. “I didn’t mean to say it Eddie, honestly.” Your voice stuttering as you whimpered. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously, I understand. You do that a lot with words, I’ve seen it. You’re okay. It’s okay. We’re okay.” A mischievous smile spreads over his face when he sees you let go of the breath you’ve been holding for the entire moment. Sighing, you let yourself smile, feeling safe knowing that Eddie doesn’t judge you.

“There’s that smile. Gotta hear that laugh too, you know, for daddy?” He teases before jumping on top of you and tickling you again.

[luveline]

Steve zombie au with reader getting hurt at the new camp (like always) and Eddie offering support as a friend but Steve gets all jealous while trying to take care of HIS girl

for you my love ♡ steve zombie au —steve is riddled with guilty jealousy as you and eddie become friends. fem!reader 2k

It's a brave new world.

For starters, there are enough guns at camp and able bodied gunmen for fires in the daytime. There are warm meals eaten under the sun, songs sung quietly but nonetheless sung around the fire. There are happy children. There are books to be read to them, and batteries to power flashlights for story time under the stars. 

Things aren't perfect, but after the tragedy of The College, things are good enough. Steve can bring himself to leave your side (though not for the first few days where he's bed bound, and not for a few more after that). 

He can't lie, he hates that you like Eddie so much. His jealousy is a raging monster of stiff spines and dry eye twitches, insecurity that you've met someone new and that you trust them so quickly. 

You were cagey at The College, scared of Steve's friends and petrified Steve was going to break up with you. He couldn't understand at the time how you would ever think such a thing, but now, with Eddie sitting by your knee and a piece of string between his fingers weaving a cat's cradle, your eyes alight with delight, Steve gets it. He totally gets it. 

"It's not hard," Eddie promises you, letting the string fall from his fingers and into your lap. 

"I don't have a complicated brain," you say. 

"It's not rocket science. Even Steve can do it." 

Steve picks an overcooked Lima bean up from his discarded dinner tray and aims to flick it between Eddie's eyes. You're gathered around the campfire in your cold weather coats, a procession of young (ish) adults knee to knee chatting away the worthless hours. When the Lima bean smacks Eddie in the cheek, Steve could pin it on any number of the people gathered. Christopher is a renowned professional when it comes to bothering people, and Jonathan has that older brother's penchant for being irksome, but Steve owns up to it. 

"That's a touchdown." 

Eddie gives him the finger as he instructs you, completely unbothered. "It's those two fingers– No– Yeah, you got it. And then push this finger under this, and this finger… Nice." 

In another life, there's a Steve who doesn't care. He hasn't had to vy for your attention before besides sharing your friendship with Robin, and he's pathetically sorry about it —you should have friends. Steve thinks unabashed that you're the best person they ever made. All you want (all you've ever wanted) is to be loved and to give love back. He's known that about you for a very long time. And in his eyes you deserve what you want. 

You deserve to have friends. He can share Robin, and you can have friends of your own, too. You can have everything. 

Steve can't get a handle on how it's making him feel, is the issue. He's envious as a teenager with their first crush. 

"You honestly just need to practise," Eddie assures you, laying back in the grass with his arms behind his head. 

"You'll have to show me again." 

You stay sitting and Eddie shows you the pattern again without sitting up. You aren't flirting with one another. Steve wonders if that would feel better, to be jealous of something substantial, but you're doing normal things. Eddie is treating you with exactly the kindness and friendship you deserve. Steve wishes he managed it himself when you first met, because you're his best love and his best friend. 

Robin not included. (Robin is always included. Steve would die for her.) 

Like she can sense his devotion, Robin puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling his weight gently to the left. "You'll burn a hole in his leather jacket." 

"I hope he catches on fire." 

"What are you so worried about? She had plenty of chances to leave you for somebody new. Jonathan's been nothing but sweet to her the entire time they've known one another and she barely notices." 

Steve grimaces. "Jonathan likes her too?" 

"He wants to be her friend, just like Eddie. I, on the other hand, want to marry her." 

"Funny." Steve yanks grass up from its roots, the blades soft and cold between his fingers. There's an ice patch growing on his ass and thighs from the cold as the temperature drops. "It's fucking cold." 

"You can move closer. I need to go and find Sarah for a bit. Don't burn your new kicks, Steve, they were a great trade." 

Robin swapped a useless handgun for them to the resident portable blacksmith. Steve wriggles his toes in them gratefully. 

Steve and the remaining group move closer to the fire slowly. When the sky is black and smooth as velvet dotted only by stars like pin holes, Will comes running with a miraculous bag of marshmallows, trailed by his ragtag group of friends; Dustin with his fraying hat, Lucas, and a teenaged boy named Peter. 

Steve couldn't believe Lucas was alive at first. Eddie told the story to him when he was recovering in the shitty portable medbay. You'd been sleeping in the plastic chair by Steve's bed, your face pressed to his chest, a puddle of drool soaking into his t-shirt. He'd stroked your forehead for hours. 

Eddie and a whole bunch of Hellfire members didn't quite manage the escape rendezvous orchestrated by Hopper at the start of the apocalypse. You and Steve must have just missed them when they set out in Eddie's van for safety. The story goes that Eddie's shit with directions, and while he managed to get to Michigan eventually, it was hard. They met up with a group of much older people who were able to take some of the weight off, eventually finding a group of military soldiers who'd been drafted to protect a politician's family. Their group kept growing and growing. While they never set up camp somewhere permanent, they've kept it together. If Eddie's group (or moving community) had managed to make it to The College, Steve thinks they might have survived the attack.  

But you're together now. Hawkinites reunited, Hopper alive and well and nursing new plans. 

"Hopper give those to you?" Christopher asks Will. 

"How's that fair?" Eddie asks. "Family favouritism." 

"I have to share them," Will says. 

"Oh, well. Never mind. Accusation renounced." 

The teens kidnap Eddie and run off to find sticks for marshmallow roasting. You turn to Steve with a smile that makes him feel worse rather than better, so subtly devoted. 

"How's your arm?" you ask, leaning into his shoulder. 

"Aches." 

"Can I have a look?" you ask. 

Steve offers his arm with no qualms. You fight to push back the sleeve of his coat and jacket. His wound is closed and healing nicely, but the infection must've been in his muscle or something because the ache won't go away. It feels as though he's done a hundred pull ups with one arm alone. 

You don't touch anywhere near the site. 

"I think it's looking better." You thumb over one of his little moles. "Pretty." 

"You're pretty." 

"You're prettier," you say, folding his sleeves down again with infinite care. He thinks you might be batting your lashes at him. That, or he's whipped to the point of delusion. "You feel okay, hm? You're mopey tonight. Do you want to go sleep?" 

Steve shakes his head vehemently. "And miss marshmallows? No way." 

You both notice that your question of mood went unanswered. Luckily for him, you dip down to rub your cheek against his sleeve. "Love you." 

He loves you too. He says it under his breath, pressing his cheek to your head for as long as you're willing to stay there. 

"Y/N-kins, Steven," Eddie says, returning with a handful of long branches covered in foliage. "I have a job for you." 

You pull leaves off of the branches. It should be an easy job with the three of you sitting criss cross applesauce yanking the twigs naked excitedly, but you pull with too much enthusiasm and stab the meat of your thumb. 

You hiss and look down. Your noise draws Eddie and Steve's attention in tandem, Eddie closest to the injured hand. 

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He presses it to your skin as a surprisingly fat rivulet of blood springs and drips down to your wrist. "Here, don't get it on your clean coat." 

Steve doesn't know why he does it. He isn't proud. But he thinks, That's my girl. Eddie's being friendly, and Steve knows that's all it is, but he can't stop himself from batting Eddie's hand away and moving in protectively. 

"Cop a feel somewhere else, Munson," he bites. 

"Steve!" you say, laughing. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, sitting back in his spot with a laugh of his own. "Ridiculous. I wouldn't cop a feel ever 'cos I respect women–" 

"Nice," you say. 

"And if I were trying to flirt with her, Harrington, I'd definitely do it better. But as you both know my heart is promised to someone very important. I'm busy keeping the memory of metal alive, I don't have time for stealing girlfriends. Not that you're not worth stealing, Y/N." 

Steve dabs your hand. You wink at Eddie playfully. "You keep her alive, Eddie. Are you gonna play some more rock songs for us tonight?" 

"Duh." 

"How do you manage to hurt yourself every single day?" Steve asks, distracted from the conversation by your cut. It can't be a quarter of an inch long but it's bleeding in a rush. 

"See how it got faster when you came to save me?" you ask Steve. His heart drops, but you continue, "My heart gets faster when you're close. My blood pressure rises." 

Steve tries not to show how pleased he feels at the compliment. You tap his elbow knowingly. 

Steve assesses your cut. It stops bleeding just as soon as he leaves it alone and the kids arrive with their marshmallows, putting an end to Steve's makeshift medbay. 

Someone puts a couple more logs on the fire to get it roaring now that night is creeping in. Steve insists on roasting a marshmallow for you. 

"I have one working hand left," you protest. 

"And knowing your luck, you'll burn it." 

"I'd never control you like that," Eddie says, deadpan.

Steve stabs Eddie with a stick that's lightly smouldering at the tip. You tell Steve off, but when he presents you with a roasted marshmallow for eating you give him the world's greatest thank you kiss. Another after you've eaten it, your lips sticky with sugar. 

"Do you want mine?" Steve asks. 

You wrap your arm around his waist for a lopsided hug. "No. Don't ask me again though, I might say yes." 

"Do you want mine? Seriously, honey–" 

"I'll have it," Eddie says with a shit-eating smile, eyes trained on the fire where he toasts his own marshmallow. 

You wave your hand at him. "No, you won't." You lift your chin to kiss his cheek. "It's yours. Don't let it burn, handsome." 

Alright, Steve might have jumped the gun on the whole jealousy thing. 

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Fight Club [Frank's Version]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader x Frank Castle

Summary: If this seems familiar, that's cause it is. When @hellskitchenswhore sent this prompt I gave two options: Either Matt fucks you before your next session so he's dripping out of you while you're training with Frank so you "remember who you belong to" ORRRRRR he busts up your session and you end up having a three way with him and Frank in the gym. She chose the former but the later has honestly been bouncing around my brain since then and I finally wrote it. The fic is the same until Matt follows reader to the gym, then the fun begins...

Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering and hand job, Oral (M & F receiving,) THREE WAY! A TRIP TO PARIS!, P in V, Creampie, etc.

WC: 7,200

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you. 

You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.

“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag

“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”

“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”

“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”

It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.

Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.

Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice. 

You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)

In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym

“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”

“Why don’t you just ask Red?”

“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”

“Okay, can I ask why not?”

“You can but I’m not gonna answer.” 

Frank chuckled and shook his head

“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”

“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”

“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”

“9:00”

“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”

And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.

“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again

“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest

“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”

“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.”

By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.

‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.

You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back. 

“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep

“Morning sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine

“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”

“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”

“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires

His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.

“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.” 

All truths.

“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go

Perfect.

As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.

Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder? 

‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.

But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar. 

It takes another week for him to ask you about it.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner 

“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply

“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”

“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague

“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”

“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.” 

Also technically the truth.

“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”

‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.

Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.

Frank.

“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks

“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level

“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments

“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”

“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”

And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?

After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.

He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit. 

You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day. 

Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.

The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night. 

Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt. 

You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes. 

“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders. 

“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”

“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”

You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”

The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.

When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck. 

‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself. 

But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him. 

Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank. 

But how could you smell like… 

And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot. 

You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home. 

Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do. 

Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?

The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake. 

You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first. 

“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds

That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy. 

Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.

“Matt. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response. 

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”

“So did you ask her?”

“Well no but…” 

“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”

And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated. 

Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.  

Matt still hasn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little do you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym. 

“Hey Frank!” you call out as you enter

“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms

Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside. 

You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room. 

“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”

“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”

Matt knew it. He fucking knew it. 

“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”

“No, I don’t”

“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”

“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”

Matt’s heart drops. 

How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him.  But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was. 

“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days. I'm sure you could give Red a run for his money.” 

“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll

In that moment, Matt decided this had gone far enough. He needed to come clean. He slipped quietly through the door into the studio. 

“Oh I think she absolutely could, Frank. Especially if you’ve been teaching her”

Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you. Both you and Frank jump with a gasp and whip your heads to look at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, standing in front of you. 

“Matt… I” 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask

“Shit Red, you been here this whole time?” Frank asks nonchalantly 

Matt nods, shame painted on his face.

“Matt, I can explain…”

“No. I need to explain.” Matt holds a hand up, interrupting your thought  “I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” 

Frank scoffs and holds back a low chuckle while your face softens in empathy.

“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”

“Really Red, you think I’m that kind of guy?”

“No... I don’t know.”

“Nah, wouldn’t lay a finger on your girl. Unless it was okay with you.”

Matt shakes his head.

“Now that I’m here though, I wouldn’t say no to a little demonstration of what you’ve been teaching her.”

Frank immediately looks to you, reading the signs on your face to make sure it’s okay. You nod. Now that Matt knows, its time to show him.

“Kay sweetheart, just a few rounds on the bag. Like we been practicing.” Frank reassures

You step up to the bag and look to Frank once more. A soft smile spreads across his face and he nods in encouragement. 

You take a few swings. Jab, Cross, Left hook. Like Frank normally has you do. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.

“Woah woah woah. Frank, you’ve been letting her hit like this and not correcting her form?”

“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with her form?”

“She’s too far away from the bag.” Matt places his hands on your shoulders, maneuvering you with slight adjustments and positions his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. “I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”

You take a few more swings. Matt’s breath is against your ear and you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core. God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few swings you’ve taken. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.

“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”

Frank throws his arms up in offense as you try a few more punches.

“See? More power, less effort.”

You grin, happy to finally be sharing something Matt is clearly so knowledgeable and passionate about with him. Craning your neck, you mesh your lips with his in excitement and only pull away when Frank loudly clears his throat and you remember that he is still there watching the two of you.

“Eh, so you gave her a minor tweak. Still say how I had her doing it was perfectly fine.”

Matt finally steps away from you, turning to face Frank.

“Sure Castle, but I think the real testament to your teaching skills is how she does with an actual partner.”

Matt turns his attention back to you. His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.

“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks

“A few. Landed some of them too.”

“Let her show you Murdock, maybe she can knock that cocky attitude out of you like I never could.”

Matt chuckles and shakes his head. He steps away from you, holding out a hand and leading you to the center of the room, the area in the gym dedicated to partner sparring.

You stand a few feet apart from your boyfriend, nervous to demonstrate on him. You’re not arrogant enough to think just a few weeks of training with Frank puts you anywhere near Matt’s skill level. But you also know that Matt loves you and will probably take it easy on you just to be supportive and also not hurt you, so you may just be able to get a few swings in. You don’t need the guilt of piling onto his already long list of previous injuries and scars.

Frank approaches behind you, placing a hand on your arm in reassurance as he leans close to your ear.

“Remember that knee to crotch move I showed you last week? The one I said to only use if some creep comes at you head on and you need to take him out quick?” 

You nod, already shifting your feet towards the set up position for that move, trying to activate the muscle memory to bring it back into your brain.

“Well” Frank continued, “might not be a bad time to try it.”

You chuckle at his suggestion.

“Frank, you know Matt can hear all of this right?” 

You glance over at your boyfriend, amused smirk painted across his lips as he stretches his perfectly toned bicep across his chest, warming up for your little face off. He’s discarded his tight black shirt in a pile beside him. A cheap bid to distract you from the task at hand with his incredible body that he knows you can’t resist.

“Yeah, just figure if he wants to be a jealous fucker why not rile him up some more? Plus it’s the least he deserves for thinking the worst from you and I, of all people.”

You try not to laugh at the statement. Frank’s askew moral compass being perfectly fine with the regular amount of murder he commits, but thinking being a taken woman’s side piece crosses a line.

He squeezes the hand still resting on your bicep in reassurance before stepping away with a wink, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, radiating from the point where the warmth of his touch still lingers. Frank always keeps it incredibly professional around you and you know he is pushing against the line of flirting just to get into Matt’s head.

“Ready sweetheart?” Matt asks as you step towards him, gloved fists by your face prepared to fight

“Yeah” you reply and Matt also assumes his stance, nodding in your direction as a go ahead

“Ding ding, round one!” Frank remarks

You go for the right hook first, but Matt easily blocks the hit. You throw a few more punches, all of which Matt dodges and blocks without looking like he’s putting any effort into it. He’s cocky and sly in the way that he moves, refusing to even take one swing at you but making you work stupidly hard just to get nowhere.

Fine. New strategy, you decide.

Swinging a roundhouse knee in the air, you connect directly with his ribs. The oof sounds he lets out gives you a rush of adrenaline knowing you legitimately got a hit on him. It’s incredibly short lived as he’s quick to recover. Rushing towards you, he tackles you to the mat, knocking the wind out of your lungs as your ribs connect with the floor. He’s pinned you to the point where you can barely squirm, knee pressed firmly between your legs while his arms cage you in place.

“Nice try baby, but not good enough.” he whispers in your ear, shifting his leg to provide just a little friction against your core

“Woah, take it easy on her. She’s still a beginner. She’s here to learn, not have you be an asshole to her about something you thought she did.” Frank interjects, pulling Matt off of you

“Just cause you take it easy on her Frank, doesn’t mean I have to. She wants to learn, then let her learn with a real opponent, not just you going easy on her cause she makes your dick too hard to think straight.”

“Woah!” you interject, ripping the boxing gloves off your hands while still flat on your back

“Jesus, Red” Frank exclaims as he offers out a hand to get you back on your feet

“Oh come on Frank, you’ve been hard since she walked in here. Just because you’re not banging my girlfriend doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about it. I can hear it rub against your pants every time you move. You’re a weirdo, but not nearly weird enough to show up to a gym in jeans unless you had a reason.”

“Look, I’d never…” Frank stumbles over his words, redness creeping up his neck as it tenses with every clench of his jaw

Your pulse is thumping loudly in your ears at Matt’s observation, skin flushed with heat in both embarrassment for Frank who is still stammering beside you and also a little flattered that you so effortlessly turn him on so much.

“Never? Even with my permission?” Matt inquires

Frank’s pupils grow wide at Matt’s suggestion

“Woah, hold up Matt. Permission?” you loudly exclaim, offended at Matt’s implication “Like you own me?! I’m my own person, what about my damn permission?!”

Matt scoffs at your statement and steps toward you, spinning you around so your back is once more pressed against him and you are now facing Frank, who is hesitant to look up. His gaze transfixed on the floor as he tries to find the words to refute Matt’s claims. You didn’t think sheepish was a word one could ever use to describe Frank Castle, nor did you think he’d ever back down from a fight with Matt, even a verbal one.

“Okay sweetheart, let’s talk about you then.” Matt speaks lowly, damp bare skin of his rising and falling chest pressing into your back as he speaks, his own hardness obvious as he pulls your body flush against his

“While I appreciate that you haven’t crossed any lines since you started training, that doesn't mean you’re not enjoying these nightly sessions with Frank. Your heartbeat has risen every time he's been within a foot of you or complimented your progress tonight.” 

His voice rumbles against the skin of your neck, right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings. For some reason, you don’t stop him, feeling a little shy but letting him tease you in front of Frank.

“And you want to talk about how wet you were when I first got here?” he continues “I could practically smell you from blocks away. Frank get you that excited, hmm?”  

Frank's head snaps up at the statement and he locks eyes with you just as Matt pushes his hand all the way down, collecting the slick he was just describing on his fingers.

“Matt, I…” you attempted to protest, still watching as the lust grows in Frank’s stare while Matt runs his fingers through your folds.

There was no hiding how your body reacted to both men. The evidence drips onto Matt’s fingers as he toys with you.

“No, it’s okay sweetheart.” he reassures, placing a few kisses on your neck “I get it. Frank and I have always said we're two sides to the same coin. It makes sense we’d both find the same woman attractive. And that she’d want us both.”

Matt once again turns his attention to Frank, not relenting in his teasing of you as he slips a finger into your opening, causing a moan to escape from your lips.

“Go ahead, Frank” Matt says with a nod against your shoulder, “if it's okay with her, it's okay with me.”

Frank finally wills himself to step forward. Never wavering in how deeply his gaze is locked on you, he hovers his hands over your waist while Matt continues to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you, waiting for your go ahead. You nod, granting him the permission to finally act on the feelings you’ve both been resisting. 

Frank’s trembling hand finally cradles your jaw as he leans into you and softly connects his lips with yours, taking the pace slowly to give you both the space to gauge how you’re feeling.

Matt, on the other hand, is happy to move things along as he pushes another finger inside you. Immediately working his calloused digits against that spongy spot inside you that drives you wild every time. You're not sure what causes you to groan into Frank's mouth, the way Matt touches you so expertly or the tingly sensation spreading through your body as Frank’s tongue and hands begin to explore.

Matt only removes his fingers from your core momentarily to aid Frank in ridding you of your clothes, eager to assist as it now gives him so much more easy access to your sopping cunt.

Warm, wet kisses are placed all over your heated flesh from both men as Frank’s calloused fingers dance all over you, eventually resting just above Matt’s hand to work your clit while Matt picks up his pace.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a strong current against a rocky shore, hands gripping onto Frank’s forearms to hold your self steady as you ride the waves of pleasure to the end. He watches with an almost sort of reverence as you come down, indulging in every beautiful hint of pleasure painted across your face and body.

Your cunt squeezes Matt’s fingers one last time before he removes them, allowing you to fully fall into Frank’s strong form while Matt tastes the nectar of his labor. The groan that escapes his lips is sinful as he indulges in the familiar taste of you. Meanwhile Frank is stepping away from you, shirt joining Matt’s across the gym and jeans following not long after.

You were used to staring at Matt’s scarred and muscular form, but Frank’s sculpted, but slightly beefier body is also decorated with the ghosts of his past. You can’t help but salivate at how well his toned muscles look as he frees his cock and removes the last of his clothing.

He pumps himself a few times while Matt kisses you deeply, guiding you downward.

The squishy gym floor beneath you cushions your knees as you crawl on all fours towards Matt, who is shimmying out of his cargo pants and laying down before you. 

Frank follows closely as you makeout with Matt, continuing to touch himself at the sight of your bare body splayed out on the mat. He lunges forward to place a few kisses down your spine as you’re bending forward, ass in the air and inches away from taking Matt into your mouth.

As you begin to suck Matt’s length, his low moans echo out through the musty gym, lips parted in pleasure.

Once Frank is satisfied with how much you’ve got Matt worked up, he slides back up behind you, lining himself up with your entrance. You moan into Matt’s cock as Frank pushes into you.

Alternating between your mouth and your hand, you work Matt up until his eyes are pressed shut, overwhelmed by all the sensory input of Frank fucking you. Matt seizes the opportunity to sit up a little and kiss you deeply, just as Frank begins to increase the harshness of his thrusts. You can’t help but cry out in little mewls and whimpers, as Matt moves kisses down your neck and jaw and guides your lips over his cock once more. 

Your legs feel as though they may give out from under you at any moment based on how violently they’re trembling.  With Frank only increasing his rhythm and Matt now thrusting up to meet your face and running his nails along your back has you careening closer and closer to your edge once more.

Unable to hold back, you cum with a cry, Matt and Frank both lunging to put their lips all over your skin as you do, sandwiching you in a throng of sweaty flesh and ecstasy. 

Pulled fully on your knees now, Matt reaches down to where Frank was just fucking you, running his fingers through your folds again and sending your already overstimulated nerves into over drive.

The room around you now feels stifling, the heat of three bodies in such a state of activity not able to compete with the squeaky and outdated hvac system buzzing above you head. Frank and Matt are both damp, hair sticking to their flushed foreheads as their mouths hang agape in an attempt to slow their panting. Matt’s hazel eyes dart back and forth, reading the signs that both you and Frank are ready for more; the steadying of your heartbeats, the evening of your breaths, and the minuscule sounds of both your muscles relaxing as the seconds tick on. Even though you’ve leveled out a little bit, you’re still dizzy with pleasure and your heart rate surges right back up as Matt moves to position you on your back.

“Atta girl.” Frank encourages as the sticky flesh of your back meets the soft, rubbery floor. He’s laying down beside you, hands roaming over your breasts and taking a nipple into his mouth just as Matt pushes himself forward, beginning to work his tongue all over your pussy. 

The crescendo of pleasure begins to grow deep within you again, Matt knowing just how to expertly play you like a conductor leading a symphony as he kisses and sucks on your clit. He inserts a finger just as Frank grabs your jaw, shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

Frank’s kisses move down your jaw and towards your ear, whispering sweet praises while Matt continues to eat you.

“Shit sweetheart, look so pretty when you cum. Knew you would. Let me see it again, come on, all over Red’s face. Atta girl.”

While Matt is always phenomenal in bed, never have you heard him talk as filthy as Frank. Usually his moans and grunts turned you on plenty, but Frank’s words are a welcome, new sensation that has another orgasm crashing through you before you even realize its happening.

You practically shove Matt off you as you know he’d be content to just keep going until you were over stimulated to the point of tears. He chuckles and wipes away the slick you left on his mouth and chin.

“Sweetie, you want to help Frank finish while I remind you who you belong to? Hm?” Matt asks as he crawls to hover over you, lining up just the tip of his cock with your slit and causing your cunt to clench around nothing

“Yes, Matt.” you respond, propping yourself up on your elbows so Frank can have his turn fucking your mouth

Frank’s scoff is cut off with a groan of pleasure as you wrap your mouth around him and suck his length towards the back of your throat.

“What Castle?” Matt asks, still teasing your hole while he listens to you blow Frank “You think just because I’m sharing doesn’t mean she’s only mine?”

“Ah shit– I know Red. I know.” Frank replies, chin tilted down to watch the way you look up at him as you swallow him down

“Good.” Matt responds, before harshly thrusting all the way into you. 

The vibrations of your moans from how intensely you’re getting fucked, plus the sight of you taking Matt’s dick while sucking him off causes a build up in Frank much quicker than he’d like. Part of his ego doesn’t want to finish before Matt, so he guides you by the jaw off of him and resumes laying on the floor, supporting your head with his chest and guiding your hand to his hardness so he can watch the show and also help you cum a final time while staving off his own orgasm a little while longer.

“That’s it sweetheart” he coos in your ear, hand steady around your throat while you stare up into his eyes and work him over with your hand. Your skin feels on fire as they toy with you, every brush of them against you like electricity firing through your nerves.

You can tell Matt is close by the way his face is scrunched up, focusing on only the feeling of your body beneath his and trying to tune out the rest of the world around. You can only assume Frank is as well, based on how much tighter his grip has gotten around your neck as you continue to jack him off and by how his sweet praises are now replaced with grunts occasionally punctuated by a singular swear word.

Frank reaches his calloused fingers down to goad you along, rubbing your clit in smooth circles, a stark contrast to the harshness of Matt’s now faltering pace. 

The slapping of skin over and over combined with the lust-filled groans and moans all of you are making has your head spinning and your final orgasm blooms like a rose in late July, soft and warm and delicate in a way that only these two working in tandem can give you.

Frank watches as you fall apart a final time, not stopping his assault on your sensitive bud until he’s satisfied with how hard you've orgasmed.

You’re totally spent and laying back against Frank. Too distracted by how delicious every drag of Matt’s cock feels against your satisfied walls, you let him use you while you revel in the dissipating fizz of your body being so thoroughly fulfilled. Barely able to even reach up and stroke the taught muscle of Matt’s chest, you do though as a small act of gratitude for sharing you tonight and allowing you to experience such pleasure. Frank takes over for your weak and trembling hands, touching himself while kissing whatever area of your skin he can reach to bring you back down. 

Matt’s senses are overwhelmed. The smell of pure sex invades his nostrils and he can still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm in the light pulses of your velvety walls every time he drives into you. Frank’s musky scent blends so beautifully with your natural, floral smell and hearing your satisfied sighs being breathed into Frank's soft kisses is the most beautiful music he’s ever heard. Your hands trace down from his chest and rest on the back of his thighs, encouraging him to find his nirvana as his thrusts become erratic.

“Matty.” you let out in a breathy lament and it finally tips him off the cliff, spilling inside you with a low moan that will echo in your ears for days to come.

Frank, unable to hold himself back any longer and cheekily pleased that he held off longer than Matt, even if it was only for a moment, spills across his stomach and chest as you kiss him through his orgasm while still stroking Matt’s skin to bring him down.

The three of you collapse side by side under the humming fluorescent lights of the gym, labored breathing finally slowing as you all come back to reality.

“Tell you what Red, that was a hell of a warm up for your girl. Ain’t that right sweetheart?” Frank finally speaks up, gravely voice cutting through the silence.

“You’ve got to be kidding Frank, I am not training tonight after all that!” you argue back

Frank turns towards you and presses a kiss to your temple before standing up and finding his clothes. 

“Matt, c’mon back me up here.” you turn to your boyfriend and watch as his signature cheeky grin spreads wide across his face.

“You know my dad and I had this mantra, this thing we’d say before every fight he had ‘It ain't how you hit the mat. It's how you get up.’ 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It means, you better get back up and do what Frank tells you.”

[wandering-winchesters]

His Hands

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 931

Summary: The thoughts the reader has about Dean's Hands.

Trigger Warnings: None

Requested: No.

A/N: I honestly couldn't tell you where this came from and it might be awful. It was just a combination of thoughts that I had to get onto paper. Please let me know what you think :) x

Masterlist

Since I was a child, I have always been fascinated by hands. I remember a time when I would stare at the wrinkles in my grandmother's hands and imagine the life that they had endured. The stories they could tell if given the chance. She hated her hands, they were old, wrinkly, brittle and aged. A combination of words that she would use to describe her dislike for the hands that had served her for her eighty plus years. I took notice of my father's hands, the rough calluses that reflected the physical toll that his work had on him. My mother's hands, the softness in which they would brush over my skin. Any person that I met, at some point in time I would notice their hands. How they carried themselves, the motions they carried out with their hands. 

Which is why it caught me off guard the first time I had felt Dean’s hands on my skin. The first time I met him, I had watched him strangle a demon with his bare hands, not a move meant to kill it, only an attempt to satisfy Dean’s anger.

The green eyed hunters eyes were locked with the black orbs of the demons. A grin plastered across the demons face as Dean gripped tighter around his throat. I could see the rage emanating off of Dean as Sam muttered the words to the exorcism. I watched as Dean’s face contorted into one of utter fury, a yell leaving his parted lips. He only released his grip on the body, when the black plume of smoke rushed from the body shrieking as it was sent back to hell. 

I had nearly crawled inside of my skin as Dean turned his attention from the Demon that had been before him, to myself. I hadn't realized that I had pulled myself into the corner, cowered and done my best to make myself as small as possible before the two Winchester brothers. Another wave of fear had crashed over me as Dean's eyes locked with mine. I watched as he raised his bruised and battered hands in a mock surrender, his knuckles bloody and split open. They had to hurt, but they didn't seem to bother him at this moment.

At that time, I didn't know Dean from anyone on the street. My whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. I had been taken from my apartment in the middle of the night by the man that turned out to be a supernatural. He had gotten into every corner of my brain, places that I didn't even know existed. Brought every thought filled with self hatred and doubt to the forefront of my mind. That was before the two men that stood before me, had burst into the room. A fact that the demon disliked, his attention immediately focusing on the two of them instead of myself. They argued back and forth, their words spit at the other like bullets from a gun. I couldn't really tell you what they said, even to this day it is all a blur within my mind.

Dean's eyes had locked with mine, soothing words of reassurance leaving his lips. He could tell I was poised to bolt, a deer in the headlights of terror. He kept his hands where I could see them and slowly approached me. He had crouched down next to me and extended one of his hands, offering it to me to help me to my feet. I took it and was caught off guard by the gentleness that he responded with. The calluses on his fingers brushed against the inside of my wrists as he pulled me to my feet. His grip on me had been firm but unmistakably gentle, almost soft. His hands were no longer an extension to the violence that I had seen moments earlier, now they were a source of comfort.

--

Since that first night, I had learned even more about what makes Dean the man that he is. I understood the anger that allowed him to strangle that Demon the first night we met. I had watched as he used his hands for the overall good of mankind. I saw desperation in his motions as he worked to patch up the many wounds and injuries that I acquired. Felt the gentleness leaching through his fingertips when he brushed away the stray hair that hindered my sight.

The first time he held me as I cried, his hands holding my body so tight against him it was all consuming. The need that flowed through him when he climbed into my bed for the first time, tugging me into his chest for comfort. Whether it was comfort for him or myself, neither of us would ever admit.

I had felt his grief through his grip on my body, late one night, as he clung to me. When the world had gone dark and silent, his choked sobs the only noise that fell upon our ears. A side of Dean that very few people would ever see, a side that Dean considered weak.

I experienced the feeling of love in a whole new way the first time his thumb brushed my cheek. One of his hands cupping my jaw, while the other pulled me by my waist into his embrace.

I have always been able to tell a lot about people by their hands, yet I never expected to find myself in love with a man whose hands were capable of giving me the world.

Tag List: @roseblue373@hobby27@jc-winchester

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: Bucky’s being an idiot once again and you meet someone… quite interesting? Or creepy? You decide. Also a surprise in the end simply because I can.

Warnings: Alcohol, bit of angst (?), gun, annoying lady, allusion to s3x if you squint, mention of Hydra and being watched/ followed -> 18+!!

Other: Forgive me for eventual mistakes but I wrote this in 3 days and I changed my mind about 60 times

-> Masterlist

-> Part twelve ; part fourteen

-> Devil On Your Shoulder (13)

The ticking of the living room clock was the only sound filling the space around you, each second’s click made you lose your hope about Bucky’s return. Hours had passed since Cassandra had knocked at your door and Bucky had stormed out of the house. Sam and Dean had completely disappeared as well - not that you made any efforts in contacting those two, you anger towards them was still very much present - leaving you all alone with the girl.

You hadn’t spoken much to her due to the fear of stressing her out more than she already was; instead, you opted to let her rest in your bedroom for the night, saving the questions for tomorrow.

You had searched the whole neighborhood for Bucky, checking nearby parks or public places he could be at but there was no sign of him, not even his shadow. It was as if he had vanished. In moments like these, you hated to admit how worried sick you were for his safety, knowing Hydra had their eyes on him. If he were to fall into their hands once again because you couldn’t find him, you’d never forgive yourself.

Hours later, that fear consumed your thoughts. You hadn’t eaten anything all day - the scrambled eggs Bucky had made for breakfast were given to Cassandra since she needed it more than you. But you, honestly, weren’t hungry anyway, especially not when Bucky’s phone went straight to voicemail every time you called.

Your attention was caught by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you turned your head slightly around to see Cassandra coming your way. She was now dressed with some new, clean clothes you had given her, and she seemed to be feeling way better than before.

“Hey.” You tiredly said, as she sat beside you. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Couldn’t find sleep.” She made a small smile your way, resting her feet on the couch to wrap her arms around her knees. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She mumbled. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

You looked at her and shook your head at her apologetic tone of voice. “It’s okay, it’s a sensitive topic for him. It’s… I don’t know why he doesn’t pick up the phone.”

Your nervousness intensified once you spoke, voicing your thoughts was like confirming your worries. You began to play with the golden ring on your finger trying to get your mind off of it, but unlike other times it did nothing to ease the growing anxiety gnawing at you. He had specifically told you to call him once Cassie had calmed down, and you did, but he ignored you.

And, to be completely honest here, being ignored was the best case scenario your brain could think of.

Cassandra’s voice brought you back to the present. “Do you want me to help search for him? I’m sure he’s not far away, and I know the city.” She offered kindly, worry evident in her tone. Her guilt over what she said was as clear as a day.

“No, no.” You waved her off gently. “You need to rest, so feel free to go to bed. I think I’ll go for a walk to clear my head.” The last thing you wanted was to drag her into your tunnel of worries - not just for Bucky, but for the entire situation. She was still a missing girl and she needed to stay inside in order for no one to find her, so letting her out of the house was out of the equation.

Also, she was the goddamn key to solve the case and she was sitting right beside you while three out of four people working on the case were men (as if that was unfortunate enough) that couldn’t set their priorities straight. There were people that needed to be found, like Fury and Maria, others who needed to be captured - and yet, there you were, all alone.

“Are you sure?” She pressed, her brow furrowing with worry. “I don’t mind staying up with you if it’s going to help. I mean… you’re here because of me. It’s the least I can do.”

You managed to give her a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate it, Cassie, but none of this is your fault. There’s no need for you to worry or stress over it. Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.” You hoped the assurance in your voice was convincing.

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to help and follow your advice. Eventually, much to your relief, she nodded. “Alright, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I won’t.” You promised, knowing you’d never wake her up in any case. “Also the house is secure. No one can get in without a key, so you’ll be fine.” You reassured her, watching as she stood up, nodded at you, and headed back back towards the stairs.

Once she was out of sight, you finally let out a deep sigh and looked around the dimly lit room. You forced yourself to get up, knowing that sitting around doing nothing only worsened your mood. Especially seeing your phone screen remain dark without a single message back from Bucky added fuel to the fire.

Grabbing your coat from the armchair, your slipped it on and headed towards the door, locking it securely behind you as you stepped onto the street.

It was probably all the emotions you were feeling at the moment, but for some reason you couldn’t quite understand why the atmosphere felt different that night. It was as if the air stood still, and you sensed presences that weren’t even there.

The streets were empty so you must have had imagined it, the only sound being your footsteps on the wet crosswalk. You double checked behind you to ensure your were alone and, in fact, there was absolutely no soul around. Even the neighbor’s dog was oddly quiet since the animal seemed to be possessed at each hour of the fucking night, but the owners left the poor creature outside alone the whole time so it wasn’t really the dog’s fault.

However, feeling watched or not, you needed to have a proper walk and get your mind off of those three stupid ass men for one night. You could almost excuse Bucky’s behavior initially; seeing the hurt on his face was enough to understand what had come over him. Even if you weren’t close to him, living in the same building for so long meant you knew that being seen as a murder was a trigger for him. You didn’t want to hold him accountable for how he reacted to those accusations, it was his own way to deal with it.

What you couldn’t tolerate was that, if he was still out there somewhere, he hadn’t bothered to let you know he was okay or to check how things ended with Sam and Dean. Especially after hearing how they had kept Cassie locked up for a whole day.

Lost in thought, you almost collided with a stranger who stood directly in your path, making no effort to move even as you took a few steps back.

Your already sour mood darkened further, aggravated by his presence and the small, annoying grin on his face. He appeared to be in his late forties, dressed entirely in black. The streetlight above his head flickered intermittently, unlike the others that worked perfectly.

“I need to go that way.” You said, pointing to the street behind him, as he blocked your path.

He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity before finally stepping aside, extending a hand in the direction you were headed. “Forgive me, kid, didn’t mean to startle you.”

His voice was smooth, but carried an unsettling undertone that you couldn’t ignore. You shot him a glare as you reluctantly walked past him, your eyes not leaving his for the slightest second - you didn’t like this man. He gave off weird vibes, way too familiar vibes, and you didn’t like that.

“You didn’t startle me.” You mumbled. “Maybe just don’t stand in the middle of the crosswalk.”

“I’ll make sure to follow your advice from now on.” The man answered with a sarcastic tone, giving you one last glance before turning around to walk away. “Have the sweetest night, kid.”

You stood there for a moment, watching his short figure disappear around a corner. The nickname he used left a bittersweet taste in your mouth, but you didn’t think much of it as you turned back around to continue your night walk.

You didn’t have a place in mind, the cold air hitting your skin was just a way to cool you off - it was a nice, relaxing feeling for you. Even with that, your mind immediately drifted back to Bucky, Sam and Dean; if you survived this, you’d fight to be paired up with women in the future missions because you had had enough. And it had barely been a week.

You tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps and the crisp night air, which gradually started to finally calm you down. You didn’t know how long you had been walking when, at some point, you arrived near the center of the city, which was far more crowded than the area where you lived. Deciding it was about time to get back, you turned around - or almost.

“I don’t think that’s the right direction.”

A voice made you stop dead in your tacks, and you looked ahead only to see the same man from earlier, throwing something heavy into a nearby dumpster. He smacked his hands together to remove some dirt before slipping them into his pockets, walking towards you with that same small grin you had seen before.

He stopped right in front of you, and all your efforts to dissolve the anger you had built up during the day vanished in a mere instant. Great.

Why this mad had such an effect on you, you didn’t know.

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow, which only made his grin wider.

“I said, you were going in the wrong direction.” He repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. He pointed behind his shoulders, as he spoke again. “You need to go that way, he’s having fun over there. You don’t want him to blew the mission, do you?”

“I have dealt with crazy fuckers like you before, alright? Leave me alone.” You shoved him off, turning your back to head back home. Or, at least, that was your intention.

“I see your attitude hasn’t changed in these last ten years. I thought you’d get nicer with age, but I’m glad to know I was wrong.” He called after you, making your freeze for a second. “Has no one ever taught you that it’s best to be nice to strangers?”

You turned back around, studying his expression because he sure as hell got your attention with that. He seemed to be lucid and collected, making you reconsider in an instant your initial thoughts of him as just another street creep. After all, you had encountered way too many in your life.

“What did you just say?” You said, your voice laced with suspicion.

He took a step closer, still grinning. “Ten whole years. I must admit, I never thought you’d get paired up with the Winchesters. But they go wherever trouble is, so I had to see it coming at some point; my bad.” He raised his hands in surrender before continuing. “But as I was saying, I’m happy to see you haven’t changed. Still so quick to judge, so quick to dismiss and so, so slow when it comes to understand who you can trust and who you can’t. You even got a name now, don’t you, my dear Emma?”

Your mind started to race the second you heard your name fall from his mouth with such normalcy. You were transported back to ten years ago, back to the time you were still with Hydra, to try and remember who he was. But everything was blank, you were sure you had never seen this man before; and there he was, talking to you as if you were his long-lost something.

“How do you know my name?” You demanded, keeping your voice steady. You were an Avenger, sure, but due to your request your face was not allowed to be published - therefore, nobody outside of your friends or some of the people you worked with knew who you were.

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, I know a lot more about you than just your name, dear. I’ve been watching you for a long time, not that you could have known. It’s fascinating how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed… yet some things remained the same.”

“What do you want?”

“Me? Oh, nothing.” He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side. All this… trying to solve creepy mysteries with your gang like some sort of Scooby Doo in real life is quite exciting, but I need you to solve this case quickly because I’m getting tired of you all dancing around it.”

“Do I even know you?!” You asked, as this man was making less sense each passing second.

“No, silly.” His tone was condescending. “So don’t strain your little brain.” He waved a hand in front of your face. “I never bothered to meet you personally, I had more important things to do like…” He trailer off, trying to find the words. “Nothing really, but I’ve been watching you. And let me tell you, that little stunt you pulled when you let that friend of yours escape… what was her name? You used to call her something like Naomi or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nonie.” He smirked, knowing he had your full attention. “Yes, that’s right, because she was anonymous. Brave of you, really, but also quite foolish. She stayed for you, you know? Even after you freed her; she stayed around in the woods and brought John Winchester straight to you, so that he could save you. And what did she get in the end? She was burned alive.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his words, confirming that the man in front of you wasn’t just some crazy idiot on the streets harassing women. He knew about Nonie, a secret you always kept for yourself (one of the many) and that meant he knew far more than what you were comfortable with. And you still had no idea of who he was or where he came from.

The pain of his revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. Not that you had ever held out much hope for Nonie, considering she had been turned into a Wendigo, but you had convinced yourself to believe that perhaps, somehow, she found some form of peace. Hearing that she was dead, though, was like a knife to the heart. She had been your first and only friend, or the closest thing you had to one, for most of your life.

“What do you want from me?“

“Your loyalty.” He answered, the serious you had seen him all night.

You let out an honest chuckled at that, which only made him roll his eyes. “You want me to be loyal to you? I only just met you and, frankly, you’re not exactly making a great first impression.”

He smirked, unfazed by your sarcasm. “I don’t need to make a good impression, my dear, I just need you to understand that we can help each other. We can make a deal, right here and right now, and I’ll explain everything to you. Starting with the truth about Ella White.”

You hated to admit that you took a moment to consider his offer, truly, the second he mentioned that woman. He did seem to know a lot of things, but you didn’t know him and you didn’t trust him. “Listen, not trying to sound rude here, but get lost.” You finally said him, even if a part of you was burning to know what he was talking about. “You’ve been creepy this whole time saying that you watched me when I was younger and now you want to be buddies?” You raised a brow at his nonsense.

“Not buddies, partners. You know, work together, be a team.” He clarified. “You don’t even know how many things we can accomplish together, we’d have everyone at our feet - do you not want that? Imagine, just imagine, how it could be like to rule the living and the dead.” His green eyes were locked into you as he talked, getting close to you.

“You sound like a dictator. I hate dictators.” You answered. “And if you don’t leave me alone I’ll put a bullet right between your eyebrows.”

He laughed at what you said, and your crossed your arms under your chest quite offended. “You’re funny, girl, I’ll give you that. But if you want to kill me, I think a simple gun won’t do it. It’s not your lucky day.” He said, faking an apologetic tone.

“You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“It’s not important.” He replied dismissively. “I’ll give you time to think about my offer, kid.” With a casual shrug, he began to walk past you.

Your eyes refused to leave his figure, and you were conflicted whether to follow him or not. Not because you wanted to accept his weird offer, but because he was clearly involved somehow and letting him go didn’t seem like the smartest choice. But you had a feeling that your paths would cross again.

“I already said no.” You called after him, raising your voice slightly.

He paused, turning his head slightly to glance back at you. “Go ask Dean Winchester why he agreed to work on this case.” He said cryptically. “And then you might change your mind, I’ll make sure to be there when you do.”

You furrowed your brows, puzzled by his words - but even what he said earlier didn’t make more sense than that. What did Dean have anything to do with this? And why was this stranger so confident that you would eventually change your mind? Sure, Dean hadn’t been exactly the most cooperative person in the last couple of days, but he was making it look as if you couldn’t trust him.

“And before I forget,” He added suddenly. “You might want to go take a look at the bar down the road, see if you can find something interesting, take it as a little help from me.” With that, he turned and walked away. You swore that he vanished as soon as you blinked, but that was impossible… wasn’t it?

Your feet moved before your brain could properly process his words, and you started to head towards the place he told you to go to. It’s true you didn’t have positive vibes regarding that man whose name you didn’t know, but so far he only said things you knew were real, more or less, so you thought it wasn’t a bad idea to go see for yourself what he was referring to.

You hurried down the streets, the sounds of laughter and clicking glasses growing louder as you approached. Hesitating at the entrance, you took a deep breath before pushing the wooden door open, the little bell above it chiming softly. The noise went unnoticed by most of the people in there, except two men who glanced your way and left the second you entered.

The smell of alcohol and smoke was thick, but you ignored it as you scanned the room. No familiar faces met your gaze, and some doubts began to creep in. Perhaps the most logical reason was that the stranger had been toying with you all along. You shook your head, feeling foolish for trusting him even for a moment. Turning to leave, you prepared to step back into the street hoping to not meet any other idiot that was going to mess with your ideas.

Except that then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar face sitting alone in the farthest corner of the room.

Bucky Barnes. He was hunched over a drink, his eyes low as he watched the liquid twirl before taking a sip of it. Relief washed over you upon seeing that he was unharmed, but it was quickly replaced by that very same anger you had for the whole day. He had left you worried this whole time while he was there, drinking his problems away - and he didn’t have the excuse of being drunk because you knew it was physically impossible for him to be.

You weaved your way through the crowded bar, your eyes firm on him. With each step closer he seemed to feel your presence, as he looked up from his glass his eyes found yours in no time. His posture visibly stiffened and a flicker of surprise crossed his face as you dropped into the chair across from him, not so kindly.

“Nice to see you too.” He muttered, barely glancing up.

“You left me worried sick.” You snapped, your voice low but intense in order not to have people overhear the conversation. “I called and texted thinking the worst had happened and you were here drinking? What the fuck is your problem?”

“I needed some time alone, alright?” He said dismissively, taking another sip.

“Time alone?” You scoffed. “You could have at least let me know you were okay, for fuck’s sake. Cassandra said some hurtful things while, mind you, she was scared for her life and you disappeared for hours? We have a damn case to solve, Bucky, people are counting on us.”

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes. “Believe it or not, I have been working. Didn’t think it mattered whether you knew or not.”

“Didn’t think it-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “We’re a team, Bucky. When one of us bails, if affects everyone. We lost a day because apparently I’m paired up with people that run away when things aren’t convenient anymore.”

“How did you even find me?” He tilted his head, ignoring your outburst. “You have the worst sense of orientation I’ve ever seen. Didn’t know you knew the city.”

“I don’t, a man told me where you were.”

“A man?” He raised a brow, his skepticism evident. “You made new friends already? That’s great, honey. Socializing is good for you.”

You blinked a few times, taken aback at his nonchalance. You had just told him that a stranger had essentially been following him, and that was his reaction? His dismissive attitude left your dumbfounded to say the least.

“You’re getting on my nerves.” You said, your patience wearing thin. Not that it was great before.

“Do you know how to get back home?” He asked, not even being fazed by what you said.

“Yes.” You responded, barely masking your irritation.

“Then go.” He said, waving you off. “I’ll get back later.”

He glanced to his left, and your eyes followed his gaze. You immediately understood the reason behind his attitude, and you were not happy in the slightest about it. Dalia emerged from the bathroom, heading straight to your table.

Now that you looked down, you noticed two glasses of whiskey instead of one, and one of them had lipstick mark on it. Of course, that made sense.

“Harry.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t know your wife was going to join us tonight.” Her fake smile grated on your nerves.

“She was just about to leave, actually.” Bucky said, giving you a look that clearly said, ‘do as I say.’ “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You felt a surge of anger at his blatant disregard, clenching your jaw at the way he was acting and at the way she was smirking. “Sure.” You replied sarcastically, standing up. “After all, I wouldn’t want to ruin the night.”

Dalia’s smirk widened as she slid into your seat not even a second after you moved, not hiding the fact she was happy you would leave. “So nice of you, Jade. You know, me and your husband have a lot in common, I might steal him from you.” She chuckled at her own words.

You narrowed your eyes at Dalia’s taunting remark, her words grating on your last nerve. “Ah, good luck with that.” You retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast with his mood changes.”

Bucky shot you a glare, but you ignored it. “Sweetheart.” He said, the nickname anything but sweet. “Get home safe, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll be nice to him.” Dalia chimed in, leaning back on the chair. “Or not.” She added, winking at him.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to maintain your composure at her clearly flirting with your fake husband. “Have fun.” You simply muttered out, noticing how Bucky stopped meeting your gaze a while ago - instead, he was looking at his empty glass of whiskey.

“We will.” She said, waving at you with that annoying smile on her face.

You turned on your heel and headed towards the door, ignoring the tension in the air behind you. As you stepped out, into the cool night air, a mixture of frustration and hurt made their way in your stomach. You didn’t know why you were feeling so pissed at her being there with him, but you imagined it was because he had been doing God knows what all day with the neighbor’s daughter when you had a fucking case to solve.

Pushing aside your emotions, you finally walked back home hoping to remember the way to go there, walking quickly to put as much distance as you could between yourself and the scene inside the bar.

To think you were actually starting to like the guy now that your issues were kind of solved, but maybe Bucky wasn’t really the right person you wanted as a friend if he was willing to jeopardize the mission for a woman he met a few days ago.

You finally arrived home, the exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulder as you shut close the door behind you. Tossing your coat onto the couch still completely in the dark, since you were too drained to bother with the lights, all you craved was a shower and some sleep due to the late hour and the events of the day. However, it seemed that fate had other plans.

As you made your way towards the stairs, the doorbell pierced the silence. With a scoff, you retraced your steps and swung the the door open, only to be met with the sight of the infuriating man in black, his grin widening at the sight of your irritation.

“I told you he was having fun.” He remarked, relishing in your obvious displeasure. “Did I not?”

“More than me for sure.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well… men are weak. Give them a beautiful woman and they’ll forget about their duties. If you need help, real help with this case, I’m offering it. You just need to say yes.”

“No.” You said again, firmly.

“You’re as stubborn as your mother.”

Your heart stopped at that. “My- my what?”

“Mother.” He repeated casually as if dropping that bombshell on you was just another walk in the park for him. “What? Did you think you popped out of nowhere?” He grinned, using the knowledge he had about your past - past you didn’t even know - to manipulate you into joining him.

You struggled to find the right words to respond, but your brain couldn’t process anything concrete.

“Oh, I’ve got your attention for real now, don’t I? Little Emma wants to know about her mother more than you want help for this case. Selfish, I love it.”

You met his gaze with steely silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging he was right. He had been right the whole time, if we want to be honest, and in the back of your mind you kept thinking about his words as if there was a little devil on your shoulder that was telling you to listen to him. It was clear now that he knew how to find you, who you were and what you wanted… which wasn’t really great news.

You simply shut the door on his face, and you hoped for a moment of peace - but even that was short lived. The doorbell chimed once more, prompting you to hurry back, only this time you had your gun in hand, ready to get rid of the stranger once and for all.

As you opened the door again with your finger firmly on the trigger, you quickly realized that there was no need to use violence that time. Instead, you lowered your hand with clear surprise and relief on your face, your expression softening as you took the unexpected sight before you.

“Woah, calm down.” A familiar voice remarked, her eyebrows raised at your defensive stance. “A bit on edge, are we? Let me in and explain everything, I’m here to help.”

“Natasha.” You greeted, moving aside to let her in.

Finally someone who didn’t get on your nerves.

[assaily]

Feeding the fandom some more. :)

Working Title: Hide the Morning from the Stars Colloquial title: Mute Five Themes: I don't even know anymore

This is a Very rough draft. Like so rough I don't even think my tensing is consistent throughout. This is Five's loneliest first year of retirement ever. And also him hanging out with Grace.

Major warning for the beginning for suicidal thoughts and behaviors.

~Post Mute~

Five takes the gun out of his mouth, his tongue flexing against the heavy iron tang of metal. The weight of it is familiar and cold in his hand as he sets it down on the edge of the sink, his shaking fingers pressing the safety back into place.

He’s just being dramatic. It’s all those teenage hormones mixing badly with all the trauma Five honestly didn’t think he’d live long enough to have to deal with. Oh,  and one hell of a hangover. That’s all it is, dramatics. If he thinks for a minute, plans this out, he realizes how horrible of an idea it is.

He can’t make Mom clean his brain matter off the walls. That would be cruel, even for him. Dramatics. Besides, his siblings would hear the gunshot. He doesn’t really want them to find him. Klaus would summon him before he had a chance to cross over and they’d give him a ream of shit for making such a mess. The idea of being yelled at again is exhausting.

“Can’t you have done this at a hotel or something?” He can imagine them saying to his corpse, scoffing and shaking their heads in disappointment. They’re right, of course, he shouldn’t do this at home. 

He sighs, closing his eyes against the judgment staring back at him through the mirror. He tries to settle the shaking in his body but can only seem to draw it in, not vanquish it. He’s never really calm anymore. He wasn’t much before, but at least he could pretend.

These days it feels like every defense he’s ever built for himself has been stripped away, leaving him raw and naked and fragile in ways he can’t compute. It makes him nasty and hateful, covering himself in glass so that the moment someone reaches out, they bleed. He wants to be normal, he wants to be able to have a conversation with his siblings without thinking they’re judging him, and without picking a fight. He wants to scream and cry and beg them.

But he’s not sure what he would beg for, only that he wants something desperately, but something else inside of him, something old and stalwart and terrified refuses to let him ask. So he picks fights, he’s nasty without knowing why, and his siblings hate him for it.

He opens a drawer below the sink and tucks the little ruger beneath a pile of clean washcloths. This used to be his and Ben’s bathroom, but he’s the only one that uses it now. The others don’t really come up here, even less now that the honeymoon period has passed and they have no desire to keep him company anymore. 

Allison mostly lives in California now, Viktor lives out there too, but they both come to visit every couple of months, staying for a week at a time. Diego lives outside the house with Klaus, and recently Luther found a job that would pay him enough to afford his own apartment. He hasn’t moved out yet, but he’s actively looking.

This is what Five wanted, them living their lives and moving on, but he has to remind himself like he forgot. He wanted to give them the opportunities he never had, and he succeeded. He’s not sure why it feels so terrible now, but he suspects it’s only a symptom of the sickness sitting like a rot in his bones.

He makes a point of not looking at himself, wetting his hairbrush under the faucet in an attempt to tame his bedhead. The scratch of the bristles against his skin hurts, so he pressed harder.

Allison and Viktor are at the end of their visit, and everyone is in the house. They’d be gone by tonight, and the house would go back to the coffin it was without the others, but in the meantime, Five wanted to look at least a little put together for them. He doesn’t want them to worry, but with the constant arguing he figures he can get away with less and less grooming.

His hair is getting long and he hasn’t really had the energy to cut it yet. It’s getting a little annoying, the way it falls into his eyes and curls at the nape of his neck. He’d go to a barber if he thought he could get through the encounter without snatching the scissors away and ending the life of the poor girl unlucky enough to draw the short straw.

When he finishes, he finally looks back at himself. He still looks like garbage, his skin an unhealthy pallor, accentuating the dark circles weighing down his eyes. The water managed to tame some of the mess of his hair, but it’s obviously greasy, flakes of dandruff like ash on his scalp. His reflection glares back at him, anger and disappointment like a stone in his stomach.

He really is a dramatic bastard. Today of all days, he figured he’d leave it in the drawer. Playing the wishing game with all his siblings home. He can’t even deny that of the cry for attention it is. Disgusting, really. His siblings could probably smell him rotting from here.

He considers a shower. It would make him feel better, a little more human at least, before he goes downstairs and has to pretend at it. The idea of getting wet, and having to put his clothes back on with wet skin makes him grimace. He doesn’t want to be cold either, because he can never seem to get warm. No use making it worse.

He flicks the light off and  cracks the door behind him as he leaves. He shuffles back to his room to find something cleaner to wear. He should have washed his face, but now that he’s away from the mirror, he doesn’t have the energy to go back to it.

Mom keeps an ever revolving source of clean clothes for him, so that part of his routine is easy at least. He doesn’t have to think too hard about it, it’s the middle of winter so that means layers, and Five likes layers. They don’t really keep him warm, but that’s normal. No, he likes them because it’s a little like putting on a suit of armor. It’s just fabric, but it still manages to trick some animal part of his brain into thinking he might be a little safer. No more warm, but far less likely to freeze.

Which is an odd quirk, considering his insistence to play the wishing game every fucking morning.

In his defense, he doesn’t usually pull the gun out. He usually he just stares at the whelp in the mirror, wondering why the fuck he’s still here when he feels this horrible all the time. Then he bucks up, cleans up, and moves on with his day.

The ruger is just… He put it there in case of emergencies. Doesn’t hurt to have a few weapons hidden around the house in case the commission decides to come knocking again. He’s not sure when he started pointing it at himself. It’s a bad habit. There are better ways, less violent ways. Ways that don’t make a mess for his family to clean up after him.

He’s just being dramatic. That’s all it is. Nothing more. Being a teenager sucks. He remembers how much better things got when his hormones weren’t through the roof, making his emotions sharp and fragile all the time, making the loneliness so much harder to ignore.

This too shall pass, he would always say to himself. Over and over, like a prayer to an unloving universe. Please, just let it pass. Five is pretty sure he doesn’t really want to be alive anymore, but he also hates wanting to die. It puts a grayish filter on everything, on every thought and interaction. He’s alive, and hates living. Worse than surviving and already feeling dead. There’s a certain numbness to the in-between space of not wanting to be alive, but not wanting to kill himself either, and he yearns for it now in the throes of a worse agony.  

But again, he’s just being dramatic. Pesky hormones. This too shall pass and all that. 

He dresses quickly, changing from yesterday’s sleep rumpled long sleeves and sweaters into cleaner ones. He reuses a layer, the fabric of a knitted shirt warm in his nearly numb hands and it’s not something he wants to waste. The bottom hem on the back is dirty, and there’s a food stain on the front of it. It still smells vaguely like the alcohol he drank last night, but he puts it on as a middle layer. His hands are easily swallowed in the outer layers, and he has the idea some of it might belong to Diego. He stole a number of garments from them all last fall, and plans to give them back at the end of spring, if he makes it that long.

Spring still feels so far away, it’s hard to think that far ahead.

Five looks like shit, and he feels like shit, but he still dares Diego to say anything about it when he arrives downstairs. He walked the first part, then warped the last floor into the kitchen once he got close enough. The air was warmer down here, the heaters worked better on the ground floors, and no one had lived in the upper floors until recently. It was his first winter home, and he almost wonders if it’s worth trying to fix. Might be easier to just move, but he likes his bedroom high above the street. He spent a lot of last summer drinking on his fire escape; it’s familiar in a wildly unfamiliar world.

“Hey,” Diego greets, giving him an appraising look but not saying anything about the fact that Five’s wearing one of his sweaters.

Five nods a greeting before he busies himself pulling a mug from the cupboard and getting a cup of coffee. The pot’s still on and half-full, likely courtesy of Mom, so it’s a short lived distraction. He almost wishes he put something in his coffee so he has an excuse to linger without making it awkward.

“I heard you and Allison got into a fight last night,” Diego says, a hint of sardonics in his voice. “Well, pretty sure the whole block heard.”

Five grimaces behind the rim of his mug, throat too tight to take a sip. It seems he’s always fighting with someone.

“Nothing to say, huh?”

Five’s pretty sure he said enough last night, regardless of how little he even remembers. Might be time to lay off drinking, even as he already wishes for something to put in his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders, throat still tight and getting tighter. It’s almost hard to breathe and his head is pounding.

Diego sighs, sounding exhausted. “Look, I’ve been talking the othe–”

Five doesn’t hear the rest, pulling himself through a tear in space. He stumbles out the other side, managing to set the coffee on his desk before his knees buckle and he topples to the floor. He lays there for a while, wheezing softly and trying to catch his breath. There isn’t much going through his head, besides how grateful he is that he saved his coffee. There was no way in hell he was going down for another.

-

He helps Mom with chores in the evenings, usually after Luther’s gone to bed and the house is painfully silent. She hums while she works, washing the dishes and cleaning up after dinner. Five sits in with her, finishing up any leftover in the pots or pans. He follows her like a ghost back upstairs, and helps her fold laundry. The laundry room is usually pleasantly warm, and Five sometimes dozes off listening to Mom hum, sprawled out on a table.

When she’s finishes with all that, she heads into the library and settles down on a couch someone had moved there in the months following their return. This is a newer part of her routine, one that Five created with his presence and can’t make himself feel bad about. The blanket draped over the back is a deep verdant green and pleasantly soft texture.

Mom settles on one end, picking up a book from the table besides the couch. He’s not sure when she started reading, or if she always did that and he just didn’t remember. For some reason it makes her seem more human. Sometimes she reads heavy tomes of obscure information, sometimes it's children’s fantasy.

Five collapses onto the couch beside her, leaning his weight against her side and sighing in the deepest relief as she wraps her arm around his shoulders. He beyond caring at this point, and Mom’s not one to judge. He rests his body against her’s for a while, breathing with her simulated breath, forcing himself to relax and finding it hard.

He still can’t get himself to stop shaking, and now with an arm around him, his vulnerabilities and hurts come bubbling up like blood from a wound. He can’t pull it in, his hands shake horribly in his lap, and clasping them together just seems to make it look worse.

She never opened her book, and she senses his distress instantly, something he hates and can’t help but be grateful for. She doesn’t ask him what’s wrong, merely pushes the book away and turns toward him to give him her full attention.

It’s too much and he nearly begins to sob. 

She shushes him gently when he swallows it down, one of her hands tracing his cheek before pulling him to rest his face against her. He wraps his arms around her back, clinging to her like a child, like he never had before and feels so stupid to do now. He can’t stop himself, it all hurts so much and he just wants it all to end. This doesn’t make him feel better, but it makes him feel something else beside the horrifying nothing eating at his bones.

She runs a hand through his hair and down the nape of his neck. He feels her hand pause and come back to his kneck, searching for his pulse. He pulls away, both out of confusion, and to allow her more access. Her face is neutral, but she frowns minutely at him before tucking his head against her.

“You’re experiencing heart palpitations,” she says, not at all asking.

He was ignoring up until now, the way his chest was tight and his heart was doing uneven little leaps and lurches. It was hard to get a full breath in, constricting in his throat, too. He nodded against her, swallowing hard when the words refused to come.

“You’re temperature is a little elevated. How are you feeling darling?”

Horrible, he tried to say, but while his mouth worked around the word, his throat spasmed silently.

[natureismynature]

I'm finally home and ready to talk about The Book!!

So, this book I've been talking about was found by Roier yesterday when he was looking for Cellbit in the castle. I don't think anyone thought much of it since Grandma's room is kind of a hotspot for almost all of Foolish's pranks. But I'm telling you, this one is NOT a prank. Especially not when said book was found accompanied by a VERY illegal gun.

Now. Here's the contents of the book.

i hope this finds the right person... hide it for now, be careful who you tell.

7 space 27

no one suspects a thing

that was a giant middle finger... asshole

no meaning. just for fun :D

3000 cielo 0

could someone find this first (alternatively: someone could find this first)

Ok, now that we've laid that all down, I'm gonna start rambling and theorizing under the cut

If you guys remember, Forever tried to barter Foolish's gun for his silence/lesser aggression. But Foolish told him he already had other plans for the gun... and I guess this was it.

I suspect he did this during that time Aypierre was doing a 24-hour stream and he randomly logged on. He usually logs on offline nowadays if he was hiding something from chat and other people... anyway, that's not the point! The point is the binary code on the first page and whatever the hell that was on the last.

The binary code translated to "7 space 27" which means. Literally nothing. Or DOES it?

Because I refuse to believe Foolish just randomly typed out binary code on a secret book handing over his gun to whoever finds it (most likely assumed to be Cellbit) which ACTUALLY translates to something. So I dug around and bullshitted my way to find a SOMEWHAT acceptable conclusion because I am not delusional and will never be as smart as Cellbit.

Keep in mind I have no fucking clue how enigmas work and used a chart for this bullshit. Specifically this one:

According to this chart, if we take the translated code and refer to them as our decimals, we've got 7 and 27 to look at. Now, if we look at our decimals' rows, we will get BEL and ESC as our ASCII symbols.

I searched up what they meant and they are literally:

BEL - bell, alert

ESC - escape

Now if we take those and complete the "sentence" that was there originally it would become "Alert space Escape" which is... something... but don't quote me on this, I could be 100% wrong.

But enough of that because my brain is already mush. Let's check the next one!

Next one being "3000 cielo 0"

I looked up what cielo meant, and it had various different meanings, but the common denominator was that it was high up. (i.e. sky, heaven, roof) But it could also be used as a term of endearment like mi cielo (my heaven) or something along those lines. And 3000 is some kind of angel number or something that means love and stuff.

My immediate thought upon searching up these two is the phrase "I love you 3000" but I might be grasping straws here. This might just be cords to a place somewhere up high with 3000 and 0 as the x and y axis. But you know, I like to make things harder for me.

Honestly, if you're still here and reading this paragraph, then I applaud you for being smart enough to understand whatever the hell I just wrote down.

There are two wolves inside me. One that thinks Foolish didn't really mean anything by these codes and the other that KNOWS he's smart enough to do this (AND would absolutely get help from the admins if he didn't)

[therapyandprozac]

Together Again, at Last.

Title: Together Again, at Last

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3.5k

Ship: Dean x Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: !!GUNS!!, vaginal gun fucking, established relationship, mafia!bucky, dom/dom/sub, pet names/honorifics, begging, bondage, over stimulation, oral sex 

Description: Hi everyone! This is very very kinky! You’ve been warned. Reader doesn't need to breathe 🙈

You have been dating Bucky and Dean for a while, and it's going really well. However, always being out on missions and work makes it hard to see each other in person often. So when you do get to be together it's intense, to say the least. Months of teasing and sexy pictures, all culminate in bliss when you finally get to touch each other. 

Driving up to your house you see two cars in your driveway. One an old black Impala and the other a sleek black Corvette. You smile, a blush already creeping up your neck at the anticipation of what is about to happen. You grab your suitcase and walk up to the door. Your heart rate steadily increases, with each step. You open the door, your breath catches, and you honestly forget how to breathe for a second.

You see Dean in a beat-up brown, leather jacket, dirty dark denim jeans, and even dirtier combat boots. He is sitting on a barstool facing you, drinking a beer, a crooked smile forming as his eyes meet yours. Bucky is sitting next to him. His suit jacket is thrown over the bar, white button-up, unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Neat, pressed black pants to match the jacket and black, freshly shined shoes. His expression doesn't seem to change as he looks you up and down, taking another sip of his scotch. You drop your suitcase and run over to give them both a big hug, it's been months since you last saw your boys.

“Miss me, doll?” Bucky whispers. 

“You know I di- did.” You stutter out as Dean places gentle kisses on your neck. “Are we still doing our plans for tonight?” You ask, grabbing Dean’s hair and pulling him further up your neck. 

“Of course, Princess. Safewords?” He asks with his eyebrows furrowed, looking at you and Bucky.

“Green,” You say, biting your lips between your teeth to keep from smiling. 

Bucky licks up your neck to your ear and whispers, “Yellow,” In a deep, almost growl. 

“Red.” Dean says his cockeyed smirk shifting his face into a devious expression. You grab both of their wrists and drag them to the bedroom, not that they needed dragging to follow you. Dean lays on the bed one arm behind his head, and that stupid smirk is still on his face. Bucky lays next to Dean, palming him through his jeans. Dean groans and pushes up into Bucky’s hand. 

“I want to see you, sweetheart.” Bucky’s voice is already laced with control and power. “Strip.” You almost frantically take off your travel clothes. Usually, you would take your time and try to be overtly sexual but right now you just want them on you, around you…in you, a whimper leaves your throat at the thought. You rip your shirt and shorts off carelessly, throwing them both across the room. You blush being newly exposed and wrap your arms around your waist and cross your legs a bit. 

“Hey, no, it's been too long since we've seen you. We want to see our baby.” Dean says, his voice sounding like he’s pleading. You drop your arms cautiously looking at the ground and bite your lip. “That's my good girl.” 

“Come here doll, before we tie you up and torture that pussy. I want you to grind on my leg.” Bucky’s words are slow and melt your brain as you straddle him on the bed. You adjust yourself so your arms are wrapped tight around his neck as you rock your hips gently above his pants not quite making contact. He groans and puts his hands on your hips, shoving you down on top of him. 

“Wait, I don't want to ruin your pants.” You mutter, some sense of reason coming to your mind. Bucky doesn’t say anything, he digs his fingers into your hips as he moves your body so you are forced to grind on him. You don't need any more convincing. Finally having friction on your cunt, electricity shoots up your spine, and you moan as you roll your hips desperate for more. 

“Oh that’s a good girl.” Dean growls. Watching you from the other side of the bed, rubbing himself through his jeans. He climbs over to where you are and sucks a beautiful hickey into your neck right in the spot that has you gasping, he knows you too well. He unbuckles your bra and throws it somewhere in the room, no one was paying enough attention to care. “Look up babe.” Dean says to Bucky because he was entranced in you rubbing yourself on his pants. Bucky groans when he looks up to see your tits in his face. He starts shallowly bouncing his thigh into you to force more pressure under you. He pulls one of your breasts into his mouth and toys with your nipple. You're close, so close to the edge when a pair of hands stops your hips. You let out an angry groan and look at Bucky’s hands holding you still. 

“I didn’t say you could cum, did I?” Bucky says with a sly smile. You shake your head no and lean over to kiss Dean. His tongue slips into your mouth and your legs give out pulling him closer to you. You try to wiggle your hips as much as you can for any friction. A moan escapes your lips as you finally feel denim rub slightly under your clit. Your eyes shoot open as Bucky flips you onto your back in one swift motion as if you weighed nothing.

You watch Dean walk to the dresser to get something. He walks away and you see a bulge in the back of his pants. 

“What’s that?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer. Dean turns around slowly, reaching behind him and pulling out a Colt M1911 and placing it in your hand. 

“Here.” He smirks. You moan, the ridges on the bottom of the barrel make you whimper at the thought of…” no not that, they’d think you're crazy” you think to yourself. Lost in the thought you hear Bucky unholster his, with eyes wide you look at him. 

“Do you want to hold it?” Bucky asks, holding his gun in his hands. 

“Yes.” You whimper and nod furiously and he hands it to you. It’s warm because it was so close to Bucky’s body. You see their personalities in their weapon of choice. You haven’t seen this gun on Bucky before though. It has a long black silencer on the end of a gun. It feels so heavy, but as you hold it you imagine what this beautiful weapon could do to your cunt.

Almost like they can read your mind, they take their weapons from you and set them down. Bucky takes off his tie and wraps one end around your wrist tying the other end to the bedpost. You whimper and Dean laughs, grabbing his hand cuffs and clasping one around your hand and the other to the other bedpost. 

“Go on, test them.” Dean growls. You shake your arms and pull hard but you can’t get out. Their smiles widen and their eyes darken. “First.” Dean hisses out. “I’ve wanted to eat this pussy for months!” He says before burying his face in your cunt. You moan and cry out as he expertly eats you out. He sucked your clit lightly through his teeth and you thrashed before cumming for the first time of the night. 

“Who said you could cum?” Bucky says once your vision comes back. Unbuckling his belt and unsheathing it in one swift motion. He quickly slaps your thighs with it, the crack sound bouncing off the walls. You yelp and moan from the pain and the beautiful sting of where the leather kissed your skin. “Answer me!” His voice is dark and emotionless, you shiver. 

“No one. I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to! I swear!” You plead as best you can with your hands tied to either side of your head. Bucky growls hearing his title on your lips for the first time in a while. 

“You are not allowed to cum until we say so, understand?” Dean snaps. 

“Yes yes yes please I'm sorry!” You beg.

“I think we need a gag, what do you think love?” Bucky turns to Dean and asks.  Dean smirks and doesn’t waste a second climbing on top of you and lining himself up with your mouth. 

“Show me your blink for red!” He commands. You blink SOS in morse code and he responds by forcing himself down your throat. You gag and choke around him it’s been a while since anyone’s mouth fucked you. He moans your warmth surrounding his length just like he craved for so long. “Mmm look at you, teary eyed and desperate. You missed this as much as I have, haven’t you?” You try to nod your head as best you can, but all you can do is groan around him. 

“Mm no need to answer sweetheart.” Bucky says with a smile in his voice. You feel his two thick fingers run through your wetness and you whimper. “She fucking loves it Dean, taste.” He whispers the last word into Dean's ear and he groans, opening his mouth and looking over his shoulder. You see them lock eyes as Bucky gently places his fingers on Dean’s tongue. Wrapping his lips around them and moans as the taste of you fills his mouth. He thrusts into your mouth absentmindedly. You have missed having him in your mouth, heavy and hot, choking you into bliss. You cough and he turns back to you.  

“Aww what is it Angel?” He leans forward quickly and violently grabs the headboard. He stares down at you, a wicked smile on his face. You groan around him as he starts mouth fucking you. Your breathing is cutting in and out as he rides your face aggressively. 

Bucky kisses your thighs and lets out a desperate sigh. Before licking all of your cunt in one stroke with his tongue curved at the end. Collecting your wetness and moans finally having you back in his mouth. He holds you there savoring every moment of tasting you. He smiles and licks your clit gently, just enough to tease you. Before settling into eating you out like he’s done hundreds of times. Bucky always knew how to work you and everytime it was mind blowing. He runs one finger through your folds and presses it into you, curling it back toward him a few times. Right after he adds a second finger and you moan around Dean. Bucky’s tongue working your clit and his fingers curling up onto your g spot make you see stars. He pumps his fingers in and out bringing you so close, before pulling them out completely. He sits back on his heels and sucks his fingers cleaning himself and savoring the taste of you. You groan angrily and Dean pulls out of your mouth.

“Please!” You whine, desperate to be full again. You wiggle your hips and reach your feet out to touch them. They both grab an ankle and glare at you. Bucky grabs his belt from the floor and Dean unbuckles and pulls his out with one hand. They use their belts to tie your ankles to the bed frame. It is awkward to tie with them but they get you secure and safely tied up. You wiggle but can’t move any of your limbs. You whimper, your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Look at you шлюха, naked, tied to our bed...” Bucky continues talking with fondness in his voice. Your eyes wander to the end table where their guns are laid out. “Mmm look at her Dean. Desperate eyes glued to our guns. It’s almost like we’re not even here.” You violently shake your head no. 

“No that’s not it, I promise!” You blurt out. 

“What is it, doll face?” Bucky smirks with a knowing look in his eye. You squeeze your eyes tight and tug, futilely at your restraints, trying to cover your face. “I haven’t seen this much embarrassment on you in a while.”

“Look at the blush covering her body. This is gonna be a good one.” Dean adds. “Come on angel, tell us.” His voice rasps as he drops his voice a few octaves. You stutter for a couple minutes trying to say it but your face just gets more red. 

Bucky gets an idea, he walks to the end table and picks up his gun. He looks it up and down in his hands. You look at Dean but he's watching Bucky, smiling knowing his plan. Bucky steps beside you and points the barrel of his gun at your head. Your legs start shaking as he stares stone faced down the barrel at you. Suddenly you realize, this is the final moments of the people who cross Bucky. 

“Please! Please!” You grind against nothing and whine. 

“Please what?” Bucky stares down at you, lifting a quizzical eyebrow. You mumble something trying to pass it off. “Please what?!” Bucky repeats louder. 

“Please fuck me with your guns!” You shout quickly. Bucky lifts his gun away from your face and you can’t help but exhale. Dean growls, running his hand through his hair. You squirm trying to hide your face again unsuccessfully. 

“Oh angel. All you had to do was ask.” Dean says. They look at their weapons and choose Bucky’s gun. Its long black silencer is perfect for this situation. Bucky runs the tip of the barrel through your wetness, circling your clit. The barrel feels freezing against your hot cunt, you shiver and groan, wiggling in your restraints. 

“Please, please!” You plead desperate for the firearm to be inside you. Dean smiles and gets down next to Bucky. He licks and sucks on your clit as Bucky finally inserts the cold steel into you. Your eyes roll I got the back of your head as you attempt to rock your hips. 

“Still.” Dean says taking a break from teasing your clit. You freeze, unmoving but moaning and groaning as Bucky uses his gun as an extension of himself. It feels like when he fingers you, just with (more metal hehe cause his fingers are metal anyway. a weapon that could kill you in a second. You want more, so much more. 

“More!” You whine straddling the line between desperation and pathetic. Dean stands up and arms himself. 

“Look at you, stunning, tied up, helpless.” He stays studying your body up and down. He climbs on the bed and straddles your face. He stares down, growls and opens your mouth. “I’ve missed your mouth, been on the road to long.” He mutters almost completely to himself as he pushes gently in and out of your eager mouth. 

You’re full! A beautiful once cold weapon is quickly becoming hotter as it’s thrust in and out of you. The man handling the weapon is a well known mob boss who’s killed thousands with the very same gun that’s filling your cunt. The man deliciously filling your mouth was one of a kind, a demon hunter with a cock so sweet it’s like chocolate. You missed this so much! 

Bucky works his gun like magic exactly at the angle to have you gasping. Dean stands up and tilts Bucky’s head back. It’s such a soft moment, they share a kiss then both eyes snap back to you. “What do you think Buck, should we let her cum?” He whispers in Bucky’s ear. Bucky never stopped his tantalizing thrusting. 

“Please can I cum please!” You whimper and whine, grinding on the pistol. 

“Okay but once you do you're not allowed to stop.” Bucky smirks that sly smile. You moan and cry out ‘yes’ as he drives the weapon into your g spot over and over. You cum for the second time tonight with Bucky’s gun trigger deep in your pussy. He pulls it out of you and sucks the barrel down his throat, tasting everything you left him. 

“Oh please can I be on my hands and knees and have you in my mouth and you in my cunt.” You beg when your voice comes back you. They both fall silent and untie you, gently rubbing your wrists and ankles to alleviate any pain. Quickly and desperately you get into position. Bucky in front of your face and Dean lining up to plow into your cunt. “Oh god.” You whimper and moan this is really happening! You’ve been fantasizing about this since that last time you fucked. “Please, please, please!” You beg until your throat is full of cock. Bucky really loses control when he’s fucking your mouth. It’s no wonder he does you’re so warm and desperately sucking for him. 

A deep growl escapes Dean's lips as he thrust balls deep into you without hesitation. They get a rhythm going and you’re just bouncing between their cocks. Neither of them back off and sometimes they both thrust so hard your body feels like a spring. 

Bucky grabs a handful of your hair pulling it hard as he works himself in and out of your mouth faster as his breathing quickens. He’s panting above you, you feel him pulse in your throat, he’s about to cum, you’ve missed the taste of him. 

“Dean, cum down her throat.” Bucky growls. Dean didn’t have to be told twice he growled and he picked up his pace again. He thrusts in and out of your throat, stretching and filling you. His pattern staggered as he gets closer to cumming. You need him so bad, need to taste him on your tongue.

You feel him pulse and jolt in your mouth. You are flooded with a sense of euphoria as he fills your throat and cums. The fluid flowing over your throat and tounge, you’re literally addicted to him. You feel whole as he works through the after shocks of his orgasm in your mouth. 

“Oh fuck I’m gon-“ Dean pants heavily. You push Bucky out of your mouth and he stumbles backward gently. 

“INSIDE! Please daddy please cum inside my pussy!” You shout, your voice raspy from Bucky’s dick. He immediately bends over you and pins your neck to the bed he whispers in your ear. 

“Come on my needy princess cum for me!” He bites your ear lobe and you cum, hard. He cums deep inside you, your pussy milking every drop from him. He slowly pulls out and watches his cum mix with yours. He licks the mixture into his mouth before kissing it into Bucky’s mouth. You turn onto your back and watch them kiss while your cunt continues throbbing. When they look down at you, you’ve caught your breath but you’re a moaning mess. 

 You close your eyes when a strong vibration kisses your clit. 

“Ah!!” You gasp, your clit is so sensitive. Dean’s holding a wand, your favorite wand. It’s on the lowest setting but it’s taking your breath away. 

“Color?” He asks. 

“Green.”

“I’m not gonna let go of your beautiful clit, you're going to weep as the pain and pleasure melts your brain.” He pauses, as you blink at him trying to process what he just said. “Color?”

“Oh dear lord please please green, all the green.” You writhe still unbelievably wanting more. 

He starts slowly teasing your clit, it hurts, it feels like electricity is running through your body. He presses the wand firmly against your clit. The pain sparkles up your arms it goes up to almost unbearable pain and then it twists and feels like heaven. You’re desperate again pleading and whining grinding on the vibrator until you cum and your brain shuts off, replaced with fireworks. The relentless vibrator means you can’t savor the orgasm for long as the process starts over and over again. He does this until your eyes start to water. 

“Please sir please sir!” You cry out. 

“What's wrong baby I thought you wanted to cum?” He asks just as it twists into good pain again and you’re seeing stars cumming so hard you stop breathing. You cum three more times before he finally pulls the vibrator away to your dismay. He kisses your cunt and places his whole hand over it. It is so sweet and feels so good on your sore pussy. “You did so good doll!” He pulls his hand away and kisses gently from your pussy up to your neck. 

“I knew better than anyone how kinky you were, but I did not know that.” Dean says

“You hid that very well! We are around guns all the time how did you hide that they turned you on like that.” Bucky chuckles.

“It wasn’t easy but I’m glad you found out. That was…I will remember that for the rest of my life.”

“Damn I’d say we did alright Buck.”

“Alright fuckers! Snuggles than beer and dinner, sound good?” You say laying onto the center of the bed with out stretched arms. They join you and snuggle into your arms just holding each other. Together again, at last.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[fictionalslvr]

Hello! I just want to say I love your writing, I enjoy reading your subby Leon posts hehe If it's possible, can we have an aftermath of rookie! Leon and Instructor! Reader, where it's the day of extra classes after the whole situation and it's all awkward and stuff but reader tries to act normal, maybe a lil tease, but Leon can't take it so he excuses himself to the bathroom to 'release tension' but reader follows him and then oop- got caught. something along those lines, honestly I just want more pervy! Leon

Thank you again <3<3

SYNOPSIS:Leon is a rookie cop who needs an instructor for practical classes, you. But you're so damn pretty that he can't control himself.

PAIRING: Rookie cop¡RE2Leon x Instructor¡F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:1.478k

WARNINGS: SMUT/NSFW Sub¡Leon. Male!Masturbation. Virgin!Leon. Whimpering mess!Leon. Pervert!Leon

NOTES: Thanks for all the love on my writing! And thank you for the idea, it helped me a lot through writing this. Btw, this is the part 2 of this post, so read it first to undertand properly this one ;)

Thanks for all the love, reblogs and comments, they all make me very happy😭🩵

And there is Leon again, sitting on the chair after his expedient waiting for you. After the call he did, when he knew you listened to everything, he immediately hung up the call, leaving you confused, while Leon…he was breathing heavily and extremely embarrassed that you heard everything. He looks everywhere in that room, his eyes don't stop stil, just like his leg, his hands fidgeting while he needs something to distract himself. You will hate him, that's for sure, you will yell at him on how perverted he is. Oh my, he just wants to bury himself in a hole and forget everything that happens.

When the door opens, he almost jumps on his place, his eyes staring at the floor with shame. His breath is heavy and he seems restless.

—"Oh hello Leon. Should we start?"

He looks at you, his eyes a bit confused. Did you forget everything that happened? Well, that's…better…for him. Leon gets up from the chair and his fingers are trembling when he looks at you for a few seconds. You're pretty as always, but your clothes…are more revealing than always, are you teasing him? Of course. It's so weird looking at your face after everything you heard.

Everything goes well, except it doesn't, your breath against his back, your arms wrapped around his is making Leon nervous than ever, but this time, there's a little voice in his mind saying "she remembers everything you did." Leon shivers, his breath stuttering when your hands travel down to his back.

—"Adjust your posture, okay?"

Your voice is gonna drive him crazy, it's a purring melody in his ear, that enters his brain and doesn't leave anymore. Leon nods with his head frantically. Your hands down a bit further, on his hip, pressing your body even more against his. He gulps down the tension, looking at the dummy in front of him while he trembles with the gun in his hands, he can hear you chuckle softly, are you laughing of his state? Do you know what you do to him?

Only your heavy and hot breath against his ear is enough to make him hard, your teasing voice so close like this while you rock your body at his, Leon is dizzy. He looks down for a second, only to see his hard dick on his pants, he widens his eyes, in pure shock, he needs to get this out before you notice.

—"I…I need a break!"

Leon suddenly let this out, his voice sounding so pleading while he can't shoot the dummy in front of him with you like this on him. You gently step back, leaving him with some space and he can finally breathe.

—"Okay, but be quick."

And he nods with his head again, leaving the gun on the counter before running to the nearest bathroom. You watch it closely, there's something wrong with him, that's for sure. Leon enters the bathroom and closes the door behind him with an anormal rush. He sits on the toilet and immediately unzips his pants, leading them down quickly while he looks at his current state, his dick is throbbing, red and looks so painful. Leon groans softly, it hurts so much.

—"Gotta be quick…"

He breaths in and out for a while, his face all red while he touches his dick slowly, the image of you popping on his head immediately, he imagine a lot of things you should do to him, like spitting on his mouth for being so pervert like this, spanking his ass to teach him a lesson or anything like that, it's enough to make him desire you even more. Leon rolls his eyes, the touch getting more desperate on his cock while he thinks of you, you're especially good looking today, the sight of a bit of your butt showing on that shorts…he can only bite his lips and gets enough with his own hands, he don't deserve you anyways, you would find him disgusting. But Leon can't help but imagine…you calling him disgusting while he's like this for her, so needy and looking like a puppy. His hips rock back and forth, looking for any friction to help him in that sad situation.

Before Leon can finish, the door opens suddenly, and he finds you, standing in front of him with a look of disappointment. Leon yelps softly, looking at you with pleading eyes. He immediately tries to get his pants and bowers back, but you hold his wrists.

—"I knew something was wrong. You're a disgusting pervert, aren't you? After that call…you thought i forgot, huh?"

You hold his wrists, your face is a frown while you talk to him in a hiss. Leon looked at you, blinking a few times, and he couldn't help but let a little whimper escape his mouth when you degraded him like this.

—"You're liking this? Liking when I call you a disgusting pervert? You're sick, Leon."

And you chuckle without humor, getting close to him, closing the door behind you two in that tight bathroom, he's looking up at you like a pleading puppy, it's adorable. You smirk softly, letting his wrists go while he has his dick exposed to you, you look down and see that throbbing cock, leaking pre cum.

—"Do you want me to help you, pervert? Huh?"

Leon nods with his head frantically at you, he can't say anything, he's dying in embarrassment, but he wants this so much.

—"Open you fucking mouth and say it to me."

You say to him, grabbing him by the cheeks and bringing his adorable face close to yours. Leon whimpers a little more when you do that.

—"P-Please! Do it, spit on my mouth, use me!! Just please…please help me!"

A smirk grows on your face when he finally says it, he's even more perverted than you thought, actually. You let his face go and observe as he's looking at you with no shame, his face all red while his eyes show the desire he has for you.

—"Open your mouth then."

Leon does it immediately, he's an obedient puppy after all, and this is all he's been craving for, all that he wishes while jerking off. You get closer and spit on his mouth, then you close his mouth with your fingers. Leon doesn't even need you to say before he gulps down like a good boy…this is so fucking sick, but you enjoyed too.

—"Such a sick pervert you are, huh?"

He nods again, he's looking so pathetic like this, it's amazing to have him on your fingers like this. You slowly gets on your knees, looking up at Leon while your hands rest on his thighs.

—"W-What are you doing…?"

Oh, he's still a virgin. What a cutie. You smile softly and open your mouth, getting close to his cock, and this is enough for him to understand what you're trying to do, he rolls his head back and closes his eyes. His fingers wrap on your hair while he's whiny like a bitch. You lick the tip of his cock, teasing him before starts to give him the first and best blowjob of his life. He's gonna enjoy this so much, but you're going to make this pervert even more pervert…but now…addicted to you.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

On a totally opposite end of the spectrum from the role swap-

Imagine if after the Promise chapter things flipped. If after that argument The Operator- out of pure animalistic type curiosity- said “ooh lemme stick my fingers in this sauce here” and left Alex alone to latch onto Jay. Its already discovered how it can push and twist and manipulate one person, but what about a completely separate person? Will the results be the same? Different? Will it be easier or harder?

So it latches onto Jay, and Alex experiences a flat out withdrawal from that thing’s influence, followed by the most gut wrenching clarity. Realizing how crazy he went, how he killed his friends to “save” them when it never would have mattered. So two weeks pass, and all he can think about is Jay- talking to him again and telling him everything, being honest and actually fucking admitting that he cares about him, that he wants to make good on his promise and do things right.

But Jay doesn’t answer. Jay is the one who drops off the planet and goes MIA, and Alex has a horrible, sinking suspicion he knows why. He hopes that Jay just finally got sick of him- he HOPES thats all it is- but deep down there’s this creeping suspicion that its not a coincidence. That he passed his own torment on to Jay like some twisted fucking disease-

He finds out he’s right, later on. When he starts working together with Tim(he’s desperate to find Jay, to fix things, even if that means groveling for Tim’s help-), when they start having run ins with Jay where he won’t see reason, where he argues every point they make and tries to convince Alex that everyone has to die, to help him(and wow, did he sound that crazy too? probably, yikes-)

And in the end Alex makes one last desperate attempt. He meets Jay somewhere alone, tries to convince him to come with him, tells him that he loves him-

But Jay doesn’t believe him. He tells Alex as much(“i love you but i can’t trust you- you said it yourself, why would you ever love somebody like me?”) and Alex wants to cry when Jay throws his own awful words back at him, things he never meant to say-

But what destroys him is when Jay takes the gun that he stole from Alex months ago, puts it to his own head and pulls the trigger with a bang right in front of him.

I’m in a dark mood today LMAO we die like tunnel guy

we die like tunnel guy lmaoooo

fucking THIS tho oh my god the ANGST

i literally have nothing else to add really, my brain saw this and turned into angst mush i fucking love this so much. Jay not believing Alex when he says he loves him fucking OW. This is literally fucking perfect. like, actually.

Everyone come look at this and be fucking destroyed by it because OW. it's especially sad because i'm thinking so much about Alex being the one feeling super hurt and stuff in his uni relationship with Jay, because im writing if it ain't broken at the moment. I am in the perfect mindset for just pouring over Jaylex angst with Alex being the one left feeling worst for it.

Honestly though, Alex finally seeing things fully, truly clearly and realising how terrifying and horrible it must have been for Jay to see him the way he was with the Operator in his head, all angry and not seeing sense and arguing every little thing.

withdrawal from the Operator tho, like, actual withdrawals from it could be so interesting. Like, how would that interact with Tim since he's been dealing with the operator since he was a kid presumably. is he fucked either way? like, if he doesnt take his meds he could get withdrawals from them, and if he doesn't take them for a while then goes back on them does he then get withdrawals from the Operator? Or is it different because the Operator isn't in his head the same way it's in Alex's? is just being near it enough? Like second hand smoke?