#like just point a loaded gun at me at that point assholes

[dragongirltongue]

I'm also just gonna say, threatening a minority with law enforcement is a bigger fucking threat of violence than whatever hammer explosion cartoon bullshit in a tiny ass vent post could ever be.

As someone who's had cops breathing down my neck fucking waiting for an excuse to hurt me on multiple occassions, it's fucking violence.

[lesbonoi]

the "otto killed violet on accident via botched tracheotomy and mycroft bribed the judge to prosecute as murder" is still my favorite ending for a lot of reasons (i personally think it makes the most sense and i think you can still have the other conclusions in the other endings work w it too e.g. sherlock giving his mom the drug plus richter sedating her when she was attacking him = allergic reaction. hence tracheotomy. and i like that mycroft narrates the slides at the end of it). but if im honest i think my favorite part is mycroft still arguing with sherlock while he has a gun pointed at his face

[cowboybeepboop]

Hidden Passion

"I don't think I'm ever gonna forget this night, darlin'. You've been drivin' me crazy for way too damn long."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5200

Summary: Kate invites you along to the group's camping trip and you’ve decided you finally have had enough of Scott’s indifference to you.

Warnings: p in v sex, semi public, unprotected sex, jealous Scott bc I like him jealous

A/n: I’m having fun with all the twisters smut 😭 hopefully you all enjoy. At some point I’m gonna write some more top gun maverick stuff. But as always, let me know if you have any ideas/requests for me 🤗

Boone is your twin brother, which means that you spend all of your time following him and his friends around. Because you’re the ‘responsible’ twin and mostly because his friends really know how to have fun.

Regardless, Boone has been extra careful bringing you around because he’s under the impression that you have a thing for Tyler. So of course when Kate invited you along to their camping trip you just knew you were going to get on his nerves by flirting with the cowboy.

Your brother was right about one thing: you do have a crush on one of his friends. Who just so happens to be the biggest asshole out of them all. Scott. So it's a win-win situation, you can piss Boone off and see if Scott even gives a shit. Even though you know Scott only came along because Javi is trying to get with Kate.

You’re sitting across from the fire with your knee touching Tyler’s, a small smile on your face as you notice your brothers stare. You could tell already that Boone was dreading having you there, but that was part of the reason you wanted to go in the first place. To piss him off.

Scott is sat off to the side with Javi and Kate, he’s drinking a beer with his usual scowl on his face. ”Hey, wanna make some s’mores?” Your cheerful voice rings out through the night air.

Scott’s scowl deepens as he hears your sweet tone, and seeing you talking to Tyler does nothing to improve his mood. He takes a long sip from his beer, trying to quell the growing irritation in his chest.

The rest of the group has mixed reactions but Tyler grabs a stick and puts a marshmallow at the end. “Do you want me to roast it for you darlin’?” You grin up at him.

“Yes, I’d like that.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the flames.

As he watches Tyler roast a marshmallow for you, Scott's jaw tightens. He mutters under his breath, "Darlin'....what a load of bullshit." Your eyes flicker over to Scott and you give him a small smile.

Scott catches your smile and huffs in response, his expression remaining grumpy. He tries to ignore you, taking another sip from his beer, but he can't shake off the irritation that's bubbling up within him.

He glances back at you, noticing you're still talking to Tyler, the marshmallow still roasting in his hand. Scott's grip tightens around his beer bottle, trying to keep his anger in check.

You lean over Tylers lap reaching for the graham crackers and a chocolate bar. Tyler’s free hand goes to your lower back as you hover over him. “Wow there darlin’ be careful.” He chuckles as you find yourself on the log again, the cracker and chocolate prepared for the hot marshmallow.

Scott's eyes narrow as he sees Tyler's hand go to your lower back. His grip on the beer bottle tightens even more, his knuckles turning white. The sight of you leaning over Tyler's lap ignites a fire of jealousy within him.

Your brother's glare bores a hole into the back of your head, his arms crossing over chest. “He’s kind of scary when he’s mad like that,” you whisper to Tyler as he completes the s’more.

“Seems like your plan is back firing on you,” he replies with a smirk, handing the treat your way. You nod as you take a bite of the dessert, a smear of chocolate left on your bottom lip.

Tylers smirk grows wider as his eyes flick to your lip, his thumb moving to swipe the chocolate away. Scott's scowl deepens as he watches Tyler smirk and the way he swipes the chocolate away from your lip. He can feel the anger boiling within him, his grip on the beer bottle almost painful now.

Boone however wasn’t going to sit by and watch you two flirt all night, he gently grabs your arm pulling you away. “What are you doing?” Boone sits you down in between Scott and Javi.

“Stay there.” Your brother commands you like a dog, earning a grin from you.

“I’ve gotten banished,” you say to Javi, nudging his arm with your elbow, turning to Scott to smile at him. He's still fuming over the interaction with Tyler, but your presence next to him has a way of lessening his irritation, even if just a little bit.

Scott takes another gulp of his beer, trying to ignore the jealousy that's still gnawing at him. Javi laughs, "Banished, huh? Can't say I'm surprised." You giggle in response.

“Well in my defense I never thought Boone would get so bothered.” Javi shakes his head with a bright smile.

The night drags on, and the group slowly disperses into their tents, leaving just you, Scott, and the crackling fire in the center of the campsite. You’re both a few drinks deep at this point, and the alcohol has done little to quell Scott’s sour mood.

He glances at you sitting across from him as he takes another swig from his beer. The fire casts a warm glow on your face, and despite his best efforts, Scott can't help but find you somewhat attractive even in the dim lighting.

”Scott?” You murmur his name. Scott looks up as you speak his name, his eyes focusing on your face. He tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding the slight hitch in his breath at the sound of your voice.

"Yeah?" Scott replies, his tone gruff, as he raises an eyebrow in your direction. Scott watches you move closer to him, his eyes tracing the movement of your body. He tries to ignore the way his heart rate picks up at your proximity.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You reach for his half empty bottle, he tightens his grip on the beer bottle as you reach for it.

"Why, tryin' to cut me off?" Scott asks, his voice a mixture of defensiveness and irritation.

”Maybe,” you huff, still trying to steal his bottle, “why won't you let go.” Scott stubbornly tightens his grip on the beer bottle as you reach for it again. He can feel the heat from your body sitting next to him, and his heart rate quickens at your proximity.

Scott grunts in frustration, "Damn it, just leave it alone," he snaps, his voice betraying his rising irritation. You flinch away crossing your arms under your chest.

“Okay, fine, whatever.” You grumble. Scott notices your reaction and internally scowls at himself for snapping at you. Seeing you pout and cross your arms ignites a strange mixture of frustration and guilt within him.

He takes a deep breath as he watches you sulk, trying to calm his irritation. "Look, I'm...," he starts, his voice gruff, "I didn't mean to snap at you like that." You steal the bottle away successfully.

“I know, that’s why I’m trying to cut you off.” You smile triumphantly, wrapping your fingers around the bottle. “You’re even more of a grump than usual.”

He bristles at your comment about him being a grump, but he can't deny the truth in your words. "I'm always a grump," he retorts, begrudgingly, "especially when I'm around you."

You finish off his drink, swiping at your lips as you give him the empty beer bottle. “What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Scott watches as you finish off the beer and swipe your lips with your fingertips. He can't help but notice the way your actions send a jolt of desire through him.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, "I mean that you always seem to rile me up, in one way or another." His statement confuses you.

“Scott, how do I rile you up?’” You’re offended by his words, “Are you saying I piss you off?” Scott rolls his eyes at your question, the alcohol making it harder to suppress his true feelings.

He lets out a scoff, "No, no, not piss me off," he grumbles. "You...you just...get under my skin," he admits begrudgingly. You scoot closer to him on the log, the alcohol you’ve consumed through the night giving you confidence.

“Under your skin how?” You narrow your eyes at him, Scott lets out a growl of frustration as you move closer to him on the log. He can feel the warmth of your body radiating towards him, and it's driving him crazy.

He looks at you as you narrow your eyes at him, and he's hit with the urge to pull you even closer, to run his hands over your body, to taste the alcohol on your lips.

He grits his teeth, trying to control his thoughts as he responds. "You just...always seem to do things that get a rise out of me," he admits through clenched teeth.

”You’re saying a whole lot of nothing Scottie.” Your voice is stern. Scott's irritation sparks at your firm tone of voice, but it's overpowered by the way his heart skips a beat hearing his nickname leave your lips.

He huffs in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. "You just...you're always so damn cheerful and friendly, goddamnit," he mutters, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

”There’s nothing wrong with being friendly” Scott scowls at your words, his frustration growing as he tries, and fails, to articulate his feelings. He knows there's nothing wrong with being friendly, but your friendliness always seems to make his heart race.

"I know that..." he mutters irritably, his eyes scanning your face as he tries to find a way to explain his tumultuous feelings. You set your hand on his knee as you move even closer to him.

“Scott?” You sigh, still not understanding what he’s meaning, maybe it's the booze or his lack of proper communication.

Scott's heart leaps at the touch of your hand on his knee, a jolt of electricity coursing through him. He can feel the heat of your body next to his, and it takes everything in him to maintain his resolve.

At the sound of his name on your lips, he groans, "Goddamnit, stop sayin' my name like that."

“Like what, Scottie?” You tease, Scott's heart flutters at the sound of you saying his nickname again, his frustration mixing with a surge of desire.

He mutters under his breath, "There it is again," he replies gruffly, his tone a mix of irritation and something deeper. "You say my name like it's a damn melody, and it drives me crazy."

A playful smirk places itself on your lips as you lean forward pressing your palms onto his thighs, your face inches away from his. Scott's breath catches in his chest as you lean forward, your palms on his thighs sending a wave of heat through his body.

He can feel the warmth of your breath on his face, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to close the distance between you and capture your lips with his. He swallows hard, trying to keep his composure. "What are you doing?" he manages to ask, his voice a hoarse whisper.

”I just wanted to get a closer look,” your smirk grows as you watch his expression. Scott's heart races at your proximity, his breath coming in short gasps. He can feel the heat of your gaze on his face, your smirk driving him crazy, and all he wants to do is pull you into his lap and taste those lips.

He grits his teeth, struggling to keep his cool. "And what exactly are you looking for?" he asks huskily, his eyes locked on yours.

“I think I see a little bit of a blush on your cheek.” Scott's heart skips a beat as you touch his cheek, your fingertips tracing the outline of his cheekbone. He swallows loudly, trying to maintain his composure as your touch sends shivers of desire coursing through him.

He can feel his face growing hotter beneath your touch, and he knows his blush is becoming more prominent. "Shut up," he grumbles, stubbornly trying to deny the effect you're having on him.

“Don’t be like that, it's cute” Scott's breath hitches in his chest as you pull your body against his, your thighs pressing against his knees. He can feel the heat of your touch searing through him, igniting a fire within him.

He scowls at your words, his face growing hotter with each passing moment. "Cute?" he mutters, refusing to admit how desperately he craves your touch. You sigh with the realization that you’re gonna have to make the first move.

“Scott.. Close your eyes for a second.” Scott's eyebrows furrow in confusion as you instruct him to close his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but he complies, his eyelids slowly closing.

As he sits there, his eyes shut, he can feel his other senses heightened, attuned to every sound and every movement. "What now?" he asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

You cup his cheek, “Keep them closed, okay?” Your breath fans across his face as you lean in. He nods slightly in response, his eyes still firmly shut, his other senses hyper aware of your proximity.

He can feel the heat of your body against his, and his every instinct urges him to pull you even closer, but he remains still, waiting for your next move. You press a soft kiss to his lips, your other hand sliding up his thigh as you move closer.

Scott's heart nearly stops when your lips press against his, a jolt of desire coursing through him. He can feel your hand moving up his thigh, and the sensations sent his mind reeling.

He responds to your kiss, his hand coming up to gently cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jawline. You pull your lips away, your eyes scanning the expression on his face.

Scott's eyes slowly flutter open, his mind swirling with desire and need. He gazes at you, his eyes dark with emotion. He swallows hard, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. "Why..." he starts, his voice low and gruff, "why'd you do that?"

”Why not?” You murmur, leaning in for another kiss. Scott's breath catches in his chest as you lean in for another kiss, his body responding vehemently to your touch.

He allows himself to be consumed by the kiss, his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you onto his lap. It becomes more heated as you push your chest against his own, arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Scott groans loudly in response to your actions, the feeling of your body pressed against his and your fingers in his hair sending shivers down his spine.

His hands roam over your body, wanting to feel every inch of you. He deepens the kiss, his tongue expertly exploring your mouth, tasting the mixture of alcohol and sweetness.

You moan into his mouth at the roughness of his hands against your skin, “Scott, we should go to a tent…” you shiver at the cold air, “It’s getting cold,” Scott reluctantly breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged, his body aching with desire.

He nods in agreement, his mind clouded with lust, desperate to get you somewhere private. "Yeah..." he mutters, his hands still touching your body, almost reluctantly letting you slide off his lap. "Let's go."

You lead him to your tent, your hand comfortably holding his. You unzip the tent and slip inside, pulling off your boots as you sit on the air mattress that you forced your brother to set up.

Scott follows you into the tent, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality of the situation hits him. He watches you kick off your boots and sit down on the air mattress, his eyes scanning your figure in the dim light of the tent.

He closes the tent behind him, zipping it up, and sits down next to you, his body inches away from yours. You smile up at him, the flush of his cheeks darker than before. “You’re so cute Scott,” Scott's heart skips a beat at your words, his cheeks growing even hotter under your gaze.

He huffs in feigned irritation, trying to hide the effect you have on him. "Shut up," he mutters, trying to sound gruff and annoyed, but the hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

”Would you prefer being called handsome?” You tease, your hands reaching out to roam his body. Scott's breath catches in his chest as your hands move over his body, his heart racing in his chest.

He tries to maintain a cool exterior, but the way your touch ignites a fire within him is impossible to ignore. He scoffs, a mixture of annoyance and desire in his voice. "Handsome, cute, it's all the same damn thing," he mutters, trying to remain unaffected by your touch.

”But you love it, don’t you?” You mumble against his ear as you settle into his lap once again. Scott's breath hitches as you settle into his lap, your breath brushing against his ear. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his body practically buzzing with desire.

He growls in response to your words, his hands tracing the curve of your hips. "Damnit," he mutters, his voice a gruff whisper, "You know I do." You respond by kissing him. More passionate than before, your eyes flutter shut as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

Scott groans lowly in response to your passionate kiss, his hands gripping your hips almost possessively. He matches the intensity of the kiss, his tongue tanging with yours in a heated dance.

He pulls you flush against his chest, wanting to eliminate the space between you, the feeling of your body against his nearly driving him mad with desire. You lean against him pushing his back against the bed, hovering over him as you pull away from his lips, asking for air.

Scott's breath hitches as you push him back against the bed, your body hovering over him, dominating his every sense. He gazes up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his chest heaving with each breath he draws.

He reaches up, his hands finding your hips once again, desperately holding on as if he's afraid you might disappear. "You're killing me, you know that right?" he mutters, his voice rough with need.

”Then why don’t you do something about it?” You tease, you voice low and sultry. Scott's eyes darken at your words, a low growl escaping his lips. He flips you over, pinning you beneath him, his body pressed firmly against yours.

He gazes down at you, his eyes locked on yours, his voice a gruff whisper. "Be careful what you wish for, darlin'" he mutters, his lips hovering millimeters from your own. You arch up against his body, pressing your lips to his hungrily.

Scott's breath hitches in his chest at the feel of your body arching against his, the need coursing through him becoming nearly unbearable.

He kisses you back with equal fervor, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. His hands roam over your body, desperate to memorize every contour of your curves. Your arms wrap around his torso pulling him closer to you, your fingers pressing against his back.

Scott groans loudly at the feeling of your arms around him, your fingers tracing patterns against his back, sending shivers down his spine. He presses his body against yours, his desire and need for you escalating with each passing moment.

His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation of Scott's kisses along your collarbone, your body responding to his touch with eager anticipation.

His hands glide under your shirt, his rough fingertips tracing the sensitive skin of your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the tension in the air thicken, the electricity between you growing more intense with every passing second.

The sound of fabric rustling fills the tent as you both fumble with the buttons and zippers of your clothes, desperate to feel each other's skin against your own. Scott's eyes never leave yours, the raw desire in them leaving no room for doubt about what he wants, what you both want.

As the last barrier falls away, your bodies finally align in a dance of passion that's been building for what feels like an eternity, the cool night air forgotten against the heat of your union.

Scott's eyes darken even further as he takes in the sight of your exposed skin, his desire to taste and pleasure you becoming an all-consuming need. He shifts his position, sliding down your body, his hands firmly on your thighs as he spreads your legs wider.

You gasp as his mouth descends upon your pussy, his tongue eagerly flicking against your clit, teasing and exploring your folds with a hunger that's both thrilling and overwhelming. His movements are unbridled, driven by a passion that's been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long.

Each stroke, each lick, sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making you quiver and moan beneath him. You grip the blankets tightly, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as he devours you, the heat of his mouth a stark contrast to the coolness of the tent's interior.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze only serving to heighten the intimacy of the moment. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with every flick of his tongue, and you know that this night is going to change everything between you.

As Scott's mouth continues its relentless assault on your sensitive flesh, you can't help but let out a series of muffled cries, biting down on the fabric of your shirt bunched in your hand to stifle the sounds of your pleasure. Your body tenses, your legs quivering as the first waves of your orgasm begin to crash over you. You clench your eyes shut, trying to hold on to the last shreds of your self-control, but it's no use.

With a final, desperate whimper, your climax takes you, your back arching off the mattress as your hips buck against his face. He doesn't relent, though, his tongue still working its magic as you ride out the intense sensations that grip you, the fabric of your shirt now damp with your efforts to remain silent.

When the tremors finally subside, you collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving with the force of your gasps for air. Scott kisses his way back up your body, a smug smile playing on his lips as he claims your mouth once more, tasting the sweetness of your release.

The sound of your muffled moans only spurs him on, his own need for you growing with every second that passes. He can feel his cock straining, demanding release, but he's in no rush. For now, he's content to bask in the aftermath of your pleasure, knowing that the night has only just begun.

Scott lays down on the air mattress, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you on top of him, a silent invitation for you to take the lead. The feel of his hardened cock pressing against your still-sensitive core sends a fresh wave of desire through you, making your own need for him even more urgent.

You straddle him, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine as you line yourself up with his length. With a look of pure determination in your eyes, you slowly lower yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him fill you up. A low moan escapes your lips as you adjust to the feeling of him inside you, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a mix of passion and challenge.

You begin to rock your hips, setting a slow and steady rhythm that has you both panting within moments. His hands grip your waist, guiding you as you move, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

Each movement sends a delicious friction through your body, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge again. Scott's eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive as you both succumb to the passion that's been brewing between you for so long.

Scott's quietude breaks as he becomes increasingly vocal with every sway of your hips, his breaths hitching in his throat as he watches you take control. His hands glide from your waist to your breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples in time with your movements.

His voice is low and gruff, a series of grunts and moans that seem to be ripped from the very depths of his soul, a primal response to the pleasure you're giving him. You lean into his touch, your own breaths coming in short gasps as you rock against him, the friction building into a crescendo of desire.

The sound of your bodies moving together fills the tent, the only music to accompany the symphony of your ragged breaths and moans. The feel of his strong hands on your body, the way he watches you with such raw hunger, it's all too much, and you know you're about to shatter once more.

You lean forward, pressing your palms into his chest, using it as leverage to drive yourself down harder onto him, the intensity of your movements growing with every stroke. His eyes never leave yours, the challenge in his gaze only making you want to push him further, to make him lose control in the way you're so close to doing. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion and desire.

Your moans sync perfectly with Scott's, rising and falling in tandem as your bodies move together in a timeless rhythm. You feel your orgasm building again, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. His eyes, still locked on yours, grow darker, his pupils dilating with the approaching storm of ecstasy.

You lean in, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss as you quicken your pace, the need to feel him come apart in your arms driving you on. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, his own hips bucking up to meet your movements.

The air in the tent grows thick with desire, the only sounds the slapping of your bodies and the muffled cries escaping from your mouths. And then, with one final, shuddering thrust, it hits you both. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body, making you tremble and clench around him.

Scott's grip on you tightens, his cock pulsing as he releases deep inside you , his own moan of pleasure melding with yours. The world outside the tent seems to fall away as you ride out the intense waves of your shared climax, your hearts beating as one, your bodies intertwined in a dance of pure, unfiltered passion.

When the storm finally subsides, you collapse against him, your breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breath, the tremors of pleasure still echoing through you. You can feel his heart racing beneath your cheek, a testament to the depth of his own release.

The silence that follows is filled with an understanding that transcends words, a bond forged in the heat of the moment that you know will never truly be broken.

You lay your head against his chest, breathing in his musk. Scott's breathing is ragged as he tries to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the intensity of the moment you just shared. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, his body still buzzing with the aftermath of his climax.

He rests his cheek against the top of your head, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your back, his mind struggling to form coherent thoughts. "That..." he finally manages to mutter, his voice hoarse and gravelly, "that was something else."

You smile as you cuddle closer to him, basking in his body heat. “We should do that again some time.” You giggle softly. Scott lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Damn right we should," he mutters, his arms holding you closer against his body.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment before he speaks again. "I don't think I'm ever gonna forget this night, darlin'. You've been drivin' me crazy for way too damn long."

”Have I?” You tease as your eyes flutter shut. Scott lets out a huff at your teasing tone, his arms tightening around you.

"You know you have," he mutters gruffly, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck once again. "You and your damn adorable smile, and your beautiful eyes, and your infuriatingly cute laugh..."

He trails off, his voice growing huskier as he continues to list off your desirable qualities. A blush paints your face as you bask in his compliments. “I didn’t know that you thought so highly of me.” You press gentle kisses into his muscles.

Scott lets out a low hum of pleasure at the feel of your kisses against his muscles, his body already responding to your touch.

"How could I not?" he mutters, his voice gruff and sincere. "You're goddamn perfect, darlin'. Smart, beautiful, kind, funny...the list goes on and on." You bury your face into the crook of his neck, flustered by his words.

“Okay, okay. I think that’s enough now Scott…” your cheeks feel hot against his warm skin.

Scott lets out a low chuckle, feeling your flustered reaction against his neck.

"Awh, you're blushing," he teases, his hands roaming up and down your back. "And here I was just getting started..." He grins, enjoying seeing you flustered by his compliments.

But he acquiesces, not wanting to embarrass you further. He gently pulls your face back, so he can see your expression. You press a kiss against his lips, your eyes falling heavy as exhaustion comes over you in a wave.

Scott returns the kiss, his lips lingering against yours for a moment. He can feel your body growing heavy against his, your exhaustion evident.

He pulls you even closer, your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapping around you. "Let’s sleep, darlin'," he mutters softly, his voice gruff but caring. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Pressure reader finding a gun and now can and will defend themself from monster or execute other people for doing something dumb

I'm sorry but I saw this and decided to run with how finding a gun might actually go for a Prisoner!Reader /lh

..................

"Wow...guess somebody forgot to pick this up. Or maybe Sebastian got tired of me dying to those monsters all the time.."

Staring down at the weapon that was just laying on the floor, you looked around to see if any cameras were currently watching you. Of course, there was a singular one with a red light in the corner above the next door, aimed directly at your position.

They were always watching.

From the comfort and safety of their headquarters, they watched you get maimed by the creatures here over and over again. Whether it's a Wall Dweller sneaking up on you or Pandemonium ramming into the locker you're hiding in nonstop....they've seen it all.

So at this point, you didn't care that they could see your clear interest in the object on the ground.

One you were forbidden to take.

But to hell with them and their rules.

After all you've suffered through down here, you deserved to have some kind of self-defense tool that wasn't just a light source you had to conserve.

Why shouldn't you be allowed to protect yourself? They were going to kill all the creatures who escaped containment, anyways, so if you could kill them now, why not?

Unfortunately, HQ begged to differ, as the moment you crouched down to pick up the pistol, a familiar voice came onto the intercom:

"Do not touch the weapon. Leave it alone and it will be collected by authorized personnel later."

"...figures." You glared at the camera, standing up. "Why don't you tell your "authorized personnel" to put down those sea monsters instead?! I think I'm allowed to defend myself if-"

*pop*

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Back here again, are we?"

"Yeah..I guess.." Grumbling, you rubbed your neck as you looked up at the familiar trio of glowing blue eyes and angler lure. Even now, you still had a killer headache from the PDG detonation.

Then again, that was your own fault.

You didn't need to read the same document twice.

"I don't recommend defying them again. At least..not until you find a way to scramble their connection." Sebastian advised, sighing as he shook his head. "You gotta remember you have no rights down here. Neither of us do. It sucks but, we gotta deal with it."

"The IDS has gone haywire..but they're worried about me shooting through a glass window.." You huffed. "What if it wasn't even loaded?"

"Well I'm not sure if you know this, but prisoners and guns don't exactly go together. Just use what you've learned in the past to avoid the threats. It doesn't matter to them how "badly" you think you needed a firearm. You'll never get your hands on one, and I'm certainly not gonna sell any to you. Period."

"....I guess that pistol would've been useless if it didn't any rounds..."

"Anyway, here's what your overseer had to say on the matter. It's..kinda funny." Sebastian showed you another file, documenting your time and cause of death, along with a comment.

"The EXR-P stumbled across a small firearm that was left behind during the lockdown and defied direct orders to drop it, thinking they were an exception to the rule. This cannot happen again."

"Okay, that's bullshit. They're making it sound like I was an entitled asshole." You pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I can see why. Backtalking them is funny and all until your head pops. If you want them to take you seriously, you'll have to reach that crystal."

"Fine. I'll be a good little expendable and just focus on that." Putting a ferryman token on the table, you looked up at Sebastian. "Tell the guy downstairs I wanna continue where I was."

"Alright. Better not waste it." He swiped the coin, fading back into the darkness.

In the blink of an eye, you returned to the Blacksite, in the same room that you died in. It was clear of any blood that was left behind after your PDG went off, and of course..the pistol wasn't anywhere to be found.

It would have been useless anyways.

On the bright side, you did find a blacklight and some batteries in the drawers that you didn't check before, and you realized it's wiser to just use them to protect yourself.

'Okay. Let's just play it safe and keep going.'

[s0urw00lf]

You matter too

Pairing: Sam Winchester x sister!reader, Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: Your heart breaks a little more when you run into Sam and dean (your brothers) after being casted out by your father years before his death.

Warnings: angst, being disowned, familial heart ache.

When you got home from work you immediately kicked off your heels, ridding yourself of the strain they had put on your feet all day. You looked around your apartment noting how dark it was ‘Aaron must not be home’ you thought to yourself, making your way through the darkness to your bedroom and into the closet, hastily changing into more comfortable clothes you tried to give yourself some relaxation and comfort after your hard day at work dealing with that asshole mark who couldn’t mind his business to save his damn life. You wished Arron was home so you could curl up to him and rant about how much you wanted to strangle that CEO asshole with his tie.

Exiting your closet you sighed, making your way to the kitchen to find something to eat before you heard what sounded like your glass potted plant fall over. Immediately you tensed, stopping all movements, pausing your breath as you strained to hear anything else. When you heard hushed voices it sent you into full throttle. You quickly but quietly made your way to your bed and pulled out the coffin-sized box filled with guns and ammunition and grabbed your shotgun mentally thanking god that you kept it loaded, not wasting any time you slowly tiptoed out of your bedroom looking around the corner and your heart dropped when you spotted to decently sized men seemingly in a disagreement.

“Are you sure this is it?” The shorter one asked, “yes this is the address he gave us” the taller one said, and again your heart dropped. This could be anybody coming to make you pay your dues. After you’d been practically disowned by your father you’ve been on your own since 15, and of course, you’ve made some very stupid choices and gotten in with the wrong people. Now 20 with a full-time job and career you figured your past had finally caught up with you. With your heart racing you stepped out from your hiding place and quickly jumped on the one closest to you, harshly pressing the pressure point in his neck rendering him unconscious, you let him fall and put all of your attention on the taller one, you cocked your gun and pointed it at his forehead and he did the same to you. “You’ve got .3 seconds to tell me what you want before I put a bullet in your brain” you threatened.

You couldn’t see the man's face in the darkness especially since his back was facing the window, his tall frame cast a shadow over you. Your heart raced in your ears “3” you began counting, and quickly the man dropped his hand holding the gun. “2” you continued in confusion, as you started with the last number the man in front of you said your name. You paused in shock, nobody you dealt with in the past knew your real name, you weren’t that stupid. Nobody outside of your family and your boyfriend knew your real name. “Who are you” you questioned, moving your finger to the trigger. “Y/n it's me” the man spoke quickly. And for what you doubt would be the last time that night. Your heart stopped. But not in fear, this time it was in shock. You backed up making your way towards the light switch, keeping your gun pointed at his head. When you flicked on the light and it filled the room your tense frame immediately softened. “Sam,” you said, in shock.

He awkwardly smiled and sent you a wave “Hey” he said, you stared at him, taking him in. The last you saw him, right before he went to college he was skinnier and a little shorter. He seemed to be doing the same thing with you. “You’re so grown up” You nodded awkwardly. Just then it dawned on you that he hadn’t come alone, you circled the couch blocking your view of the man you knocked unconscious. Immediately when your eyes set on him your heart tightened in guilt, “oh god Dean” you said dropping your gun and falling to your knees assessing his head, which had been bleeding. He probably hit his head on the coffee table on his way down. Just as you sat down Dean began to groan, you sat back as his eyes opened, seemingly adjusting to the light before setting his eyes on you. His face immediately changed, and you couldn’t tell what the expression meant. After spending a little over five years away from him you were practically strangers.

“Hey kid,” he said, groaning as she sat up. You winced “not much of a kid anymore if you haven’t noticed” you said. You stood up, looking back and forth between your two older brothers. “What’re you doing here?” You asked folding your arms. Dean stood up joining Sam, awkwardly standing in the middle of your living room. They both looked at each other, silently debating who would be the one to talk, unfortunately, the torch fell into Dean's hands “We wanted to see you” he said with an idiotic smile. You tilted your head not believing him for one second “Then why didn’t you use the door like a normal person” you asked. Dean awkwardly laughed quickly glancing at Sam who rolled his eyes “We need your help finding Dad” he said. You smiled bitterly “Ah, there it is,” you said. You moved over to your kitchen, resuming your task of finding something to eat.

“C'mon y/n don’t be like-“Dean started but you cut him off. “Like what?!” You turned around and shouted at him. “Don’t act like you don’t care, our father is missing-“Dean said, but was cut off by Sam this time “Dean-“ he started but was cut off by you walking toward him. “No, that's where you’re wrong, that is not my father. Maybe a small part of the reason I’m here but he.Is.not.my.father” you seethed. “So what were not your brothers now?” Dean said raising his voice a little bit. “I don’t know, are you dean? Because I don’t recall you reaching out in the past five years. I don’t recall you fighting for me to come home. You wanna know what I recall?” You asked stepping closer to him. Sam watched from behind Dean, he wasn’t there when you were kicked out but he wished he was. “I recall being hated by that man. The unwanted bastard child of John Winchester, that's what I was. And that day he left me at that motel I begged you to stay with me. Not to leave me and you did. I watched you drive away into the sunset while I sat alone in this big world full of monsters wondering how I'd survive alone at fifteen.” Tears began to flood your eyes, as you relived the heartbreak you tried to bury for five years.

“Five years. No calls, no visits, nothing. I was alone and I had to learn how to survive alone Dean and you weren’t there, so I tried to go visit Sam” you said, teary eyes cutting over to Sam, “but he didn’t want anything to do with me, wouldn’t even hear me out as I begged and pleaded for him too. But nope he sent me away, just like john, just like you,” you said trying your best not to sob in front of your brothers. “My big brothers, who promised to protect me, who swore to me that no harm would ever come my way as long as you were alive.”

Sam and Dean stood in front of you, both of their eyes were teary and you didn’t feel the least bit bad, you were happy they were feeling even a fraction of what you felt all those years ago. “John never wanted another kid let alone a daughter, he took me in because he had to. And it took me a while to realize that the same applies to you too” you said, your voice cracked as tears poured freely from your eyes. The silence that followed your statement was deafening. Neither of your brothers could even start to fathom what you’d been through in the time you were alone. The silence was cut when your front door opened, you quickly turned around and rushed to meet your boyfriend at the door. “Hey honey how- why are you crying?” He asked worriedly cupping your cheeks and whipping your tears. Instead of saying anything, you dragged him to the opening of the apartment so he could see for himself. “Family reunion” you whispered so only he could hear. His face immediately changed into pity.

Aaron knew your past having come from a slightly similar background. You turned to Sam and Dean, who hadn’t moved from their spot “You have a-” “boyfriend yeah” you cut Sam off wiping your tears. Glancing from them to Arron who was just shocked. Dean stepped forward, seemingly to play protective older brother, and for some reason, you didn’t stop him. Because even after the hurt they’d caused you, some part of you, maybe that small 15-year-old you, still wanted your big brothers in your life.

Surprisingly to you, Dean didn’t say anything to you, Aaron, he came to embrace you. Sam followed quickly after and joined the hug. Right there and then, you felt all of your hatred and anger towards them melt away. Neither of them was in the clear, but you didn’t want to go the rest of your life hating your brothers because they were too afraid to stand up to your dad. You knew they had their reasons, and even some things couldn’t be placed on John but you were willing to give it a shot at rekindling the relationship you had with them.

Your boyfriend stood behind you watching happily as you embraced your brothers, it was the most relaxed he’d ever seen you and he wanted to keep seeing you in said state. Sam pulled away first, then Dean did and you all stared at each other. “I’m sorry kid, every day after we left you I tried to find you but you were too good, I resented Dad for years after that, and even started hunting on my own because I couldn’t look him in the face and stand the fact that he left you and I didn’t say a damn thing about it,” dean said, the sincerity was shown on his face, and you knew dean was never one to show hid emotions ore even apologize at that, but you could see that he meant every word that spilled out of his mouth.

Sam apologized next “I i wish id known that's why you were there, I thought Dad had talked you into talking me into coming home, and I knew if you did that I would have come without second thought.” He said. You couldn’t find anything to say. You brought them in for another hug, squeezing them as tight as you could before pulling away. you looked at Aaron who stood behind you with a smile on his face “Sam, Dean, this is Aaron, my boyfriend” you said introducing them. Sam was the first to step forward to shake Aaron’s hand “Nice to meet you man” he said with a smile. “You too” Aaron replied. Dean shook his hand next, as much as he wanted to play that overprotective role, he hadn’t earned that right so he played fair and shook his hand giving Aaron a tight-lipped smile.

The three of you knew you had a long way to go, but you were happy to begin the journey.

[nekassvariigs]

Intentionally calling them Husband in scenarios, here's how to turns out.

Crocodile, Yamato, Ace, Law, Raighley, Usopp .

This will be a three? part series cause tumblr doesnt allow more pictures to be added for aesthetic ;-;

Part two will feature:Sanji,Zoro,Luffy,Katakuri,Sabo,Roger.

______________________________________________________________

You gambled away your berries at the infamous casino, not that you were of working class desperate for luck, it was fun watching the ball roll everytime with a little interest for securing a loaded paycheck.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

"Good. You?" you tried not to get in contact with him as much possible not really needing to cause a scene.

"M' Alright, been winning loads t'nite. Whats a pretty thing like you doin' out here?" he rested his hand on his machene trting to support his head.

"Just waiting for my husband." you smiled a little, rolling another time.

"That so, who is he, i see noone ready to come for ya, reckon we could go back to mines?"

"No i dont reckon i could, he should be here in a moment anyway." you sigh, he was a little late, you took out a cigarrette from your bag, lighting it, taking a puff.

"Aye you look so lovely, is a shame yous with someone." the man was drunk spilling everthing he had for a chance.

"Ya think?" you sipped your martini.

" 'fcourse, id give ye the word yknow, show you all round the lands and oceans."

"That so? Are you rich?" you wanted to know since he had enough cash to get piss drunk and not care how much he wasted.

"M the richest here as far as i know, let me treat ya to a drink." he slurred his words not noticing the tall figure approaching behind you.

"You dont mind ordering for two by chance?" you smiled cheekily.

"Course not, everythin for you darlin."

he swatted a waitress ordering another two drinks.

"Say can i show ya round? I know this place good enough."

You took another puff from your ciggarette, fondling it between your fingers in an exspensive manner.

"Aye you ignorin me?"

"Ah there we go, lets light this place up," you thought finally exsposing the nature of this man.

He stepped infornt of you hand on your slot machene preventing you from another game.

"Fuckin hag," he hiccuped, ugh how close was this man from soiling himself with barf.

"Got held up a bit, sorry for being late." Crocodile kissed you, compleatley ignoring the fool by your side. You smiled into the kiss opening your mouth a bit to welcome his tongue, proceeding to have a full blown makeout infront of the drunken asshole.

You pulled away from him your lipstick slightly staining his lips.

"This is my husband, if you want to give me the tour youll have to confirm with him." The man looked pale as a ghost upon seeing crocodile.

"He thinks he a big shot or somethin?" The guy pulled out a gun pointing it to his face and firing.

Crocodiles face dissapeared leaving him standing with half of a face.

"Ou, bad move." You laughed hitting the slots for the last time.

In a matter of seconds Crocodiles hand reached for the man his blood boiling before it turned into thin air, his entire body changing to the shape of a pile of sand within seconds.

"Here's your drinks miss." the waitress came setting your drinks you passed the other to your lover. Completely ignoring the slaughter that took place with a calm expression.

Crocodile downed the whole glass in one go leaning for another heavy kiss.

He whispered against your lips, "So im now a husband?" his low tone rumbling in his chest.

"Only if you want to be one,i had to say something didnt i?" you smiled hearing the slots ding in a jackpot.

"Thats my girl." he closed the space between you again.

Ace

You were making a reservation for a restaurant ace laying beside you lazily. "Hi id like to make a reservation for me and my husband."

His heart stopped for a second, he nudged you with a glint in his eyes.

"Yes we'd like a romantic setting please,"

after a few mintues more of the call you ended it thanking the woman in charge.

"You've got a husband now huh?" he asked pressing his legs against yours.

"I sure do, im looking at him right now." You smiled slyly folding a lock of his black hair behind his ears.

His heart was ablaze cheeks crimson, gosh he looked alluring.

He smiled tackling you onto the couch.

You giggled at his childishness it always was a fun sight.

"Yknow i love you." he confessed sweetly for the millionth time.

His body over yours his hair partially blocking his handsome face.

You hummed reaching for him, his body lowered onto yours as he gave you the sweetest of kisses.

"I love you too Ace." he attacked your neck with rampant kisses like a puppy before planting another onto your lips, his body settled down onto yours for a lazy cuddle. You stroked his hair practically hearing him purr against you.

Yamato

He had rescued you a few years back, your limp body on the shore of Onigashima he couldn't help it, he just hoped you'd make it through.

Skipping time to the present he sat ahead of you near the fireplace a large slab of meat cooking.

Ever since he rescued you you two developed a habit of sharing stories and adventures, iconic fights and daily life, you managed to get along prefectly, seeing your intrests align so much you two became a thing in no time. His strong will to be set free along yours to fight for the top place in the grand line made him even more willfull to see the world.

"Yknow im happy to have the strongest husband out in the entire grand line."

"M-Me?" He blushed the red horns shining beautifully against the fireplace.

His strong heart beating a bit faster as be took in your face. You were so confident in your words it made him happy hearing you depend on him like this.

"Mhm, What would i be doing without you." you pondered making him lean in a little before he stood up, your eyes watching his body move to the side of you, he sat beside you wanting a little more comfort, he hadn't gotten such praise in a while.

"Were not really married tho are we?" he questioned knowing youre together.

"Not yet atleast but one day would be nice. Making a name for the strongest out there." You smiled dreaming of the future. your head resting on his shoulder, he took your hand in his full of determination.

"We'd be the best out there." he laughed.

Usopp

You watched your favourite sniper as he coincidentally managed to strike down a whole ship with a single blow, his eyes growing wide mouth ajar as he looked at you.

"Wooo! That's my husband right there!" you laughed drink in hand as you watched his face change from pale surprise to a warm gooey shock.

"Huh? Me? Thats right, The great Sniper king Usopp strikes again! Have i told you how i beat three Warlords? It was a quick fight they stood no chance!" He laughed proclaiming his lies as if they were true.

You hopped on deck to where he was enjoying his glory, giving him a big hug for his accomplishment.

He stiffened up a bit, remining himself to be calm, he always seemed a bit nervous when you approached him, he liked you that much.

"That's right, praise my glory!" You pulled away giving him the stink eye.

He continued to babble until he started calling himself the Best married man out in the open sea and that's when it hit him.

"!?" a glowing bulb of light went off ontop his head, a dark blush covering his cheeks.

"Ha-Huuu-Huuusssband.!?!" he suddenly thought unable to piece the words together as you looked at him nonchalantly.

He puffed his chest out taking a stance. "A-A-As the best husband i have a duty to fuffil to protect my spouse!" He contained his excitment proud of his new nickname as you kept clapping and cheering for him.

Raighley

Lazing by the bar at Shabody Archipellago a few men were riling themselves up celebrating a big feat.

"Thats our capitan for you! Securing a boatload of treasure!" They cheered and hollered as you swirled your drink reading a magazine.

"Oi miss, celebrate with us!" they laughed alcohol pouring down their throats.

You shifted your gaze towards them giving them a pessimistic side eye.

"-?!" They seemed shocked to be ignored seeming a little alert by how little attention you payed to them.

"Our bad fellas, Young lady here is in a bit of a bad mood today." Raighley excused himself butting in not willing to ruin a good evening, his hand on your shoulder as you continued to swipe through the pages.

"That's right guys, i'm a little off today." You smirked having stolen a sachel of gold from one of them.

They resumed their party as Raighley tooo seat beside you.

"70/30?" He asked calmly negotiating to split the gold you swiped.

"60/40." You offered back checking out a set of clothes toying with the ends of the paper.

A sharp sword near Raighleys throat , his glasses gleaming white as you stayed still as did he, the man yelled.

"Which one of you was it?" He stormed poiting the blade so it shined against the lights beside the bar.

The two of you stayed quiet still neither fazed by the antic taking place.

The man neared his sword close to Raighleys neck, cutting off a few strands of his beard.

That was a no-go in your books. "Oi, You plan to pay for touching my husband like that?" you gave him the nastiest of looks pointing the blade away with the tip of your finger. Raighley smirked enjoying your facade.

"This old fart, your husband?" He laughed, showing his nearly tothless mouth. Pointing the blade back at you.

Raighley took a drink his hand winding over the sword before him. "You wanna pay up? Or do i have to beat the shit out of you for it?"

"Look at his old ass, having a woman stand up for him." The room errupted in laugher even Raighley mocked a laugh smile lines crickling as he did so.

"55/45." He resumed talking with you causing you to chuckle.

"Might aswell 50/50 it at this point." Rolling your eyes you extended a hand for him to shake, he caught it twisting it so your knuckles faced him.

He gave them a peck and in a fell swoop the aura in the vacinity changed darkening quickly,men around you dropped like flies.

'' You've got a bad habit of doing that don't you dear." He looked at you through white brows downing the last of his drink confidently.

He played along causing you to huff in amusement.

''It doesn't hurt now does it?'' you leaned back watching over the passed out bodies.

''Let's go, I think we have outstayed our visit." You got up from the stool, tip-toing around sweaty bodies as you proceeded to swipe anything worth the while.

He followed suite with a hearty laugh, offering his hand to you as you stepped out.

Law

Bepo was pestering you today, the cute bear had a lot of questions for you so you sat back explaining so many things to him now wanting to deny his curiosity.

"So then after a relationship, you get married?''

He asked fluffy hands on the table across you.

''That's right, you get married, then if you want to you can have kids, rule the seas pretty much do whatever your heart desires and you have a trustworthy companion to do so with.'' you gleamed egging on this childish play. Law lazing by the ship a cup of hot tea in his hand.

''So then, do you have a husband?'' he asked noticing you had a ring on your finger, granted it wasn't for official titling you just put in on randomly this morning as it was a fancy peace of jewelry you found.

You chuckled hard extending your hand to showcase the ring to Bepo, Law listening in as he sipped his tea in peace, he liked gossip as well.

''I sure do, it's Law.'' you decided to mess with the bear, his jaw hitting the table as his fluffy hands grasped yours.

Law spat out his drink making it fly across his face hands and clothes. You could feel a looming darkness behind you as you continued answering Bepo's questions about your so called 'husband'.

''Y/n-ya, we need to talk.'' Law didn't even give you the time to get up using his devil fruit to teleport you to his office his dirtied clothes diminishing the raging look on his face.

''In your right mind, why would you lie to Bepo about something like this?'' he wiped away the tea inevitably staining his clothes, you held back a chuckle.

''He was acting very cute, you know how hard it is to say no to his questions.''

Law paused hands on the table before him a dirty paper towel in one hand, he had a glooming aura to him. ''DONT SO SAYING THINGS LIKE THIS TO HIM AND TAKE THAT OFF!'' he yelled surrounding you in his room skill to intimidate you.

You shrieked agreeing to his taunt as you put the ring away, he sighed.

''N E V E R, and i mean that seriously, NEVER tell him such childish imaginations, next thing you'll know he'll be trying his best to recreate a wedding. '' he yelled with a big frown on his face.

The moment you stepped out Bepo handed you a bouquet. Egging you to do a walk down the isle.

Law was in utter terror of how he took on two absolute dumbasses, he stormed back out on the ship, the two of you got rewarded with heavy bumps on your heads and laundry chores for weeks.

[munsonkitten]

Steve hovers.

Eddie doesn’t really blame him. Not after what happened last time.

He doesn’t trust himself either, not really.

So Steve hovers in Eddie’s space while they assemble their weapons. Eddie’s on Molotov duty this time around, pouring kerosene into glass bottles that Steve holds steady. He took over Robin’s task with one look between her and Steve, and one clap on Eddie’s shoulder accompanied by a ‘you’re with me, Munson.’ Robin’s over with Nancy and Max now, counting ammo and loading guns.

Steve follows Eddie when he says he has to go take a leak, following him through Hopper’s new front door and down the hall to the bathroom. He follows Eddie just about everywhere these days, never letting him out of his sight.

It’s a bit annoying, the complete lack of privacy. Well, not complete, as Steve stands on the other side of the closed door, but still not much either. It feels like Steve can hear his every breath, every shuffle of his feet against the linoleum floor.

He pulls down his jeans, sits down on the cold porcelain seat and drops his face into his hands. His hair falls forward, and he knows he should find a hair tie to pull it back at some point, but he hasn’t done that yet. He doesn’t want to think about the looming battle. He doesn’t want to get ready for it.

“You know,” Steve says when Eddie comes back out of the bathroom. “No one would blame you if you just hightailed it out of Hawkins. If you go find Wayne and keep him safe, you know.”

“What, and leave you all behind? I’d be the asshole of the century, Harrington,” Eddie mutters, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Eddie, you almost—”

“I know, Steve,” Eddie snaps. “I know. I almost fucking died last time. Okay, but what? I should just run while all my friends are dying here? Because that’s what’s gonna happen, you know that, right? We’re all going to fucking die, and I’m just supposed to, what? Be completely alone after you all do and I don’t?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just crosses his arm over his chest, and shrugs.

“Say I should leave again and I’ll kill you myself,” Eddie says, pushing past Steve with enough force to push him into the wall.

Then he stops, shakes his head, and turns. Steve’s still standing there with his arms crossed protectively over his body. There’s a quickly masked hurt expression on his face when Eddie first looks at him, and his heart breaks in two. He shouldn’t be fighting with Steve, not when he’s just trying to save him.

He sees it on his face, clear as day, that Steve doesn’t want to have to carry Eddie’s lifeless body out of the Upside Down again. Especially not now when they’ve had a year to get close and become friends. When Steve spent weeks after that first time trying to nurse Eddie back to health, hidden away in his big empty house, keeping Eddie a secret from the outside world, all while learning secrets about Eddie in the process.

They’ve become close, and Eddie shouldn’t be fighting with him when this could be their last day on earth.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Eddie says. “I didn’t — I don’t mean that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Probably not,” Steve agrees. “But it’s okay that you did. I won’t mention it again.”

“Really, I’m — I’m sorry, man,” Eddie says. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“You’re stressed out, man,” Steve says, like it’s so simple, like it excuses what Eddie just said to him. “Once I told Henderson I was gonna knock his teeth into his skull. Shit happens.”

Eddie covers his face with his hands and takes a breath. He’s not a violent person, but he is stressed. He doesn’t think he’s ever had very many good outlets for his feelings other than music, but he hasn’t been able to listen to the stuff he wants to at the volume he prefers the last few days, not with everyone congregating in one place, cooped up in Hopper’s new house. He doesn’t have his guitar, doesn’t even have a notebook to write lyrics into.

Everyone’s a little bit snappish. Everyone’s scared. They’ve all said things they don’t mean, turned around and hugged it out with tears in their eyes. He saw it happen being El and Hopper earlier, saw it between Max and Mike yesterday. Even Nancy, always so calm and collected, yelled at Jonathan for moving her shoes.

Now it seems like it’s Steve and Eddie’s turn.

“C’mere, man,” Steve says softly, opening his arms up for Eddie.

Eddie falls into his embrace, lets Steve wrap himself around him.

It seems like, over the last year, they’ve both been finding reasons and excuses to touch each other. Eddie used to pretend there was something on Steve’s shirt just so he could run his fingers over his chest. Steve used to tell Eddie, long after his wounds healed, that he wanted to look at the scarring on his back to make sure everything was still looking okay. It would result in tender caresses that sent shivers down Eddie’s spine.

It’s never been stated. It’s never been acknowledged.

They never talk about the times Steve comes over and crashes in Eddie’s bed with him, pretending to accidentally fall asleep while they’re smoking together, as if Steve doesn’t put on his pajamas and curl up with his head on Eddie’s pillow each time. They never mention the wrestling, down on the ground with Eddie straddled over Steve’s stomach, never mentioning it when Steve flips him over and pins him down with his hands wrapped around Eddie’s wrists.

The hair washing, back when Eddie couldn’t reach above his head. The hair washing even long after Eddie could. The hands over foreheads checking for fevers, the hands spread over matching scars to make sure nothing’s gotten infected, the hand holding between them on the couch during scary movie scenes that don’t actually scare either of them.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says again. “You’re my best friend.”

Steve squeezes him a bit tighter, presses his forehead to Eddie’s. They breathe each other’s air for a second before the front door slams open and they jump apart.

Someone walks through the house, out of their line of sight. Eddie doesn’t know who it is, or where they’re going, but he grabs Steve’s hand and pulls him into the bathroom. He doesn’t want to be seen, not with tears streaming down his cheeks and his hands shaking the way they are.

He wants to be alone with Steve for just a little while longer.

All this hovering and Eddie still can’t get enough of him.

They sit down with their backs against the side of the bathtub, arms brushing between them. Eddie reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“You’re covered in kerosene, dude,” Steve says, shifting a few inches away from him.

“I washed my hands,” Eddie says around the cigarette in his mouth. He lights it, giving Steve a look that says see? It’s fine when he doesn’t go up in flames.

They sit there for a few seconds before Steve snatches the cigarette out of his fingers.

“I thought you quit,” Eddie says, just like he says every time Steve does this.

“I told you,” Steve says, bringing it to his mouth. “I only smoke when I’m with you.”

“You’re always with me,” Eddie shoots back.

The smile Steve gives in return makes Eddie want to kiss him right here. They don’t do that, though. Eddie… Eddie’s never done that. Never kissed anyone, even though a year ago he said he’d do all the things he wants to do before he dies again. He told himself he wouldn’t die a virgin again, and he laughs to himself now at the memory.

It’s not like he cares about the concept of virginity, or anything. It’s a social construct, and all that, but he’d be a fucking liar if he said he didn’t want to have some kind of sex with someone at some point.

“What’s funny?” Steve asks.

“Not funny, just… You know, it’s like… The last time I almost died, I thought to myself, great, I’m about to die a twenty year old, never-been-kissed virgin, with no high school diploma, and all I’ve ever amounted to in my life is shredding Master of Puppets in hell. Told myself I’d fix all that before I die again.”

Eddie sighs, takes the cigarette back from Steve and brings it to his lips.

“And the only thing that has changed,” Eddie continues as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “Is that I’m twenty-one now instead.”

“Well,” Steve says slowly. “I can’t fix the high school diploma or the whole amounting to anything part of it. But…”

Eddie holds his breath. There’s no way Steve’s about to say it. There’s no way they’re finally going to acknowledge that something is going on between them.

“But,” Eddie repeats. Prompts. Says it so Steve knows he can keep going, that he doesn’t need to be afraid.

“But I could fix the never-been-kissed part. If you wanted me to,” Steve says. “And, um, the rest of it.”

“The rest of it,” Eddie says slowly.

“If you wanted,” Steve says again. He shrugs, looking down at his hands in his lap. “I… If not, that’s — it’s fine. I just thought, you know.”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. “I know.”

Silence stretches between them for a few minutes while they finish the cigarette. Eddie drops the butt into the toilet and flushes it. Wayne always gets on him for doing that at home, but what Hopper doesn’t know won’t hurt in the next twelve hours before they all die.

“Fuck it,” Eddie says. He pushes to his feet and offers a hand to Steve. “Let’s go on a supply run.”

“A supply—” Steve starts, confused. He looks at Eddie, the look that Eddie is giving him, the words he’s not saying, as he takes Steve’s hand and pulls him up. Understanding dons on Steve’s face, and then he smirks. “Oh. A supply run. Got it. You… you’re sure?”

Eddie shrugs. “As I’ll ever be.”

Read the rest on AO3

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone Part 3 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I tried to grab all the tags! If I missed any let me know :)

Warnings: Gangster Eddie/Officer Steve & Doctor Fem Reader, SMUT, slight degrading, spanking, slapping, handcuffs, etc. FLUFF, more details about the guys relationship,

ANGST, Per the previous chapters cliffhanger we get to meet Jason Carver and he causes problems triggering Eddie to react impulsively. Steve and Y/N spend the bulk of the chapter trying to talk him out of it. Steve and Y/N talk about past relationships, The boys fight but its an understanding between them (you'll see what I mean), technically not a cliffhanger ending this time!

Word Count: 6883

Previous Chapter Here

Clearing your throat, you regained your composure as you feigned a smile and extended your palm out to shake his. 

“Hello there Mr. Carver. How can I help you today?”

“Well, like I told the young lady out there, I’m just here for a checkup. I’m embarrassed to say I wasn’t even aware this little office was here and so close to my house!”, he chuckled as he leaned against the counter. 

Your head slightly ticked to the side at his statement as you pretended to read his chart. Carver’s side of Hawkins was nowhere near your clinic with you actually being a lot closer to Eddie’s building then any of Jason’s. 

“Is that right?”

As the gangster nods, he turns his back to you for a moment to check his phone allowing you to sneak towards your sink and turn on the water as you pretended to wash your hands, utilizing your own device as you call Eddie’s phone. 

“If anything happens, you see something or feel unsafe just call my cell. I’m more likely to answer than Steve who’s always on the move.”

Casually fumbling with your hair, you slide the wireless earbud into your ear and slide your device back into your pocket just as Jason turns back around. 

“Please forgive me. Didn’t mean to break one of your rules.”, he laughs softly as he points to your “No Cell Phones” sign.

“Hey princess. I was just thinking about you.”, Eddie’s voice sweetly flowed from your phone.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Mr. Carver. I completely understand.” You heard clicking that sounded like a gun being loaded as you focused on the man in front of you. “Now was there a particular reason you felt like you needed a checkup or did you just wanted to keep up appearances?” 

“No Steve, fuck you. I’m not staying put. This fucker has the nerve to come on to MY territory and…well then I’ll meet you there. You better get there before me because I swear to God if this asshole wants a war… The fuck did you just say to me!? Goddamn it!”

“I have to confess; I did have a bit of a reason. My head and my shoulder have really been bothering me.”

“Steve’s on the way, Y/N. He said he’s a couple of minutes away and so am I. Just stay calm, baby.”

“That’s not uncommon with things like…migraines. I, um, I can run some tests and prescribe you some medication that…that will help.”

Jason takes a few steps toward you as he speaks. 

“I would appreciate that. It just genuinely feels like I got shot in the forehead or something.”, he chuckles as he moves again till he’s right in front of you. 

“I think you should leave.”

“Aw, why? I’ve heard from the community around here that you’d be the person to come to for pain and I’m in a lot of it. You see, I had to bury one of my close friends yesterday.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, honey.”

“Don’t call me that.”, you growl making him smirk down at you before pushing some of your hair behind your ear displaying the earbud. 

“She seems like a strong one, Munson. Beautiful. Girl in uniform. You definitely have a type.”

“Don’t touch me either.”

“Or what, honey, huh?”

The exam room door flies open as Steve barrels through with his gun drawn. 

“Jason. You’re on the wrong side of town.”

“Put me on speaker, Y/N.”

Removing the device from your ear, you do what he says and hold your phone towards the gangster whose eyebrows raise in amusement.  

“Is that my favorite rival?”

“Jason… you’re playing with fire. First you come on my territory, kidnap, and hurt Steve. Then you send one of your idiots to point a gun in my face. Normally this would be strike three but I’m giving you an out here. Stay away from them and off my side of Hawkins and we’ll do the same.”

“You know, Eddie, that sounds like a sweet deal. Let me talk it over with my team and…oh wait. You killed half my team.”

“You hurt the man I love. You started this… Don’t play the victim now.”

“No, you know who’s a victim? Andrew, Patrick, Samuel, and all of my other friends you killed.”, he sneered as his eyes met your own. “Soon you’ll know what it feels like. You won’t know when or where, freak, but I assure you I will be there when your pig and little whore here become victims to. Unless… you want to switch sides and come with me, pretty girl.”

As his hand reached out to touch your face, your fist reached out to punch him, knocking him backwards just in time for Steve to move forward, grab your wrist, and pull you behind him. 

“Like you said, asshole, I have a type. She’s a lot stronger than she seems. However…”

The door to the room opens again as Eddie saunters in cocking his gun and points it in the other man’s face. 

“If you ever pull a stunt like this again or lay one hand on her, there will be nowhere you could run where we wouldn’t find you. I’m not Allen, Jason. I’m not going to let the stupid bullshit you used to do slide.”

Moving aside to stand by Steve, he allowed the gangster to stand and adjust his suit as he headed for the door. 

“You’re right, Munson. You aren’t Allen. The streets ran better with him in charge and you’re nothing like him. You may think these people respect you but I assure you they pity you.”, he spat before leaving the way he came.

The officer immediately turned around and cupped your head in his hands. 

“Are you ok, honey? You did really good.”

You aggressively nod, gripping his wrist as you lean your forehead against his. 

“Yeah, I’m ok. What does this mean?”

“It means I fucking slaughter that asshole and show him exactly how people respect me.”, Eddie grumble as tucked away his weapon. 

“No, it doesn’t. That’s something impulsive Allen would do but not you.”

The gangster chuckled under his breath casually walking towards the officer, placing himself mere inches from him with a stoic expression but eyes filled with fury. 

“That’s the second time today you, Steven, have insinuated I’m acting like my father and second person today to compare me to him. I am the boss of the Munson crew and I know how to handle my business. Now, go back to being the dirty cop and shut the fuck up.”

“I’m dirty because of you, babe. Everything I do is for you.”

“Wait…”, you begged as you step between them, each man prepared to duke it out here in your exam room. “Wait, don’t do this here. We can talk about it tonight in your loft.”

“We?”, Eddie sneered as he backed away. “You two can come over but the conversation will be the same. I know what I’m doing and neither of you have any say but especially you, little girl.”

“The head of a gang just threatened my life. I’m allowed to have an opinion on this.”

“Edward Munson, don’t do anything till we talk or I swear to God, I will arrest you and take you in myself.”

The gangster bit his bottom lip, huffing at he turned to leave. 

“Well then bring your handcuffs, sweetheart, because you will need them.”

##############

Steve stayed with you the rest of the day and after you got off, drove with you to Eddie’s building. As soon as you both stepped in you could feel the energy buzzing around what happened. 

“Hey Marcus. Please tell me he’s at least in his apartment.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington, but he has had people coming and going.”

“Great. Thanks, bud.”

The man behind the desk smiles at you as you wave politely, your other hand firmly locked with the officer’s as he led you to the elevator. 

“Is this normal? Have you ever seen him like this?”, you ask.

“Uh, yeah, but not at this scale.” As the door to the elevator closes, he sighs before turning to face you. “We meant what we said, Y/N, about not hurting you or anything like that but we both can get feisty when we’re heated. If anything makes you feel uncomfortable or you get scared just say that word we taught you, ok?”

The entire week you stayed with them after what happened with Andrew, you not only spent that time getting to know each other but they explained some rules they like to follow when it comes to “playing rough.” Steve told you that due to their line of work sometimes they liked to take out their stresses on each other which made you giggle at the time when his eyes playfully rolled back. 

“We like to go all out, you know? Slapping, choking, degrading… of course, honey, you don’t have to do any of that.”

“I don’t mind you doing any of that. Just don’t like punch me or cut me.”

“Sweetheart, we aren’t into that kinda thing either. Trust me, we see it enough out there.”, Eddie teases as he points absently towards the window. “If you don’t like something we’re doing or you need us to stop just say ‘Red’, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, Munson. She has manners. I like that.”

“Yes, sir.”

The officer grins as he leans down to kiss your lips. 

As soon as you enter Eddie’s apartment you’re stunned by the chaos around you. There were guns laid out in random sections of the living room with a gigantic map of Hawkins on the coffee table. Walking further in, you noticed pieces of glass shattered against the wall with liquid that smelled like bourbon surrounding it. 

“Ed, this is a rash jump. Shouldn’t the retaliation be level with the offense? A war seems…extreme.”

“Alright, Gareth, what would be level for openly threatening me and the people I care about, hm? Kill more insignificant lackies? Steal some of his product? No. If this is what he wants then I’m going to give it to him.”

“Jesus, man. You sound like—” The gangster’s angry glare cut him off as he rose to his feet, relief panting his features when he noticed Steve. “You know we’d follow you anywhere but we…I really think you should reevaluate your strategy.”

Eddie ignores him as he holds his current glass of alcohol in his hand to his forehead as he continues to focus on the image in front of him. The officer pats Gareth shoulder comfortingly as he leaves and you exhale your nerves as you watch these two men you’ve grown fond of interact.

***

“I see you didn’t wait for me.”, Steve sighed with agitation. 

“You’re right, I didn’t, but I haven’t made any definitive moves yet so you’re right on time to say your peace.”

“Eddie, I’m not playing around. If you start a gang war in the middle of Hawkins, I will arrest you and throw you in a cell myself. If you want to act like your dad then I can treat you like him.”

The long-haired man slammed his glass against the table and rose to his feet, striding angrily towards the officer before shoving him furiously in the chest.

“Last time you tried that, babe, we barely made it halfway down the street before you were fucking me and letting me go! You think now you can follow through? After everything we’ve been through? Now that you love me.”

Steve stepped forward shoving the man back with his broad chest.

“With no hesitation, honey. I’d be doing it because I love you. I’m not going to let you get innocent people and/or yourself killed! There are other ways we can do this, Eddie.”

“There’s no other way. I’m tired of his cocky, entitled attitude and I gave him plenty of leeway! His response was to hurt you, threaten me, and intimidate Y/N? No. I won’t have that disrespect!”

“Eddie, doing this won’t gain you that respect. If anything, you’ll lose more or all of it.”, you added trying to help. 

“Oh, sweetheart, if anyone has less say in this, it’s you.”

“My life is now on the line to as well as those innocent people Steve mentioned. I see and heal them every day! You told me when we first met that you didn’t kill people you didn’t have to. You don’t have to do this.”

Eddie glared into his boyfriend’s eyes as he reached for his phone and started dialing. 

“Hey, Jeff. Yeah, get everything together and—”

Steve hand flew, knocking the device from the gangster’s hand as he tumbled to the side and caught himself on the couch. 

“Jeff, it’s Steve. Ignore that order. As a matter of fact, all of you head home for the night, ok? Mr. Munson and I need to have a talk so he won’t be making anymore decisions tonight.”

With exception force, he threw the phone hard against the wall, not even flinching when it shattered. Both men stared each other down as the fury burned around them and you’d be lying if you said watching them angerly pant as their dominance oozed from them didn’t turn you on a bit. 

 Eddie lunged toward him and you watched in aw as both men began to fight each other. The officer got the upper hand, pinning him to the floor, and pressing his knee into his shoulder blades as he handcuffed his hands behind his back. 

“Be careful, Steve! He’s still healing.”

Rolling him onto his back, he checked the gangster’s wound that was exposed due his shirtless physique that had Steve not just checking his side but his entire upper body. 

“Why are you acting so impulsively? This isn’t like you.”

“Well, this feels familiar. You sizing me up while I’m on my back, handcuffed. I’m starting to think the reason you restrain me is because you can’t control me without it. Just like how you think threatening to take me in will get me to submit to what you want.”

Keeping both knees straddling his waist, Steve’s palms caressed his stomach around to his back, his eyes never leaving his boyfriend’s as he removed the cuffs accepting the challenge. 

“I can control you just fine without restraints. Now… are you done with your tantrum, little boy, or should we keep going?”

The condescension in his partner’s voice infuriated the gangster as he smacked him in the face and tried to throw him off him. This just spurred Steve on more as he grabbed the man’s wrists and held them to the floor. 

“Honey, can you help me?”

Nodding, you scurried his way and when his eyes gestured towards his belt, you immediately unbuckled it, even going the extra step of pulling out his cock for him.

“Thank you, pretty girl.”, he coos, tilting his head towards you so you could kiss his lips as Eddie struggled beneath him. “See? She’s a good girl.”

“She IS a good girl. That’s why I’m doing this; to protect her.”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re doing this for us, Eddie, because we don’t want you to do this.”

The gangster’s jaw clenched at your words causing Steve to sigh in frustration as he leaned down till the tip of his cock was resting on his lips. 

“Open.” When his partner remained still, the pretty boy rolled his eyes, shuffling the man’s hands into one of his own so he could free his other to reach behind him and place it on the massive bulge in his slacks. “OPEN.”

Eddie’s eyes fluttered as Steve continued to massage him and without prompting you slide towards the gangster’s waist and unbuckled his pants as well. 

“All the way off, baby. He needs to be exposed and vulnerable because that seems to be what he’s into now a days. Right, little boy? That’s what this move you’re planning will do.”

When Eddie moaned, Steve turned to see just as you were running your tongue down the veins of the man’s length. 

“She’s a lot nicer than I am because I assure you I’m not going to be that gentle. Now…OPEN.”, he growled. 

He tried to remain steadfast but when your lips enveloped him, Eddie couldn’t help but groan allowing Steve to slide into his awaiting mouth. Releasing him from his hold, the officer balanced his hands above his boyfriend’s head as he thrust into him as you lightly mewled at the feeling of Eddie’s palms petting your hair. 

“Fuck. That’s it. Keep that sassy fucking mouth open for me.”

Coming around to their front, you help Steve remove his shirt before leaning down beside Eddie’s forehead to tenderly move his hair away from his face. Even though they were upset, both men sighed at the action. You were a nice contrast to their rough lifestyle, not just when you played but in their relationship as well. 

“Eddie, please, there’s another way we can do this without people getting hurt.”

Wrapping his arms around his waist, the gangster flipped the officer over and you slid back a bit to allow them to wrestle. You noticed immediately that a lot of Eddie’s fight had decreased especially when Steve’s back hit the wall as he circled his legs around him, locking the long-haired boy in a position that had him thrown over his lap on his stomach with his ass exposed. 

Gripping his wrists again in one hand, the other free one came down hard on his behind making Eddie groan. 

“She’s talking to you and she’s right, Ed.” Squirming against his hold, Steve’s hand came down again. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?!”

“FUCK YOU!”

His deep, authoritative voice startled you but not his partner as his palm came down once more before sucking on two of his fingers and sliding them into his entrance. 

“Are you trying to prove something? Everyone already knows you’re a badass to be feared if needed.” Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers tapped that spot inside of him that drove him crazy. “You keep saying it’s a respect thing but I don’t believe you. People respect you except that fucking, preppy moron but that’s one man. We don’t need to kill a bunch of people to prove a point to him.”

Steve spanked him again as he mused.

“Is it me?”, you asked in a small voice that makes Eddie’s head hang as his hair blocks his face. “Is it because of what we talked about…about how I’m another vulnerability?”

“I won’t allow anyone to fucking hurt you.”, he grumbled as his eyes shot up to meet yours. “Anyone.”

With incredible force, Steve pushed him off his lap and rose to his feet, pulling up his pants, and collecting you in his arms before carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom. 

“Grab anything you may need, honey. We’re going to my place.”

“You have a place?”

“Yeah. Can’t really have it on record that I live with a gangster.”, he chuckles, his face hardening as Eddie enters the room. “You promised me that you wouldn’t let your feelings for me affect what you did out there. We agreed that extended to her when we decided to bring her into our world. If you really want to fucking burn down Hawkins to show the city that we are yours then we’ll remove ourselves from the fucking equation. Oh, and she’s not a vulnerability. Personally, I think she’s one of our strengths. One of the few fucking positive things about us and in our lives.”

“Why do you think I’m trying to protect her?!”

“EXCUSE ME! But haven’t I protected you two?!”, you angrily spit towards Eddie. “You I’ve saved twice, remember? I don’t NEED you to protect me. I can protect myself just fine. I like knowing I have you two there for me though. I…I make myself vulnerable FOR you. That doesn’t mean I’m weak. I’m not afraid of Jason Carver. If anything, I’m more afraid of you right now and what you might do.”

Eddie let out a heavy sigh as his palm flew up to his chest. Taking a hold of your hand, Steve led you past the brokenhearted gangster and out the front door.

##############

Grinning softly, you took in the new dwelling Steve had brought you to. It was a modest, brick interior, studio apartment on the fifth floor of a complex that had a good view of the city. The walls were pretty much bare except for the couple of pictures of sports cars and near his bed his certificate of graduation from the police academy. In the corner, he had set up a little gym area with weights and a treadmill with the same fantasy book off to the side that you remembered on Eddie’s nightstand. 

When you flashed it to him questioningly, he smiled. 

“Eddie loves that crap. Whenever he babbles about it, I at least want to know what he’s talking about.” 

On his nightstand, he placed his badge and gun right beside the medication you prescribed him making you beam when you see he had been following your instructions. Beside his lamp and phone charger was a framed photo of him and Eddie different from the one the gangster had. In his photo, Eddie was on a kitchen counter somewhere with his legs reaching to wrap around Steve’s waist as his ringed fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. Their lips were inches apart, noses just barely touching as Steve smirked down at him. 

“We need to get a picture of you so we both can have one.”

“Does it worry you? Like if you invite a friend over who’s on the force and they see that?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m kind of an asshole. I don’t have many friends.”, he laughs breathily as he runs his fingers through his hair and takes a seat beside you.  “The friends I do have know about us. If I ever go somewhere work related or with any of the other officers I usually go to their places. And of course, I’m the only cop that goes to his place so…”

Your own fingers tenderly reach out to caress his cheek and run down his muscular back making him sigh as he closes his eyes. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah… I’m just…I’m just worried. I really don’t want him to this.”

“Would you genuinely take him in like you said?”

“I would. Which means I would most likely get arrested to.” Opening his eyes, he glances your way seeing the slight confusion as he continues. “If I just brought him, it wouldn’t be enough. I’d have to tell them how I knew it was him and then everything else but…at least he’d be safe. Unless they send him to the same place his dad is at…Fuck.”, he groans as he rubs his palms over his face.

“What would happen to me?”

His head abruptly turned at your question as he became more serious. 

“Nothing, baby. I promise. You’d be safe. Eddie has people that would watch over you for us and of course anything else you may need they can get it.”

“I need you two.”, you cry as your head hangs. “I like you both so much… I don’t want to lose you.” Steve’s arm shot out to pull you to him so he could hold you tightly to his chest. “God, what is wrong with me? I’ve never been this, I don’t know, clingy before.”

“We tend to have that effect on women.” He laughs and pretends to flinch when you pull away to lightly slap his arm. “Does it bother you? I mean do you like it?”

“I do. It scares me a little bit sometimes. Eddie says we’re his vulnerabilities but for me…being open like this…in that particular headspace… Most men are always intimidated by me when they first meet me and lately I struggled to get past that first date. My last relationship…didn’t end well…so I put all my energy into finishing my PhD and working.”

“I can understand that. I did the same thing after my last relationship. It’s part of the reason I had the balls to go after Eddie. I did so much reconnaissance and sleuthing that I thought I had enough to bring in the leader of a mafia gang. He, uh, wasn’t what I thought he would be.”

“Kind?”

“Goofy. He told me a dad joke that made me laugh. By the time we got near the station, I didn’t want to let him go. Over the past 10 months, I’ve learned how sweet, nerdy, and adorable he can be.”

“I learned the same thing about you.” Steve scrunched his nose as he laughed at you. “I did. You were a bit of a jerk and I thought you hated me.”

“I told you I’m a jerk!”, he grinned till you both calmed down and he tenderly petted your head. “No, baby, I didn’t hate you.”

A knock on the door had you both more alert as he placed his finger over his mouth in a shushing motion while he reached for his weapon. Rising to your feet in preparation, you watched as he slowly moved towards the sound, exhaling after looking through his peephole.

Lowering his weapon, he opens the door to a disgruntled Eddie who barges through and throws his leather jacket on the couch, his face instantly softening when he sees yours. 

“Why are you crying? Is everything ok?”

You wipe your face as he hurries towards you, giving you a once over as you nod.

“Yeah, Eddie. I’m ok. We were just talking about you…how much we care about you.”

“Why are you here, Munson? Don’t you have a massacre to dictate?”

Blinking, he readjusts himself so he can address you both. 

“Steve, when you showed up at my door after Carver’s guys jumped you, it scared the hell out of me. You were in so much pain and…”, his voice cracks before clearing his throat as he continues. “I remember what it was like having the shit kicked out of me and the fact that someone had the balls to do that to someone I love; someone that’s mine. I saw red. When Jason showed up at her work threatening to do the same…Baby, I lost my fucking mind.”

“Clearly.”, Steve chided, sighing when you flashed him a stern look. “She’s not just yours, you know. It’s not solely on you to watch out for her. You don’t think when I saw him pressing up against her and calling her a whore I didn’t want to shoot that motherfucker then and there? You’re also mine, Eddie, and if I have to arrest you to keep you alive…” 

“Are you still going to go through with it? Going after Jason?”, you ask, relief washing over you when he folds his arms and shakes his head. 

“You both were right. There are other ways we can attack him without innocent people getting hurt.” The gangster’s beautiful chocolate hues glance towards you. “I’m sorry I scared you.” As your arms wrap around him, he exhales heavily into your hair as his fingers cling to you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s ok—”

“No, it’s not.”, he scolds himself as he tilts your head back to look at him. “Don’t you ever let either of us get away with bullshit like that. It’s one thing to dominate you. It’s another to frighten you. We don’t want to do that with you.”

“So, what I’m hearing, Edward Munson, is that you need to be punished.”, Steve teases causing the other man’s eyes to playfully narrow as he bows towards his boyfriend extending his arms on either side. 

“I’m all yours, Officer.”

“Hm.”

Grinning, he steps forward, placing himself directly in front of him before forcefully turning him to face you as he pats him down. 

“God this feels so vaguely familiar.”

“Because it’s been done so many times in the past?”

“Only by you, baby.”

Steve’s face hardens as he spanks the man in front of him as he leans over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

“Stop talking. You’re in a lot of trouble.” 

You watch with intense desire as his palm glides over the gangster’s pockets and reroutes around to the bulge in his slacks. Eddie groans as he licks his lips, his hips slightly grinding to find more friction.

“Too bad you were a bad little boy. We could have been sucking you cock right now or you could be sinking it into her tight, wet pussy. But no… you had to play big man in Hawkins, didn’t you?” When his boyfriend doesn’t answer, he spanks him again. “Didn’t you?”

“Ah, fuck. Yes.”

Abruptly grabbing his wrists, Steve handcuffs them behind Eddie’s back, guiding him towards his mattress, and tossing him stomach first onto his bed. 

“Can you do me a favor, sweet girl?”

Stepping closer to him, you allow him to murmur instructions to you making you nod before lightly kissing his lips. After completely disrobing, you climb on to the bed in front of Eddie and per the officer’s instructions, open your legs wide for him to see.

“Fuck, angel. You’re so fucking beautiful.”, he compliments in a strained tone as the other man reached underneath him to remove the gangster pants and boxers. 

“Yeah? You like my pussy, baby?” Scooting a bit closer to him, you bite your bottom lip and grin as he nods, tilting his head to kiss your inner thigh. As his kisses trail further up towards your legs, you push yourself back, denying him what he desperately wants. “Oh, I’m sorry. Officer Harrington said you weren’t allowed.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder as he listens to Eddie whine while hanging his head.

“No, hey, keep your eyes on her.”, he scolds, gripping his jaw and forcing his head up.

The long-haired boy groans as your fingers glide effortlessly through your folds, the sound of your wetness making him harder as he tries to relieve the pressure by rutting into the mattress. His boyfriend roughly loops his arms through his own, bringing his back to his chest as he guides his cock into his entrance. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s it.”

You had never really been privy to seeing them be sexually intimate and you never initiated any of that in the bedroom. You wanted them to feel comfortable especially since you were the newcomer to the relationship and dynamic. Seeing them now as Steve slammed his hips into Eddie’s, lifting and holding his upper half with his arms alone as the gangster practically drooled mewling his name; it was the sexist thing you had ever seen. 

A small cry left your throat as you pushed two of your fingers into your needy hole.

“Aw, look what you’re doing to her, honey. She wants your mouth in her cunt so bad. I bet you do to, huh?”

“I-I—fuck—I’m sorry.”, he sighed exasperatingly. 

“I’m sure you are.” Pulling out, he smacked his ass before bouncing on to the bed on his back and man handling his boyfriend till he was positioned over his cock. “You better ride my dick fucking hard.” Holding the base, both men moaned as he lowered himself on to his firm length and did what he commanded. “Mmm—fuck—come here, Y/N.”

After crawling over to him, he tugged your arm and shifted your body till you were sitting directly on his face. 

“I got you, baby.”

Steve wasted no time, his fingers digging into your thighs as his thick, masterful tongue went to work. Eddie watched you both with glassy, lust filled eyes as he bounced and grinded on the man he loved. Leaning towards him, you couldn’t help but capture his lips and was surprised when the officer allowed it. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am. Fuck, his cock feels so fucking good.”

“I forgive you, Eddie. I forgive you. YES! Steve, please. I need him.”

His hold around you tightened as he shook his head between your legs, his lips making obscene slurping sounds as he flicked his tongue against your clit at an overwhelming pace. 

Panting, your body trembled as you came as his tongue continued with its assault, elongating your high. After a soft kiss to your thigh and a firm tap of your ass, you climbed off him, waiting for instruction. Sitting up, he grabbed Eddie’s cheeks and kissed him passionately making the gangster groan at the taste of you on his boyfriend’s mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. You know how I am sometimes.”

“Hot headed? Stubborn? A pain in my ass?” They both chuckled softly, the officer running his thumb along his lips. “We talk to each other right? Figure things out together.”

“Yeah, baby, we do.”

“ALL of us. That includes her now. She makes us stronger.”

“Yeah, she does.”, Eddie smiled as he glanced your way wishing he could touch you. 

Giving him one final kiss, Steve leans back and pats his lower stomach. 

“Come here, honey.” Taking his hand, you let him direct you till you were straddling him with the other man’s cock teasing your pussy lips. “You’ll have to slide back on him but he should be able to do the rest.”

Nodding your head, you reach behind you to hold his length as you guide him inside of you. 

“Oh my fucking God.”, Eddie growls as you mewl at the stretch. 

Steve’s large palms grip your hips as his boyfriend start’s bouncing and thrusting his own. 

“Does that feel good, Y/N?”

“S-So good.”

“Shit. You’re both so fucking sexy That’s it. Just let go and take it like a good girl.”

Your breasts hang perfectly in front of his face and when his mouth attaches to your nipple, your pussy clenches around Eddie making him whimper as he picks up his pace. 

“Please, Eddie. Make me cum.”

As he does his best to honor your request while restrained, Steve licks his thumb and massages your clit driving you crazy as you push up and lean against the gangster’s chest. You feel him grunt into your shoulder as he releases inside of you, you following as you moan his name into the ceiling. After lightly spanking you, you collapse to the side and watch as Eddie falls forward knowing the man he loves will be there as Steve cups his cheeks and thrusts roughly upwards chasing his own high. 

“That’s it, Eddie, baby. Take it, take it, take it. That’s my good boy. Fuck.”

They both groan as the man underneath him thrusts his spend deep inside of him, his mouth falling open as he pants against his lips. 

“I love you so much, Steven, fuck. I love you.”

As the gangster croons into his neck and they continue to whisper admiration for each other, you tip toe towards the officer’s set of keys and quietly reappear to free him. His palms promptly come to pet the boy’s head, kissing his forehead before playfully wrapping his arms around you and dragging you over Steve to place you between them.

A warm feeling washes over you as both men roll on to their side to nuzzle their noses against your cheeks as they hold you. 

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep or for how long but the strong, delicious smell of pasta caused your eyes to flutter open. Eddie was still knocked out beside you but due to the small space you could see Steve with his bare back to you in sweats at the stove. One of his shirts had been placed by the bed and you smiled as you slid it on, shuffling towards him. 

“Hey you. I’m making dinner if you’re hungry.” His grin grows when you nod, turning his attention back to his sizzling pan. Hopping up, on to the nearby stool by his counter, you notice a file with Jason’s name on it.

“May I?”

Glancing that way, he hesitates for only a moment before giving his approval. 

The file itself was thick with photos and notes of Carver’s gang showing that the officer really did take his job seriously as you browsed through the details. Kind of like Eddie his father passed the reigns to his son Jason but unlike him, his father was still out and walking freely. He seemed to still have a bit of sway when it came to the clan itself but otherwise he trusted his son. He had been running things for a couple of years before Eddie took over and due to the change Steve noted a few things you found disturbing.

“Hey. Put that down and try this.”  You smile as he holds a spoon to your lips and he beams with pride when make a tiny yum noise as he turns back around. “My mom was actually a pretty good cook. She taught me a thing or two.”

“Jesus Christ, it smells good in here.”, Eddie announced, grabbing a desk chair and sliding obnoxiously loud over to you two making you laugh. While tilting up to kiss you, he yanks the file from your grasp. “Bad Officer Harrington. Letting her snoop.”

“She’s not snooping. She asked and I said it was alright.”

“I’m glad you’re not going after him, Ed. There’s some things in there…”

“Yeah. Jason Carver is a prick. I’m surprised his dad lets him get away with half the shit he does but unless George Carver deems you worthy so to speak he doesn’t give a damn.”

Your head shot up as an idea hit you. 

“Wait a second, Hawkins does a charity thing every year where the wealthy show up to throw money at causes to make them feel better about themselves.”

“Yeah, my parents go to that.”, Steve replied with a hint of sarcasm you didn’t miss. 

“My dad was always invited but never went. He never felt the need to pretend to be a good man.”

“But that’s why I never went. I had heard that the head of the Carver’s attended.” They both continue to stare at you with confused eyes causing you to let out a frustrated sigh as you rise to your feet. “The sponsors of that party have funds for Hawkins medical funds but the bulk of it goes to that general hospital. I’m still always invited…if I wanted to mingle with the donors…make an impression… Come on, guys.”

“Honey, just say what’s on your mind.”

“I can go with Eddie and we can talk to Jason’s dad. Maybe somehow convince him to get his son to leave us alone.”

They exchange a look before the gangster finally speaks. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, that means you’d have be seen with me and not just by the Carvers. My team, a few of our friends, and apparently Jason somehow knows about Steve but otherwise he’s hidden. If we go to this event with you on my arm, EVERYONE will know.”

“Including the police, baby. Which means you could have more eyes on you and pressure pushed when it comes to him.”

Your head hangs as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“I would never turn you over or tell them anything. I swear…”

“No, honey.”, Steve quickly explains. “We aren’t worried about that. We just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Of course, we can protect you in that regard from getting into any kind of legal trouble.”

“Your family and friends will have something to say—”

“I don’t have much family and I work 24/7 so I don’t have time for friends. Honestly, the only thing I care about is that clinic, my patients, and you two.” The genuinely smile at that last bit making you blush. “I do. I care about you very much. It’s been a long time since I felt like I wasn’t just coasting through life. These past couple of weeks I’ve really enjoyed having someone to talk to, to hold me, even just hear someone tell me I’m fucking beautiful.”

Eddie gets to his feet and tenderly kisses your lips.

“You are beautiful, angel. Ok, I need to take you shopping so we can get you a new dress.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t HAVE to. I want to.”, he grins. “We need to go over some rules and things if we are going to pull this off. “

“I can come to. Since my parents are attending, it wouldn’t be odd for me to be there and I can keep an eye on you two.”

“My knight in shining handcuffs and a holster gun.” Steve sticks out his tongue as Eddie giggles like a little kid. “Alright, princess, this won’t be the last time I ask but are you sure you want to do this?”

Your gaze shifts between them as a heavy sigh exits from your lungs. 

“I’m sure.”

###############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive

[keravnous]

the hunter! ; tangerine x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 2 here | read pt. 3 here

Tangerine expected someone else - but he'll do just fine with you, too.

(Based on that one scene from the Kraven The Hunter trailer where he turns around in that chair with the loaded crossbow)

warnings: kids, this is dark; this is like the darkest version of tangerine my brain has cooked up thus far; he is a sociopath by source sooo: manipulation; dub-con/non-con, coercion, gun kink, anger issues, crying, blood, murder/injuries, daddy kink, masturbation, slight dumbification, name-calling, pet names, corruption kink, spit kink

SO I SAW THE KRAVEN THE HUNTER TRAILER AND I REALLY COULDNT HELP MYSELF

"You fucking asshole!", you scream at the top of your lungs, bursting through the large door of your husband's office. It slams back into the lock just as you come to a halt on the expensive fur carpet in the middle of the spacious room.

His chair is facing the wall, a lit cigarette slowly glimming away in the ashtray. It lights up your rage like a match to gasoline.

"I am fucking speaking to you, you fucking dickhead! Can't you keep your dirty-ass dick out of that disgusting bitch you call a secretary for one day?", you are fuming, heart racing as you stomp down with your left heel, throwing your expensive and ridiculously small purse at him, missing the chair by nearly a whole foot. It crashes into the massive painting hanging behind the desk, where it leaves a nasty cut before falling to ground uselessly.

Your husband does not react and that, oh that, that get's you going alright, makes your blood race through your veins so hard you can hear it in your ears.

"I am fucking speaking to you -- turn the fuck around you coward!", you yell, hands clutched to tight fists, your jewellery cutting into the flesh.

Slowly, comedically slowly even, the chair turns. The man sitting in it puts his feet up on the table, legs clad in an expensive navy pin-stripe as he crosses them. And that --

That is not your husband.

The man, sitting in a chair that clearly isn't his, in an office that surely doesn't belong to him, is lean and a lot more handsome than the man you so reluctantly married a few years ago. His face is expressionless, bland like piece of paper, except for the anger pooling around his eyes. He is wearing an expensive looking pin-stripe suit and his hair is neatly combed back, 70s porn stache trimmed just as carefully - the only thing that looks out of place is the blood splattered on his face like freckles, one large splatter on his left cheek.

He is also pointing a gun at you. An actual fucking gun.

"And who the fuck are you, Lady?", he says, casually, but a little irritated nonetheless.

You choke on your own tongue, backing up a little. This is not good. It has your fight or flight kicking in, muscles in your back and legs tensing up and brain going numb, fingers starting to tingle.

"Don't ya move an inch", he growls, his gun following your movement. You freeze. You wonder if he will actually shoot you. You wonder what he is doing here.

"I-, I--"

The man rolls his eyes at you - pretty, pretty eyes; blue like the sea - and huffs out an exasperated sigh.

"Fuckin' answer me." His tone sends shivers down your spine and, if you did not already do so by his gun, you now know for sure that he is not playing around.

"I-", you take a deep breath, voice shaking and thin, "I- I am Markov's wife?"

It comes out more like a question, than an answer, really. You hope it will do; you hope he is happy with what is the - for you, rather sad - truth.

Tangerine cocks an eyebrow, leans back in the leather chair, gun still pointing at you. "'S that so?"

"Y-yes", you gulp.

"Didn't know he had a wife", he mutters, more to himself, really.

Tangerine can feel how the wheels in his head start to turn - the intel didn't suggest a marriage. It genuinely surprises him - not only because people in this profession rarely have spouses - but also because the young lady in front of him is way too pretty. Angelic, even. Too good for a boastful, careless cockroach of a criminal like Markov is. And he wants her, wants to own her. Wants to take take take. He wonders just how quickly she will break.

You, in the meantime, sense an opening.

"W-what do you want? I can g-give you money", you hastily stumble over the words, anxiety crawling up your spine, "A-all of it!"

The man raises his eyebrows, snorts amused. "No, love, I don't need your money."

"A-anything, p-please - just, just", and the dam breaks, eyes tearing up as your eyes zero in on the gun, "Just please d-don't kill me."

Something in his eyes changes, a dark shadow dancing over his face, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and then he pulls back the hammer of his revolver with his thumb. Your knees buckle a little as you hear the bullet snapping in place.

"Care to say that again, eh?" - Anything for your life, really.

"P-please don't kill me", you nearly sob, voice small and quiet, and you are ready, willing to put it all in there, "Please, I am begging you, Mister. I- I don't know why you're here, this - this is one big misunderstanding, I don't know anything about my husband's business. J-just let me go, please."

He does not move. You don't want to die, you are young, you still have a life to live. Maybe you will finally file for divorce. Maybe you will buy a house in Europe. Maybe, maybe, maybe -- You don't want to die.

"Please."

Tangerine says nothing for a moment, then his lips tilt up. "Tell me, love, d'ya beg for him that prettily, too? Or 's that just f'me?"

You blink. "What?", you blurt out.

"Jus' lemme hear it again, sugar - sounded so sweet, that."

You do not know what game he is playing but you really aren't ready to die yet either, so you give in.

"Please", you beg, looking at him with big, teary eyes - the barrel of the revolver stares back, a small black hole of ultimate death -, "Please, let me live." His lips tilt up and you decide to make a move on it, catch him off-guard.

"I-I'd do anything, I give you whatever you want!", you are growing desperate now, your brain trying its hardest to come up with something that will safe your ass. And that, that has his eyebrows knotting together.

The man seems to mull it over for a short while, eyes you up and down. Your skin tingles with it, feels numb and like it is on fire at the same time. "Did ya just say Anything, love?"

"I-I did, y-yes", and your voice grows desperate, "I'd do anything - just don't kill me, please, what do you want, I'll do --"

You ramble on and Tangerine rolls his eyes at you, exhales annoyed.

"Fuckin' shut up", he growls and you do, chin quivering a little with the tears still pooling in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, sniffling a little.

"Here's what we're gonna do, love", he smiles cooly, shows his teeth like a predator, eyes drilling into you, "We're gonna have a little fun. And once we're done, I'll let ya go. How does that sound? Agreed?"

You have a suspicion what fun means, both, painfully clear and enforced by the way his gaze wanders over your body and you gulp. You really don't have a choice now, do you?

So you can hear yourself say: "Y-yes."

"Yes --?", he lifts his gun a little, gestures with it, "C'mon be a good girl."

Your eyes widen. You are not stupid; you know what he most likely wants to hear - you have met men like him before your marriage - and despite it making your stomach tingle a little it also makes painfully clear what he is imagining as A little fun.

Your voice is small, fingers fumbling with the hem of your tweed blazer. "Y-yes, Daddy", shivers run down your spine as his eyes turn dark dark dark, gaze transfixed by you and then he barks out a mean laugh.

"Fuckin' hell", what?, "I wanted you to thank me, you dumb fuckin' thing, not be a complete 'n utter slut about it."

Shame burns on your cheeks and you scramble for words - anything to say, to excuse or justify yourself - as mortification swallows you whole, crawls up your spine and mingles with your fear, has your head swimming.

"What a poor lil' airhead ya are", he grins at you meanly, "But I like it, go 'head, keep callin' me that. Probably gets you all wet, dunnit?"

You shake your head wildly - "N-no" - bottom lip quivering a little and he knows you are lying.

And Tangerine starts to grow bored. He has been feeling quite bored for a good while - since he blew Markov's lights out to be exact. He wishes he had not done it so soon, would have rather tied him up and let him watch how he has his way with his wife. Tangerine sighs, puffs his cheeks and let’s go off a breath dramatically, looks you straight in the eye.

"Alright, listen. I just don't have all day, so ya better get going, before I pop ya too", he waves his revolver at you, "Get undressed. 'n do it slowly."

You nod - I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die - fingers brush over the first button of your blazer, as he interrupts you: "Ah ah ah, what d'ya say?"

Your eyelids flutter and your knees feel like giving in. "Y-yes, Daddy."

Tangerine hums deep in his throat. "Atta girl - now keep going."

With shaking hands, cold sweat pooling between your fingers, you start to slowly unbutton the first few buttons of your costume's blazer. It's a Chanel tweed set, since you had just been out with some friends for lunch, before one of them told you about what had she'd seen yesterday. Part of you wishes you had never left the restaurant, just shrugged it off and ordered another drink instead. You don't even know why you fight for this marriage - you never really spoke to him; he never touched you or even really looked at you - not that you minded that much. But it's losing your status, the money he brings in, that you'd miss and thus, you had grown a nice pair of manicured claws over time.

See where that got you.

Your blazer falls to the ground with a thud and Tangerine licks his lips. And that is when another part of you, very quietly at the back of your mind, is a little glad you came here. It's in his eyes mostly, a strange and unknown hunger, like an animal gone wild. And it ignites something in you, shoots pleasure straight down your loins and has your breath hitching.

No one, no one has ever looked at you like that, like he is close to dashing over the desk and swallowing you whole, eating you up and ripping you apart with razor-sharp teeth.

Your blouse follows next, as you pop open the first few buttons, pulling the thin fabric out of your short tweed skirt. It flows to the ground shortly after, leaves you in your bra, skirt, and heels. Tangerine does not give you as much as a few seconds to accommodate to being partially exposed to him, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Skirt's next, darlin'."

You inhale audibly through your lips and Tangerine chuckles quietly at that as you unhook the clasp on your skirt, slooowly pulling down the zipper at the side. You feel ridiculous, like a very bad caricature of a housewife stripping for her husband. It's nothing like you imagined it to be, fingers buried deep inside of you, imagining your husband to be someone else, someone prettier, someone who valued you - someone who you'd love to get dirty for. You don't feel sexy or tempting - but to him you certainly do look the part, the way your body quivers and shakes, all shy by avoiding his gaze.

The expensive tweed falls to the floor and you step out of the fabric of your clothing, pooling around your feet. You gulp, carefully looking up at him. You wonder if he likes what he sees, if it's enough for him to spare your life, to --

Tangerine's heart skips a beat, a sharp noise erupting in his ears. The lingerie you are wearing, a stunning pale-pink lace set, hugs your curves nicely and leaves nothing to the imagination - with the way your nipples poke through the bra, the string cupping your cunt, dipping a little into the cleft of your folds.

He can also see the damp patch on your lacey string and it makes his dick rock-hard, pressing against his slacks. He lifts an eyebrow, as he looks at you. "Who would've thought", and you blush, swallowing, "He married a common whore."

The humiliation burns on your cheeks, turns them red and your mouth goes dry, but there's also fresh wetness pooling between your legs at his words. Oh, you are fucked.

He reads you like an opened book, watches you shifting uncomfortably. "Say it", he whispers softly.

You swallow, licking your lips, before replying quietly: "I am a common whore - Daddy."

"That you are, darlin', aren't ya", Tangerine grins, "Get that bra off, show me what ya got."

You reach back and unclasp the soft lace, pulling the strings over your shoulders and down your arms, carelessly throwing the fabric to the side. Tangerine tilts his head a little, his eyes assessing your tits. He seems satisfied, waves his revolver at you.

"Touch yourself, I wanna see those pretty tits movin'", swallowing, your hands come up, damp with cold sweat and cup your tits, bouncing and squeezing them a little, pressing them together. You do not dare looking at him, gaze focussed on the desk instead, hands brushing over your breasts.

You just started rolling your left nipple between your index finger and thumb, gasping quietly, the slight pain and pleasure running straight between your legs as he suddenly moves. You flinch, arms immediately clutching around your exposed chest while he gets up, deliberately strolls over to you.

Maybe he is not satisfied, he surely isn't, it must've been too little, not enough he's gonna kill you, kill you, kill you --

"Such perfect fuckin' tits", he weighs his revolver in his hands, the metal of it clinking against his rings, and closes in on you. "Have ya been touched often?", the barrel of the gun hooks underneath your chin and your lift your head with it obediently, looking up at him. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your eyes big and teary again. You don't think he's one to slip on the trigger but it still has anxiety crawling up your spine - don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me --

"Answer me, ya stupid twat."

You just wish he would take that fucking gun away from your face.

"N-no", you answer truthfully. The last time you had sex was literal ages ago, in your time at Harvard. Since your parents had married you off you haven't been touched by another fucking human being, assured so by the constant observation of your husband's men. He was allowed to cheat, but God forbid you had some fun. So, you had retreated to fucking yourself, lacking any physical contact, making every single time you masturbated feel shallow and incomplete. Tangerine watches the way your face changes as you reminisce.

"Oh, ya poor thing", he coos, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and you look up at him, "Bet that felt horrible, didn't it?"

And you nod, his thumb caressing your cheek and you get a first good look at him. He is really pretty. The blood looks good on him, bright red in a glooming contrast to his blue eyes. Your head swims with it a little. "How did that make ya feel, eh?"

"Lonely", you croak, before you can stop yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks, pooling between his fingers and rings.

He hums in his throat. "Bet it did", something dances across his eyes, "D'ya want someone to take care of ya? D'ya want to stop feeling so bloody lonely all the time?"

The truth behind his words runs you over like a freight train, barely leaves you wondering with how he got that about you so fast, brain erupting in a static noise.

You do. You feel lonely, locked up in a golden cage of money and bodyguards, with no one opening its door to spend some time with the little bird inside.

"Y-yeah", you whisper, blinking away the tears.

"Wanna know something, love?", and you nod, carefully, not to spook him into shooting, "I could be that person. How's that sound, eh? I could keep ya safe -"

Tangerine's hand leaves your cheek and touches your waist instead, a feather-light touch that has goosebumps spreading all over your body.

"I could touch ya -", his hand sprawls over your lower back, "'N keep you happy, get ya lots'n lots of pretty, sparkly things."

Your breath hitches, brain slowly growing mushy because - because, despite the gun underneath your chin, that does sound heavenly. It sounds easy. Painless. Better. A little exciting even.

"C'mon, how's that sound?", he coos, hand running over your back, to your side again, thumb toying with the hem of your string.

"Sounds so good, Daddy", you sigh, images of a new life, a different life flashing by.

"Mh, I know it does. I could take you with me, make ya mine. You'd love that, wouldn't ya?", his fingers dance over your abdomen, dipping lower and between your legs. His thumb presses down on the damp patch, rubs over your clit, his bracelet rustling.

And it is like your brain has completely given up, surrendering yourself to this very handsome man. But you just can't since - "I-I am married", you croak, a little helplessly, like you don't quite know what to make out of that either.

He does, anger flickering behind his eyes like someone pulled a lighter out and ignited his gaze.

Tangerine growls, the barrel of his revolver pressing against your temple roughly, thumb rubbing smaller circles over your clit through your dampened string, "You belong to me now, d'ya understand? There's nothing he can do about it, y'hear me?"

"Y-yes Daddy, I do", you whine, eyelids fluttering and small tears running down your cheeks.

"Oh, stop fuckin' crying - I can feel how wet ya little cunt's gotten, fuckin' slut", and you blink up at him, a small gasp escaping your mouth as your gazes meet through teary eyes.

You just look so fucking hot to him. Adrenaline from his kill still pumps through his veins and it makes him so so mad, his ears ringing. He feels like he is about to fucking burst and your tears only spurr him on, making something in his stomach growl, stretching its claws out.

Tangerine is too far gone already, everything tinted red red red and he just wants to lash at you, bury his teeth in your throat and end your life like that, bury his dick deep inside of you and feel you twitch around him while blood spurts from your open wound, flows from your mouth. He wants.

But you are also so very very pretty to him, tears running down your cheeks, lips plush and quivering a little and nipples hard like glass, testing his patience with the way they poke out at him.

"Or actually, don't", his lips curl up into a cold smile, "I like to see you cry, hm? Y'real pretty like this."

And you sob heavily, his words making your head swim. Pretty pretty pretty - when was the last time someone called you pretty?

"Oh, darlin'", Tangerine whispers, gun grazing your temple, thumb rubbing small and hard circles on your clit, "Don't be hurt by Daddy, hm? I don't mean to hurt ya, now do I?"

"N-no", you shake your head a little, "Di-didn't hurt m-me."

"Mhm, you are such a good girl, aren't ya? Never hurt by your new Daddy, eh?"

You shake your head again but this time, his face grows stern. "Ah ah ah, words, love. Use your words."

"N-no, y-you could never hurt me."

"Yeah, I couldn't, how could I? I can say anything to you, call you whatever I like and you would never be hurt, would ya?"

And you do not want him to be angry, do not want him to think that he could hurt you - so that he doesn't accidentally slip and does just that - and you notice that fresh tears stream down your cheeks.

"I-I wouldn't, no", you blink away the tears and Tangerine smiles at you.

"That's right. I can call you whatever I like", his thumb speeds up and you moan sweetly, "What d'ya think? Doesn't slut fit you well?"

He says it with such adoration that you cannot help but sigh, nodding. "Y-yeah, it does", you reply quietly, ready to wear it with pride.

"Alright then, slut - take that sorry excuse of a panty off."

You follow his command, shaking fingers hooking underneath the hem of your string, pulling it down slowly.

"Faster, you dumb fuckin' slut."

"Uh-huh", you mumble, nodding, and hastily shoving your string down your legs until it falls down and pools at your feet - a pretty pink on a bright fur carpet. Now, with being fully naked, you feel incredibly vulnerable.

You still wonder if he really won't hurt you. You decide that if you stick by rules, he most likely won't.

Tangerine slowly walks around you, like a predator surrounding its prey, then comes to a halt behind you. The barrel of his revolver presses against the nape of your neck and then glides over your body - down down down - cold metal against warm skin, and then he reaches around your waist. The gun grazes your abdomen and slips between your legs, barrel running cooly through your folds. And you can't hold back the moan crawling up your throat, parting your lips, has you inhaling sharply.

"Yeah, that's more like it, innit?", he rubs the cold metal along your folds, "I can fuckin' smell how wet your cunt is."

And you can hear it, too - the way your pussy squelches obscenely around the barrel, wetness dripping down your thighs. Your knees buckle as the metal rubs along your clit, has you moaning shyly.

Tangerine wraps one arm around you, holds you upright with your back pressed flush against his chest and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you feel his hard dick pressing against your ass, hotly through his slacks.

"Lift your leg, love", he whispers, moustache brushing over the shell of your ear and you comply like you are a fucking robot, and his large hand wraps around the back of your knee, holds your leg up. You mewl as the gun wanders further, barrel brushing against your hole and then dips in with barely any effort, so so slick by your juices and your breath hitches, whole body trembling as the cold metal enters you.

"O-oh", you gasp dumbly, your body sacking back against him. The barrel isn't too big, barely larger than a finger, and rather short but it still feels - good? Tangerine starts to fuck you with it slowly, moves the gun in and out of you and your head swims with the thought, that he could just pull the trigger and blow your lights out, could leave you here bleeding to death.

Your legs start to shake, anxiety and lust mingling dangerously, and in a desperate attempt for any leverage your hand shoots up, reaches back and finds the back of his neck, clutches onto it, fists the pristine white banker's collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, that feels fuckin' good, dunnit?"

"Uh-huh", you breathe, the cold metal pumping in and out of you has lust pooling your stomach and you look down to where his tattooed arm wraps around your waist, where the black sparrow and the golden bracelet vanish along your pussy - watching the way you can see the grip and trigger moving against your folds.

You should be scared, afraid of him and afraid of the gun fucking into you - but you just aren't. Lust washes over your brain, makes everything go just a little hazy, wraps you in cotton candy - hot and syrupy, sweet.

"My god - shit", you breathe, your cunt aching to be touched and you wish for the barrel to just be a bit longer, able to fuck you properly, reach the parts only his cock could - the one that's pressing against your ass hotly, pulsing through his slacks. Instead, you roll your hips once, best you can with his iron grip on your thigh, meeting the thrusts of his gun.

It has you whining, the way the cold metal presses against your hot and slick skin, throwing your head back, resting on his shoulder. Tangerine moves in, like a hungry animal, lips and stache brushing over your exposed shoulder, tickling the naked skin while his eyes wander down your body - taking in your desperate thrusts, bouncing tits and hard nipples. You are fucking hot, maybe the hottest thing he has seen in a while, hotter than the tarts he fucks sometimes.

You seem clean - innocent and virginal and it nearly makes him bust a nut thinking about you: on all fours crawling towards him, sucking his cock until your throat bruises and you are a crying mess, tied to the bedposts taking him like a good fucking personal sex doll would. He groans against your skin, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your leg.

The sound has you vibrating. It leaves you wanting, wanting to feel more, to feel full; to hear more of him, more of where that came from. You can't hold yourself back. "D-daddy", you moan, the feeling of his hard dick pressing against you and the warmth that his firm chest radiates leaving you a little dizzy, "N-need your cock."

Tangerine chuckles against your shoulders. "Oh, now you're wantin' something, eh? What about me, love? What about our little deal?"

"'S for y-you, too", you whine helplessly.

"Oh no no no", he sounds genuinely amused, presses the gun snugly against your aching cunt and your legs tremble, "Don't ya try to get me all soft 'n shit, hm? You'll lose, love, you'll lose."

His tongue darts out, licks a fat stripe over your neck, testing your sweat mingling with your expensive perfume. It takes all his willpower not bury his teeth into your soft flesh until he draws blood and life fades from your eyes.

"N-need m-more", you gasp, hole clenching around the short barrel, cunt needy and aching and squirting against his fingers and the gun in anticipation.

"Well, then -- Why don't ya show me how you got yourself off all those years, hm? Show me how to work that sweet cunt of yours", his lips brush over the nape of your neck and your knees buckle at the soft touch, "Show Daddy how to do it."

Tangerine pulls the gun out of you and you gasp, eyelids fluttering, hole clenching around nothing at the loss, wanting the friction back and he slowly puts your leg back down. His hand brushes up your thigh and waist, rests on your shoulder, presses down a little. And you turn to puddy in his hands, knees giving in and you sink down, landing on your knees with a soft thud.

The fur feels soft around your knees and you lay your head back obediently, looking up at him through hazy eyes. You can see him swallowing, licking his lips. His revolver drips with your juices.

His hand grabs your chin, slight pressure on your throat and then he moves in, rubs his crotch over the back of your head. You can feel his hard, big dick against your skull and you can't help your mind from wandering there, wondering how might he taste.

"Feel that? That's what ya fuckin' slutty behaviour does t'Daddy", he bows down, grins at you and then, without warning, spits.

You flinch as his saliva hits your face, lands across your forehead and you cheeks. His thumb spreads it out, rubs it into your skin and you moan, humiliation pooling in your stomach and shooting down between your legs.

Tangerine chuckles, straightens back up and the hand leaves your face, your throat. "Spread ya legs, I wanna see what's gonna be mine."

You comply, sitting down on your ass and planting your feet in front of you, heels digging into the soft fur. He strolls around you, makes is way back to the desk.

"'N you fuckin' whore better put on a fuckin' good show for me, too", he growls, "It's what ya want, innit? Be a good girl f'me?"

It kind of is. The part of your brain that just doesn't want to die is oddly silent. There is something else, something that buries its claws deep deep in your mind and tears and tears and tears until everything is a little mushy and your brain complies - good girl good girl good girl.

Tangerine leans against the table, crosses his feet and places his hands on the edges, gun dangling from his slender fingers. "C'mon love, ya better don't wanna keep me waiting."

You look down at yourself and a surprised gasp leaves you mouth - you are incredibly wet, thighs sticky with your own juices. You run your fingers through your folds in awe, feeling your own slick, and you moan as you brush by your clit. You need more, body and cunt aching for it and your index finger starts to rub over your clit.

Squelching sounds erupt between your legs and you mewl at the sensation, your cunt so responsive, hole fluttering and your free hand darts out, grabs the fur beneath you.

"Such a pretty fuckin' cunt ya got", and your gaze darts up at him, stomach doing a funny little flip as your eyes meet his, breath hitching in your throat.

Tangerine licks his lips, gestures with his gun. "Rub faster, I wanna hear more of ya sweet moans, slut."

You comply immediately, rubbing your clit faster and you do moan for him, gasping with the pleasure shooting through your body, igniting your nerves. You throw your head back, not waiting for his next instruction, adding a second finger, rubbing large and quick circles around your clit, hips bucking and rolling against them, heightening the sensation.

Arching your back you moan and gasp, lust swallowing you whole and taking over your brain - eradicating anything and everything despite the need to feel more more more.

"C'mon, I know you wan'it, push one in and finger yourself", and your other hand flies to your wanton pussy; index finger briefly, impatiently circling your hole before eagerly dipping in, burying itself deep in one quick thrust. You hiss, quickly exchanged by a sweet gasp as you bottom your finger out.

You start to move it in and out of you, rubbing it along your walls and you can't help but sink onto your back, mewling as it enters you deeper, slips back in more easily. You feel so so dirty, naked in nothing but your jewellery and heels with his spit across your face, but you have never felt better either.

"O-one more, please", you beg, "Please, let me have one more."

Don't you just beg so prettily? He wonders if you will beg like that when he will shove a plug up your ass and fuck your throat, stuffing your cunt with a vibrator. He wonders if you will ask for another one to fuck your ass.

Oh, he will ruin you alright. "Since you ask so nicely", he coos, "Go ahead, slut. Whatever ya need."

Pushing a second finger in, the circles you rub on your clit become smaller and faster. You moan in rhythm with your fingers thrusting into you, curling them a little. Your legs go a little limp, knees darting away from each other, giving him an even better view of your assault on your pussy, the way your slick spreads up to your thighs. Your cunt gushes around your fingers as you force them in deeper, squirts against your hand.

Tangerine watches you coming apart smugly, weighs his revolver in his hands. Who would've thought a simple gun was enough to get you to buckle, give in and surrender yourself to him?

You are his now, he will never let you got. He will keep you and train you and make you needy and dumb for no one else but him.

The thought nearly makes his chest burst with the power trip it sends him on, and he spreads his legs a little, feels his hard cock pressing against his slacks. He can't fucking wait to get in that sweet sweet cunt of yours - show you how a real man fucks his wife, fucks what belongs to him. Tangerine can see, even from where he is standing, that you are fucking tight - the way your hole stretches around your delicate fingers has him licking his lips.

He can't fucking wait to claim you.

"Yeah, I can see he never fucked you properly", Tangerine rasps, shakes his head in silent disapproval as you mewl, arching your back, "I'd take care of you, y'know? Y'want that, don't ya?"

You nod nod nod, moaning as your fingers brush over your walls, stretching you out as you scissor yourself open - thinking about how good his huge fucking dick would feel inside of you instead - your hole fluttering around your digits.

"Bet ya do, lil' slut. Daddy's gonna take real good care of ya, ya'd never ever have to think again. Jus' lemme do the thinking."

"Shit, please, yes", you moan, rocking down on your fingers, pushing a third one in. You are so so full, juices squelching around your hole and wetting your hand and the fur underneath you but it's not enough. You start to pump the in and out of you quicker, deep thrusts hitting the spot inside of you just right.

"Yeah, I'd tell you exactly what to do", Tangerine hums, "I'd be coming home and tell my little slut to bend over the fuckin' kitchen table, stuff her tight 'n needy holes, 'n what would she say?"

"I-I'd thank y-you", you nearly cry out, your whole body feeling light and shuddering at the thought.

"Mhm, atta girl - and if I put ya pretty throat on a leash? Drag ya through the house and stuff ya full of toys? What would ya say to Daddy?"

"T-thank you, Daddy", you huff, chest heaving with your rapidly approaching orgasm, legs tensing up and toes curling.

"And what would ya say when I let ya cum, slut?"

"Thank you!", you sob, the two fingers on your clit rubbing mercilessly, your other hand fucking you hard and fast.

"That's a good girl. Lemme hear it then, cum you fuckin' whore."

Your orgasm hits you like a fucking train, your cunt pushing your fingers out as you convulse around them - a high pitched chant Thank you thank you thank you falling from your lips. Your arms fall to the side uselessly as you ride your orgasm out, wave after wave of warm squirt wetting the fur, as you moan and roll your hips, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes flutter open as you hear footsteps, see him approaching. He is still holding his revolver, the outline of where his large cock is pressing angrily against his expensive trousers.

"Too sad your husband couldn't just see that, eh?", there is genuine joy marking Tangerine's features, making his bright eyes gleam.

Oh shit - that reminds you of something.

"W-where is he?", you croak, legs still shaking with your recent orgasm, body sinking into the fur.

"Oh, love", he seems to smile at you, but his eyes don't join in on his lips tilting up, "He's right 'ere, ain't he?"

He points his revolver away from you, to the side and your eyes warily follow the movement. There is nothing there except the locked closet and --

And a dark pool of something on the ground, a trail of it slooowly creeping your way over the polished floor boards. It looks like-

You stretch your arm out, fingers darting out and the index finger dipping into the liquid. It's still warm and sticky.

And red. It does not take a genius to get what it is.

Tangerine licks his lips as he watches you, how realization creeps in, changes your facial expression. You look horrified and his dick twitches at the sight.

He closes in on you, bows down over your exposed body and grabs your hand roughly, pulls it in. "Would'ya mind cleaning that up f'me, love?", and your eyelids flutter and you do, like you are on autopilot, licking your dead husband's blood from your finger.

"Mhm", Tangerine hums and you gag a little around the metallic taste, which makes his face light up. He pulls his finger from your mouth, unbuckles his belt instead. "I think, I really might just keep ya."

"Y-you said you'd let me go", you gasp as his hand dips between your legs.

"Well, love - change of plans, innit?"

[arece]

Reader dies instead of John fucking load on the angst

Remember Me

♤ Summary: What if you died instead?

♤ a/n: THIS ISN'T CANNON!!! A what if that I personally think is even more painful than the original. I find it concerning how I find angst so much easier to write. This is a long one (2.2k) The masterlist

♤ Warnings: ANGST! John Wick violence, death.

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“Please, stop this.”

“I can’t.”

***

You begged him, followed him, did everything you could to try and stop him from doing this but it didn’t matter. Forever stubborn, a trait you no doubt got from him. Many mannerisms you had came from John. From the glower you do unconsciously to your dry humor.

But that all didn’t matter, not anymore. John had a plan, one where he might not make it out alive but the Marquis would go down with him, one where you’d be free in a way he was never able to attain. This was for you, he’d do anything for you.

“Fire!” He shoots just as Caine does. They both miss. He hears your whimper from beside Winston and it takes everything in him not to flinch back from the sound. He can feel the blood dripping down from the graze on his arm, a patch of red blooming from his white shirt. 

The Harbinger calls them back twenty paces. He takes a breath, a quick glance to see the almost agonizing worry painted on your face. For you. “Fire!” It felt much faster this time, it was. It had to be realistic, like they were planning to kill each other.

The growing pain in his left shoulder knocks him back a step but otherwise he doesn’t react. Caine grunts, slightly hunched over and holding at his side. Painful yet not fatal, they took another ten paces and it was time.

“Those who cling to death, live.” A bittersweet truth he clung to until there was you. Caine gives a barely visible nod, “Those who cling to life, die.”

“Fire!”

The shot to his stomach winds him to the point he falls to his knees. It won’t kill him, a few inches upwards and would have, he wouldn’t reveal that just yet. You cry out and Winston nearly has to hold you back. He has to close his eyes, tempted to tell you he was fine but he can’t show his hand. He wasn’t done yet, he had to win.

“¡Alto!” Vincent eagerly calls out. I claim the last shot.” He grabs a bullet before storming up to Caine with a sick sort of glee. “Your weapon, give it to me,” he demands, holding his hand out. “Is my daughter free now?” He carefully asks.

Caine’s part of the deal is fulfilled, he and his daughter were now free like you’d both soon be. “Oui. You and your daughter, enjoy.” He rips the gun from Caine and quickly reloads it. “You lose,” he confidently calls out before being cut off by Winston’s mocking laugh.

“You arrogant asshole. He didn’t shoot.” Vincent snaps over to John but it’s already too late. “Consequences,” he spitefully said before shooting him straight in the head. It was all over, he finally ended it all.

You’d be safe, he could be with you, that is if you forgave him for leaving you behind. He was aware it was his fault, that it was something he should’ve never done, but at the time he felt it was the only thing he could do to keep you safe. After two years, he finally got you back.

“John,” a soft whimper behind him. He looks up to see you holding your stomach, a few inches upwards. The Marquis’ gun went off, hitting you as collateral. You nearly fell back until Winston grabbed ahold of you.

Caine stepped back, The Harbinger leaving, it was not the time to finalize the terms. “No.” John feels nearly hysterical as he clumsily makes his way to you, dragging you from Winston into his arms. It felt like he wasn’t even there, this wasn’t real.

He pushes down on your wound, desperate for it to go away. You cry out from the pain, “I know, I know. I got you, kid.” Winston has to turn away, tearing up at the sight of just how fragile you looked.

John felt himself growing frantic, nearly losing himself already at the idea of losing you. He tries to gather you into his arms, just like that time you were sick. Just like that time, you’d be fine. He was overreacting, the Doctor would tell him it’s something minor. It won’t be like his Helen.

But you stop him, crying quietly now as you hold tightly to his hand on your stomach, “you’re free now?” You ask in an uncharacteristically small voice that has him nearly sobbing. “Yeah,” he brushes your hair back just like every time he’s done before.

It was foolish, you know, but you just wanted him to comfort you one last time, “you’re not going anywhere?” John slightly chokes, pulling you closer, as if holding you to him and refusing to let you go would keep you here. “You and me, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I missed you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you cuddled into him like you did whenever you had a nightmare. It was almost enough to convince John that’s what this was, you were just sleeping. But the lack of your chest rising and the soothing sound of your breaths had him finally breaking down.

No matter how hard he tried to do right by you he failed, every time. He did all of this to save you, left you for two years to protect you, reunited with you, only for you to die. You had begged him to stop, gave him so many opportunities to put down his gun and just live for you and he refused. His never ending need for revenge killed you, he killed you.

The background was a blur, he couldn’t hear anything, focused on solely rocking you back and forth, pushing your hair back every time it fell into your face. He ignored the blood he smeared on your face as he brought your head closer - your blood - and kissed your head softly.

You. His daughter, his kid, his baby. He missed you too, there was never a moment he didn’t, even now he missed you more than anything. Winston tried to step closed and he held out your knife threateningly. He didn't care, no one got near you right now except for him.

“Johnathan,” He calls out softly, red rimmed eyes of his own. “The first time I saw her in two years and she’s already gone.” He didn’t bother looking up, trailing a finger over your cheek that was already growing cold.

“I missed so much and it’s my own fault,” he glances up at Winston, “I’ll never get that time back.” He gathered you close and stood, he was going to bring you home and you were never going to leave again.

He nods for his jacket and Winston drapes it over you, covering your fatal wound just like he wanted. You were sleeping. It hit him suddenly that he never told you he loved you and it was almost enough to send him back to the ground.

He should’ve just done what you had asked, whatever you wanted. He held you securely with Winston by his side, both ready to bring you back. 

***

(y/n) Wick

Loving daughter

“You and me, kid.”

Something you’d probably scoff at but it felt right. Dog refused to move from your grave and John had half the mind to stay with her. Even the Bowery King had shed a few tears, having to leave soon after due to not being able to handle the emotions.

“Always said he was dramatic,” he could almost swear he heard you say. You were next to Helen, a little family he wanted to join. He didn’t know what to do without you, lost in a way he’s never been before.

Losing a child is a pain you never get over, a gaping hole that never fills. He was angry but had no one left to blame, no enemies to kill. For once, John was forced to sit and deal with his grief and god if it wasn’t the most painful thing he’s ever felt.

He carried so much guilt and regret for what happened between you, so many mistakes he’d never be able to go back and fix. Winston’s reassurance of how much you had loved him didn’t help.

You admired and loved a monster, both John Wick and the Baba Yaga. It had gotten you killed. Everything John Wick loves dies. You were doomed from the moment he accepted that coin, the moment he placed his jacket over you in that car and decided he would do anything for you.

He felt that he cried out everything he had left, numb besides the anger he held towards himself. This was his own doing. Eventually he forced himself and Dog to go to your apartment, the place you lived when John forced you out of your home.

It felt empty - lonely. It was enough to break his heart all over again, he drove you to this. He collected the few photos of yourself in the apartment, his own only of your younger years. He couldn’t stand the thought of the last image he had of you being older was dying in his arms.

 As he brushed over your belongings he came across a small box. He opened it to see a bunch of folded up papers held down by a gold coin. A gold coin he recognized, the coin that led him to you, to your death. He picked it up and was tempted to throw it away before pocketing it. He’d keep any part of you he could get, even if it reminded him of his mistakes.

He picked up one of the folded papers; a letter dated back to a few days after he left you. 

John,

I don’t think I could ever forgive you. I trusted you. 

I never believed that I could belong anywhere, everyone seemed to leave eventually.

I knew that day would come with you, I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

He swallowed, skimming through the letters, varying emotions of resentment, hurt, and confusion in each. It was painful, but one John wholeheartedly deserved. He may have been what you wanted but he wasn’t what you deserved, you deserved more.

He reached the last letter in the pile, it was written just a week before you hunted him down, a week and a few days before you died.

John,

I think I get it now. Though it doesn’t make it hurt less, I at least know now that you did care. You wanted me to be safe but what you seemed to never understand is that I felt safest with you.

All I wanted was you. I’ll always carry that hurt for the potential what could’ve been but I can cherish the time we did have together, when I had someone who cared for me so deeply.

I hunted down the Continental Doctor to trade for that coin you gave him - something to remember you by - and he gave it to me for free. I think he understood.

Everyone seemed to do that better than us. We always struggled to actually talk to each other, resorting to desperate actions. Maybe that’s what led us here today.

I hope you find that peace and freedom you always longed for, the kind you couldn’t get with me. That’s part of the reason I think we would’ve never worked, all I brought was chaos and pain, something you never needed more of, what you were trying to escape. For that I’m sorry.

Now, I’ll try to fix our mistakes, learn from them and speak openly. I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to send these to you but if you do find them I hope you know that I love you. 

I love you and thank you for being the dad I never got. Even if it was for a short time.

Love,

Your daughter.

John fell down onto your chair, crying so hard he couldn’t make out the words on the letter. He held it away from him, scared he’d stain it with his tears.

You got to heal but for the wrong reasons, without his apology and the full knowledge of his love for you. You were right, you both struggled with words and he should’ve tried harder. You always struggled feeling like you belonged and he didn’t do enough to reassure you.

He wished he could’ve told you just how much he cared for you, how much he loves you. How he’s sorry.

***

Although no matter what happened next it would never be fully happy; but if John were able to heal the slightest bit, accept, and move on, it would’ve been better. Though that’s never how John worked. He solely relied on his anger, looking for someone to blame, looking for a fight. Something he knew how to do.

He chose to direct his anger towards the entire High Table, to wipe them all out. Winston tried to fight him on this, convince him that it wouldn’t be what you wanted. But you weren’t here and you were gone because of the High Table and him. Either way they’d both go down for taking you away.

A suicide mission. But what else was there left to live for? He lost all that brought meaning to his life, he killed it, watched as it slipped through his fingers, helpless to stop it all. Helen, and now you.

He didn’t believe in much anymore but he hoped, hoped that when he did finally get to rest, it’d be with you.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

[burntsaltsblog]

tw: death and blood

Chapter Eight

"Stay here," Butcher instructed sternly as he hastily pulled on his clothes and checked that his gun was fully loaded.

"No," I argued, rising from the bed to slip on my jeans that had been previously abandoned on the floor.

Butcher whipped around to face me, his brown eyes blazing. "Jo, I swear to god, if ya try to follow me, I will handcuff you to the bedpost."

"I'd like to see you try," I challenged, crossing my arms.

Butcher pinched the bridge of his nose before crossing the room in a few long strides and placing his hands on my shoulders.

"What did I tell ya earlier?" He shook me gently.

My brows creased in confusion. "Billy, what are you talking about?"

"Blimey, petal, what did I tell ya earlier? What did we talk about?"

"Uh, I don't know." I shook my head as I wracked my brain for Butcher's words from earlier that night. "Our future? The fucking house in the country? How you want me to have your babies-"

"Exactly," Butcher cut in, his voice earnest as he gazed at me intently. "Why, on God's greenest and bloodiest earth, would I send the future mother of my children into a possibly perilous situation?"

I opened and closed my mouth several times as I tried to summon different angles from which to dispute his point of view.

"No, love. You ain’t fightin’ this. Now, are ya gonna be a good girl and lock yourself in the bathroom, or am I gonna need to get out the cuffs and do this the hard way?"

I knew Butcher's threat was legitimate. Not too long ago, he’d nicked a pair of handcuffs off a cop and kept them should he need them in a hostage situation.

"Fine," I grumbled, having to restrain myself from giving him both middle fingers as I pivoted toward the bathroom.

"You'll be gettin’ a reward later, princess," Butcher declared as he followed me on my heels.

"Yeah, whatever." I glared as we stood on opposite sides of the bathroom threshold.

Butcher couldn't hide his amusement from my displeasure. "Dontcha pout, doll, or your mouth will stay like that," he teased, tracing my frown with his finger, but that only made it deepen as my eyes narrowed at him.

"Fuck off and find out what the noise was so I don't have to play stow away all day long," I snapped, shutting and locking the door in his face.

I could hear his continuous snickering on the other side of the wood as he exited the room, no doubt shutting the door behind him.

I paced the length of the small washroom, swearing at Butcher as I spoke to myself to pass the time. Who knew agreeing to be that British asshole's girlfriend meant that I'd be running from danger instead of embracing it head-on as I'd always done since joining The Boys.

There wasn't a clock in the bathroom, so I had no way of calculating how long Butcher had been gone. But after what felt like an eternity, I heard someone burst through the bedroom door as Butcher’s voice rang out, and his fist pounded on the bathroom door.

"Open up, doll. We gotta go!"

"What are you talking about? What's going on?" I panicked as I unlocked the door and swiftly swung it open.

"No time for a fuckin’ Q&A, sweetheart," Butcher said gruffly, taking me by the arm and hauling me back into the bedroom. "Pack your shite."

I watched in perplexity as Butcher yanked open his drawer of the white wood dresser and haphazardly bunched his clothes in his fists, hurling them into his duffel bag.

After tossing in his extra guns and a few hand grenades on top of his clothes, he zipped the bag shut before turning to look at me, surprised and clearly distressed due to the fact that I was just standing there, observing him and not packing like he had instructed me to do.

“Oi, what the hell are ya waitin’ for? The second comin’ of Christ? We’ve gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m not moving a single muscle until you tell me why,” I asserted ardently.

Butcher breathed out a laborious breath before retrieving my bag from under the bed, opening up another drawer of the dresser—the one filled with all of my belongings, and dumping the entirety of its contents into my bag.

“We’ve been burned,” he informed me before striding into the bathroom, returning momentarily with our hygiene products, most of them being mine.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I grabbed my moisturizer, toothpaste, and mouthwash from Butcher, taking over the packing process. “How could we have been burned again? We haven’t gone outside in weeks. I’ve barely even looked out the window.”

“How should I know?” Snapped Butcher, slamming both dresser drawers shut.

“Ok, Butcher, walk me through what happened down there. How do you know we’ve actually been burned again?”

Butcher marched the length of our room, making sure nothing was left behind before he faced me, looking somber.

“Ed’s dead.”

All the blood drained from my face as I looked at Butcher in shock.” What are you talking about?”

“I found him in his chair behind the front desk. His back was facin’ the door, so he didn’t know they was aimed at him.”

“That what was aimed at him?” I asked shakily, not entirely sure that I wanted to know the answer.

“The lasers.”

My stomach dropped, and I fought the bile that rose in my throat. “Do you think it was Homelander?”

“If It wasn't the blonde cunt, then it was somebody else with the same vile mutation.”

My breaths shortened as Butcher continued. “But I guess that our favorite bloody bimbo has found us, and that’s exactly why we have to get the fuck outta here.”

I nodded, wiping away a stray tear that cascaded down my face. I swung my bag over my shoulder, and Butcher quickly did the same. We walked towards the bedroom door before I stopped short, dread filling me. “Wait. How do we know the psycho isn’t still here?”

“I searched every room after I found Ed.”

I bit my lip as my nerves simmered just under my skin.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not here. We might find him levitating over the roof when we get outside,” I muttered as I threw open the door, but not before pulling out my pocket knife, freshly polished and sharpened for a fight.

“Well, that’s why we have these, aye?” Butcher referred to my knife and the gun that he held steadily in his hand.

“It’s not like they’ll do much damage.”

We shared an uneasy silence, but I was convinced it wasn’t because Butcher was purposefully ignoring me but more like he was purely focused on sweeping the hallway and eliminating the idea of a potential threat.

“Get behind me,” Butcher demanded.

“You’re the one who implied Homelander wasn’t even here anymore, so I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“I don’t give a flyin’ fuck whether or not the stupid twat is here—you should still let me go first,” Butcher insisted as I beat him to the staircase, descending the single flight ahead of him.

I heard his displeased rumblings was about to make a snide comment to shut him up, but every snarky word I had died on my tongue when I caught sight of Ed behind his desk.

As Butcher had said, he was sitting down, facing away from the door, and the hole in his throat, courtesy of Homelander’s lasers, was evident.

“Come on, love. We got to go,” Butcher urged me impatiently, placing an arm around my shoulders as he tried to guide me out the door.

“We need to bury him,” I said, trying to walk over to Ed’s lifeless motionless body. But Butcher’s grip tightened, holding me back.

“No, sweetheart, we don’t got time. Homelander could be blowin’ this place to bits any moment.”

I finally struggled out of Butcher’s clutch and ran behind the front desk, walking around Ed’s chair until I was in front of him.

I shoved my knife in my back pocket and clenched my fists. My nails dug into the palms of my hands, and I welcomed the blood that trickled down my wrists. It was a much-needed distraction from the lifeless look in Ed’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

My voice was hoarse, but I forced the words out anyway.

“You were so kind to us. And this is how we repaid you.”

We weren’t the ones to sear a hole in his neck, but we had drawn Homelander here. So, as inadvertent as it was, we were still responsible, and the guilt was all-consuming, rocking me to my core.

I knelt on my knees, and I reached to grasp one of Ed’s hands. It was still warm.

“It’s all our fault, and I’m so sorry we weren’t here to protect you. Because that’s what you deserved. You deserved to have us take care of you after you spent so much of your time taking care of us.”

My shoulders shook, and I could no longer hold in the sobs that clawed their way out of my mouth. Boots thumped on the floor behind me before I felt Butcher's warm embrace as he lifted me to stand, murmuring in my ear.

“Hey, I’ve got ya. It’s ok, I’ve got ya.”

My legs felt unusually weak, and I was grateful Butcher was there. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve collapsed on the floor by now as grief and self-reproach infiltrated my body.

“I’m sorry, petal. I know you’re upset, but the longer we stay here, the longer we put our own lives at risk.”

With shaking hands, I wiped my tears and mumbled “Ok” so Butcher would know I’d heard him. But I had one more thing I had to do before we left. If we couldn’t bury him, I needed to make sure someone else would.

I stumbled to the desk behind Ed’ slumped form and reached for the small landline he’d kept there. I dialed 911, and put the phone to my ear, listening to the steady ring.

“What the bloody hell are ya doin’?” Butcher growled as he tried to wrench the phone from me.

I swatted his hand away and cleared my throat as someone answered.

“911. What is your emergency?”

I lowered my voice and prayed the person on the other end of the call was competent enough to catch everything I said as I quickly spoke.

“I need to report a death. 306, Webster Rd. Haverhill, New Hampshire.”

I pressed the End button, cutting off the connection, and avoided looking at both Ed and Butcher as I readjusted the bag on my shoulder and headed for the door.

“Let’s go.”

The late November air stung my face, and I felt Butcher’s all-encompassing presence right behind me, no doubt mentally cursing me for not allowing him the chance to venture outside first.

I retrieved my knife and held it firmly as my eyes raced over the side street on which the small bed and breakfast sat. The ground was coated in a thick layer of snow thanks to the blizzard from earlier in the evening, and there was a sense of peace that floated around this part of Haverfield. If only the other residents knew of the horror that had ensued inside this picturesque bed-and-breakfast.

After determining that no supes were lurking in the shadows, I inched down the narrow sidewalk, and that’s when my eyes landed on Butcher’s old Cadillac. To the naked eye, the vehicle looked untouched, but that wasn’t enough to convince me.

“Stay here,” Butcher barked, already passing me on his way to the car, not giving me a chance to rebuke his command.

I scowled, but it didn’t hinder my ability to be alert as I watched every single one of Butcher’s movements as he trudged through the dense snow.

With his gun at the ready, the safety lock having been already flicked off, Butcher peered through each window, circling the vehicle as if it was a ticking time bomb. But knowing Homelander, it very well could be.

Butcher pulled his keys from the pocket of his trench coat and unlocked his Cadillac before easing the door open. He ducked his head inside and then settled the rest of his body in the driver’s seat.

I was about to call out with the intention of warning him not to start the car, but I was too late, and the engine roared to life. The headlights blinded me, and I threw an arm over my face to protect my eyes.

“Come on then, love. We don’t got all night.”

Unsure, I tip-toed through the snow and reached the passenger side, hesitantly opening the door.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” I asked, untrusting of the vehicle that could’ve easily been tampered with.

“Yes, doll. M’sure.”

“But what if it explodes while we’re both inside? For all we know, Homelander could be behind a tree somewhere, waiting to press the button.”

Butcher opened his mouth to respond, but both of our attentions were pulled towards a siren that wailed in the distance.

“Marvelous, that’s the authorities.” Butcher groaned before rolling his eyes. “Look, love, unless you wanna be caught at the scene of a crime, then ya better climb in.”

I eyed Butcher as l gnawed on my lower lip, feeling the dry skin rip away.

“I promise you, it’s safe. I’d never put ya in harm’s way.”

I still wasn’t convinced, and my neck craned over the roof of the Cadillac as I caught sight of the unmistakable red of a police cruiser’s cherry.

“Fuck me,” Butcher swore, having enough of my reluctance, and tugged me into the car without a thought of my feelings.

“Butcher-“

“Shut your trap. I just saved us both from bein’ taken into custody for a murder that we didn’t commit.”

With some difficulty due to the road that had yet to be shoveled, Butcher put the car in reverse and backed out before turning the wheel and zooming forward down the street.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they’re gonna pass us,” Butcher noted as the police car sped down the opposite side of the street.

I leaned forward, but Butcher placed a hand on my head, gruffly pushing me down.

“Oi, scoot your bum down, or else they’ll see ya.”

I whined in protest but didn’t fight him and stayed tucked down in the seat. The scarlet lights flashed aggressively, filling the otherwise dark Cadillac. The bright hue danced over Butcher’s face, but he stayed stoically staring forward, apart from when he glanced in the review mirror to watch the car as it was now behind us.

“They’re pullin’ into the Inn.”

“Good. They’ll take care of Ed.”

“That’s what you think. In reality, they’ll open an investigation for a murder they’ll never be able to solve.”

I furrowed my brows as I sat up straighter. “Well, what was I supposed to do, huh? Just leave him there to rot? He deserves better, and you know that. Besides, he mentioned having a great-niece who lives in Idaho, so this way, he’ll be laid to rest by family.”

Butcher sighed, shaking his head as he slammed his foot down on the gas, throwing me against the dashboard as we sped through a yellow light and entered one of the main roads in town.

“For fuck’s sake, put on your seatbelt,” Butcher scolded me, reaching across my body to draw the protective material across my chest.

“I can do it myself,” I complained, yanking the seatbelt from him and latching it at the bottom of my seat. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Wherever the highway takes us, doll.”

“How terribly specific of you.”

Butcher snorted, not bothering to use his turn signal as he turned onto the first highway entrance ramp he found. “We’re going to Canada, alright? The best thing to do right now is hide out with MM and Hughie.”

“Do you plan on whipping up some fake passports so we can get across the heavily secured border?” I asked skeptically.

“Actually, I already have ‘em right here.” Butcher patted the breast pocket of his earthy green Hawaiian shirt.

My face must have been full of surprise because Butcher chuckled, placing a hand on my thigh, squeezing gently. “You should start trustin’ Daddy more, love. He’ll always take care of his girl.”

I was about to spread my legs, inviting Butcher to move his hand up to a more desirable location, but then his phone rang, and he pulled his hand away to shove it into his pocket, quickly retrieving the device.

“Speak of the devil,” Butcher said before answering the phone. “MM, how lovely to hear from ya. As a matter of fact, we was gonna come visit-“

Butcher was cut off, and I didn’t miss his slight intake of air as he listened to MM chatter on the other end of the line.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Butcher swerved the vehicle, taking us over the small chunk of grass onto the other side of the freeway while the tires squeaked in protest.

“Butcher, I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,” I warned as we rocked back and forth, going over the soft terrain. One hand was braced against the window, and the other squeezed Butcher’s bicep, both in fear and anguish.

“Hold on to your tits, love,” Butcher announced as the car plopped down onto placement, and he ignored every speeding sign known to mankind, going close to 90 miles per hour.

“Yeah, ok,” Butcher said as he resumed his intense conversation with MM. “Yep, I agree. We’re headed there now. Oh, us? We’re fine. Cool as cucumbers we are.”

“Butcher, what’s going on?” I asked, worried. But he disregarded my question.

“Do whatever you have to do to get across the bloody border, aye? Nuke every single guard there is. All that matters is getting you and Hughie back to the city so we can finish this once and for all.”

With that, Butcher hung up and tossed his phone into the backseat.

“Billy, what the fuck is going on?” I asked again, with more urgency.

“Turns out, they’ve all been burned as well. Even Frenchie and Kimiko.”

Butcher’s voice rose as he cursed several times, hitting the steering wheel and making the car swerve into another lane.

I yelped as I grabbed the wheel myself to steady the car, my heart racing at Butcher’s outburst.

“Christ, I’m sorry, darlin’. M’sorry. Didn’t mean to lose me temper like that,” Butcher apologized, drastically slowing down until the Cadillac was going a reasonable 65 miles per hour.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, peeling my hand off of the wheel as Butcher regained control of himself and the car.

Butcher’s eyes bounced between my face and the road ahead as he continued his apology, dwelling on his loss of temper. “I really didn’t mean to do it, doll.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” I waved my hand dismissively.

I didn’t speak again until the feeling of Butcher staring at the side of my head became too much.

“Honestly, Butcher, it’s fine. I promise. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never gotten angry before.”

“But that’s just it,” Butcher replied, despair lacing his voice. “I don’t wanna get angry no more. I don’t wanna be known as some manky wanker who loses his shite at the drop of a hat or drowns his sorrows in whiskey.”

Butcher slowed the car even more so he could look at me.

“I wanna be someone who is deservin’ of you. When we go out together, I don’t want ya to be ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Butcher, where is all of this coming from?” I inquired, concerned as I shuffled in my seat to better look at him. “Why on earth would you ever think I’d be ashamed for people to see us together?”

When Butcher didn’t respond and instead plastered his eyes on the yellow and white lines ahead, I resumed talking in an effort to convince him of his delusions.

“Butcher, I love you, ok? I would be proud to be seen with you. In fact, all I want is to go out with you and watch every girl as they glare at me with jealousy because they know you’re mine.”

Butcher kept up his silence, but I didn’t blame him. He wasn’t very good with expressing his emotions, and after everything he’d shared with me lately, including in this conversation, I knew he had reached his limit on disclosing his feelings.

But in his own way of accepting my declaration, he placed his hand back on my leg, and I placed my hand over his, running across the prominent veins that I loved so much.

I turned on the radio, and the speakers roared to life— producing a song that felt a little too relatable at the moment: Living on a Prayer by Jon Bon Jovi.

The irony was too intense, and I was thankful when the melody changed, transitioning into Piano Man by Billy Joel. A smile crossed my face as the familiar sound of the harmonica filled the air, reminding me of my closest friend, Hughie.

It felt like an eternity since I last saw him, and I was anxious to end the streak. I desperately needed someone to talk to about everything, and Hughie was always so willing to listen and offer advice that he hoped was helpful.

“So, where exactly in the city are we meeting?” I ventured, hoping to get a little bit of information about our destination.

“Don’t know yet, but MM said that since Frenchie is the closest, he’ll be the one to scope some places out.”

I made a simple noise of acknowledgment before focusing on Billy Joel’s voice as I leaned my head against the headrest, staring at the dark pavement that was illuminated by Butcher’s headlights.

According to my phone, it was almost three in the morning, and I couldn’t ignore the intense Deja vu I felt. It was only a few weeks ago that Butcher and I had jumped in the car and headed to an unknown location in the middle of the night.

“Everythin’ will be ok,” Butcher pledged quietly.

“I know.”

I let my eyes shut, falling into a light sleep as the wind blew outside the window, and I hoped that whatever safe house Frenchie found this time wasn’t below a pawn shop.

₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊

tag list: @weallhaveadestiny @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @mandossillyriduur @bluemerakis @karlurbanism @vavafaure1994

comment to be added to the rag list!🖤

abandoned masterlist

[alexandraisyes]

FACTS

Monty and Earth are not the best, like I feel if I knew Earth I would be like “I beg you dump Monty”

Like, “they make each other happy”

PLEASE, ITS NOT ABOUT SHIPPING ITS ABOUT HAVING A HEATHY RELATIONSHIP

I know that Earth is a fictional animatronic woman and I AM begging her to dump that gator ass and find someone who isn’t a toxic, manipulative, lying asshole. It feels like negligence on Earth’s part because “He hasn’t done that to me”.

As Monty is pointing loaded guns at his friends and his friends KIDS but don’t worry guys it’s just a joke haha. As Monty is violating Nexus’s privacy and autonomy after being denied consent to access his software to talk to Old Moon. As Monty is belittling Sun and trying to form Nexus in Old Moon’s image and refusing to move on and pretending to be Nexus’s friend but if he actually gave a shit he would have told Earth that he walked in on her brother having a violent hallucination.

But Monty hasn’t done any of that to Earth so it doesn’t matter to her because surely it’s not as big a deal as everybody makes it out to he, right? Monty’s laughing and saying it was all a joke or for a greater good and to trust the process and do I blame earth? Absolutely not.

She’s had stability her whole life, had someone to tell her not to worry about things, to just focus on being perfect. And then she lost that. And now she has it again in Monty. There’s a very popular saying that’s been proven true, and it’s that women will subconsciously look for and settle for men that remind them of their fathers. And her father was a slimy, lying, manipulative bastard. And so is Monty.

So I don’t blame her. But I’m standing here waiting for everything to crumple around her when Monty shows her his true colors and not just the performance he puts on to woo her. I’m pacing anxiously like a friend who knows their bestie is going to get her heart broken, and all I can do is be there to catch her when she falls.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello!! Recently found your page and when i tell you i binge read almost all of your lookism content i mean it.

That being said i would love to ask if you could do a scenario where y/n and Goo hate each other but fake date in order to make Gun jealous and of course annoyed (in Goo’s case), however in the end they both fall for each other.

Aww!! THANK YOU FOR READING!! Isn't this community great. Isn't Lookism great.

I LOVE fake date fics! Slight deviation to just trying to prove Gun wrong (the plot is thin, okay).

Goo Kim x Reader: Fake Dating

"Get your hands off me!"

"It's called acting, you bitch!"

"Dumb bastard!"

"Stupid hag!"

"Four eyed fuck!"

"Shit for brains!"

A door slams shut. You and Goo freeze for a brief moment before throwing yourselves at each other. Your lips smash painfully together, and hands wander. It's for authenticity, you see.

(And it works.)

Gun stops in his tracks, "What the fuck?"

.

.

You had been chit-chatting as you usually do during one of the lulls in your missions with Gun.

"-and winter weddings are sorta magical, y'know? I like the idea of getting married and having snow falling all around me. But summer with the weather, I-"

Gun has had enough of your mundane chatter. "How the hell do you find the stupidest shit to talk about. You can't even get anyone to date you."

You throw a punch at him, "We dated!"

He dodges your attack, "And we broke up."

"Fuck you, loads of people want to date me!"

Gun peers over his sunglasses at you, he knows you are bullshitting.

Ugh. You'll show this asshole.

.

.

"Hey, you big lump," you kick Goo's chair. Oops maybe a bit too hard. You cackle as he tumbles into a heap on the floor.

"AHH! What was that for, you dumb bitch!" Goo gives you the filthiest look.

(On paper you and him should get on like a house on fire. But the first time you met, he had opened his mouth and asked who brought along this pretty little bimbo. You tried to rip out his tongue for that. Well, the rest is history.)

"So..." You eye up the blonde dusting himself off and readjusting his glasses. Is this one of your worst ideas? Probably. "Wanna piss off Gun with me?"

"I don't need you to do that."

"But what if we can take it to new realms of irritation?"

"..."

"I'll pay you."

"Why didn't you say so, Princess! I'm all ears."

Goo had always thought you were a little weird. As if this doesn't prove his point exactly.

Whatever.

He's making money and irritating Gun. Two of his favourite things. Add in beating someone up in there, and it's his holy trinity.

Hmm, maybe he could beat you up after this. That would be fun. He gives you a sly glance as you're explaining the 'fake dating' and what it entails.

Seriously, what an oddball.

.

.

After Gun discovers you two all over each other, he turns around and swiftly exits.

He did not care for getting involved in your love life. That ship had long sailed.

The only concerns are with his own sanity.

Having you and Goo together is a dangerously irritating, annoying combination. It doesn't just increase his chance of getting a headache and into trouble two-fold, it increases it exponentially.

...And the fake dating begins.

.

.

"Sweetheart, this song reminds me of you!" Goo gives a mocking smile that only you could see.

Gun is sitting in the back while Goo drives and you occupy the passenger's seat. That's fine as far as Gun is concerned. The further he is away from the both of you while you have this little... thing going on the better.

He honestly could not care less. But even listening to you two flirting is like nails on a chalkboard. The headache is returning. He should really invest in some headphones.

"Aww~ You are so sweet!"

You run your hands along Goo's thigh then brutally dig your nails in as you pinch him. This fuck. Did he think you couldn't hear the lyrics? The woman in this song is a useless doormat.

Goo blows you a kiss in return.

.

.

"Cupcake!" Goo matches pace with you and goes to hold your hand. You hear Gun's unhappy grumblings from behind. "There's a new hot restaurant that opened up. We should go on a date!"

"I would love that," That really would be thoughtful if you guys were an actual couple.

"We can have a nice night out and walk along the Han river."

"Perfect."

Goo's grip on your hand tightens, he looks deviously at you. Oh no. You prepare yourself for whatever comes out of his mouth next.

"And afterwards we can go back to mine for dessert? You know what I mean? By dessert? That's how everyone phrases it right? To mean we will just fuck all night? With my big, huge, throbbing-"

You hear a stumble and cursing from Gun. You look at Goo and feel him mentally high five-ing you.

Heh. That'll teach Gun for being such a dick. This isn't such a terrible idea after all.

.

.

"Sweetheart! Don't I look handsome!"

Gun questioned his life choices.

You and Goo had insisted on running into a designer store for something quick. 'Something quick' had turned into an hour of Goo parading around in suits. And now Gun is waiting sullenly in the corner for you both to finish up whatever the fuck you are doing.

"Hurry the fuck up,"

"Gun, you sourpuss! It's for the HNH function tonight. Goo needs to look his best."

Goo definitely did look good, you'll give him that. The blonde has a great body and a keen eye for fashion.

"Honeybun?" you turn your attention towards your 'boyfriend' as he strides out the fitting room. The suit looks like it was tailored especially for him.

Oh. Has he always been this handsome? You start to think maybe he isn't so bad until-

"You said you'll treat me for showing you a good time last night?"

You must be a better actor than you thought. Your mouth doesn't drop open at his boldfaced lie and your face remains neutral.

This prick. No doubt he's going to rack up an absurd bill and make you pay.

"Let's have a closer look then," you walk over to him, playing the part of a sweet girlfriend. Your hand smooths out the lapel and shirt.

"Silly, your tie is all askew," you adjust the knot and tighten it until it almost chokes this idiot.

Goo doesn't say a word, just looks down at you with a smirk. You feel the urge to wipe it off.

"I do like this one," you say. Your hand reaches out to caress his face. He stills at your unusually tender touch, his next backhanded comment gets stuck in his throat.

You push yourself up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

As if on autopilot, Goo's arms moves to circles your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. Something about the way you fit with him feels natural.

You nip at his lower lip. Hmm, Goo really is a good kisser.

Gun closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. You two are getting on his fucking nerves. He really shouldn't kick your asses here. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten.

Scratch that, maybe one hundred.

.

.

Goo, with his arm around your shoulder, eyes your Uno cards.

He had already won a couple rounds ago, and now you and Gun are determining who between you is the loser.

"No cutie-pie, don't put the green one down. Gun will +2 you!"

"Don't help her out!" Gun growls at you both sitting across from him. He gets awfully testy even with silly games.

You hum and haw at whether to trust Goo as he studies your hand, trying to come up with a strategy.

"Put this one down," he ignores Gun and points at a particular card, "cross my heart babe!"

Fine. You follow his instructions.

Gun huffs and picks up a card from the pile. Guess he couldn't follow your colour or number.

Goo taps twice on his cheek. You giggle and reward him with a loud smooch.

.

.

"Like this,"

Goo comes up behind you, pressing himself fully into your back and helping you adjust the grip on the golf club.

You subtly elbow him.

"Watch it," you whisper.

"You're paying for my boyfriend services," he responds under his breath, a grin never leaving his face.

Your voice returns to its normal volume, "I thought I was doing it right?"

"Nooo Princess, your swing is all off!"

He rests his head on your shoulder, actually telling you about where your hands should be and correcting your stance.

If you were a weaker woman, you would be feeling butterflies, and your face would flush. You would think about how sweet Goo could be, and how fun he is in a relationship...

You see Gun from the corner of eye and quickly derail any straying thoughts. Instead, you turn and lightly graze your lips on Goo's cheek and shuffle your hips into his crotch playfully.

Goo, delighted at your movement, chuckles.

Off to the side, Gun facepalms.

.

.

You open your mouth obediently as Goo spoonfeeds you.

"Isn't it extra delicious when your Goo-bear is feeding you?" He flutters his eyelashes. God, this guy is so ridiculous you couldn't help but laugh.

"Do you have to fucking do that? I'm trying to eat here." Gun glares at the display.

"Don't be jealous just because you'll never know love like this!" Goo snaps before feeding you another mouthful.

Gun rolls his eyes. Why does Charles curse him with the most idiotic partners.

"Yeah I'll just pay for mine and the wifey's food," Goo smiles at the waitress, handing over some cash.

"Just pay for it all you cheap asshole!" Gun is exasperated. It's a goddamn hole-in-the-wall, not some fine dining establishment. The total is pocket change.

"Nope!"

"You fucking-"

The waitress clears her throat awkwardly.

"Pay for it yourself, you prick," Goo retorts as he nuzzles into your neck.

Gun angrily slams down some money.

.

.

"What's this?"

So much for doing work. Goo loudly makes an entrance into your office and wafts a piece of paper in front of your face. You snatch it irritably.

"My invoice!"

What? This wasn't the duration that was agreed.

You narrow your eyes at him, "But we're not done yet!"

"No, we're not."

"So?"

"So I thought I'll give you a 100% discount for the foreseeable, sweetheart."

Your eyebrows knit together. Does this mean what you think it means?

Goo is a picture of nonchalance, he perches on your desk as he examines his nails.

"You mean you actually want to...?"

"I'm having a good time. You look like you are too."

Hmm, you couldn't deny it. And you never thought kissing him could be so pleasant.

"So we're really...?"

Goo gives you a smile and a casual shrug. "If you want to, Princess."

How does nothing ruffle his feathers. How can he be so relaxed about this?

You mull it over. What's the worst that could happen? The last few weeks have been undeniably fun. You don't think you had ever laughed so much.

You school your expression and give him a nod.

Goo's easy smile turns into a toothy grin. He pulls you close and kisses you, like all the times he had before. But this one feels sweeter. Real.

Goo fucking Kim is actually your boyfriend. Who would have thought?

When you finally pull away, you both stay within touching distance, beaming at each other like morons.

"Bastard."

"Bimbo."

Goo suddenly frowns, and the magic breaks. "This doesn't change anything. You still need to pay the bill!"

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog: Wakfu Season 2 (episodes 6-9 nice)

Episode 6 - Qilby

I think I hauve covid.... King Sheran-Sharm trusts Joris that much.

I don't even know what Joris's position in this conflict would be. Probably "I mean, it does belong to Yugo and his brother. They are these things' chosen protectors... But also they are so young..." and then he starts shaking because he has no idea what the right thing is.

Episode 7 - Ambush

[cries in "they fumbled adamai's joker arc"]

I already put this in the Joris dragon influence analysis post, but I love this line so, so much.

Almost forgot to mention, but cable cars are also present in other areas of the world, besides Bonta.

Also,,, machine guns. (even if loaded with rocks)

I feel like pointing this all out because a lot of time people, including me, forget that Wakfu isn't a high-fantasy setting with only medieval things. There is also a curious mix of modern technologies.

Episode 8 - The Justice Knight

This post is turning out to be very "what tech is present in Krosmoz" heavy: steam trains are real.

Also, I feel like this is a good time to reiterate, this blog started partially as my public "lore notes to write better fanfiction" type journal, and is still serving that role. I need to know if trains are real or not. What if I need to put one in a fic. 😭

Congrats to folks out there for whom this moment is Big.

His illogical actions just for the sake of being an asshole to the detriment of himself and everyone around is just... bleh. No charisma to this man.

I really like this interior. Very cozy...

Episode 9 - The Justice Knight

Even if Qilby is hiding being a bit mentally unstable, he is an older brother to all of the council, and he knows how to take care of them.

Though, my headcanon is that Shinonome was the one who was really good with the little dragons of the council, while Qilby is the one who is good with the eliatrope half of the council, whenever they are reborn.

I'M INSANE.

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: Civil War

Summary: When on a mission in Lagos things don't go as you expected, Secretary Ross offers the team a solution.

Pairing: Platonic!Avengers x F!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence. Language. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: It's only half of January and I've already been sick, great! Anyway, basically all the other parts of this story were queued and ready to go, so I got some time to rest but now I'm here writing with a fever! So, if anything doesn't make sense or I missed some mistakes, that's why. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

After months of tracking down Rumlow, you finally have a chance to get him once and for all.

You’re in Lagos, sitting at a cafe.

“All right, what do you see?” Steve’s voice comes in your ear. You know he’s talking to Wanda, she’s still learning how to be an Avenger.

“Standard beat cops,” she looks around her. “Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target.”

“There’s an ATM in the south corner, which means…” he trails off letting Wanda finish his sentence.

“Cameras.” she promptly says.

“Both cross streets are one way.” Steve keeps going.

“So compromised escape routes.” Wanda reasons.

“Means our guy doesn't care about being seen, he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve says, “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one?” she asks “It’s cute.”

“It's also bulletproof,” you discreetly point out  ”which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.”

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?” she says and you smirk.

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha answers from a few tables away.

“Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?” you hear Sam ask and try hard to contain your laughter.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” Natasha says and you can see her smirking.

“Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months. I don't want to lose him.” Steve says in our comms.

“If he sees us coming that won't be a problem.” Sam says. 

“Yeah, he kind of hates us.” you add.

There’s a minute of silence as you all keep an eye on your surroundings, then you hear Steve’s voice again. “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

You turn around just in time to see Redwing flying under it to scan the truck.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam orders the drone. “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

“It’s a battering ram.” Natasha says and your eyes widen a little.

“Go now!” Steve says and before the words are even out of his mouth you’re moving.

“What?” Wanda asks confused.

“He’s not hitting the police.” you say and then you’re all running in the truck’s direction.

Steve and his supersoldier ass get there first, then Sam and Wanda who can fly, while you and Nat are stuck driving your motorcycles as fast as you can, but can still hear the conversation through the comms.

“Body armor, AR-15's.” Steve says “I make seven hostiles.”

You hear some gun fire and then Sam “I make five.”

“Sam.”- Wanda says and, after a few seconds, Sam again “Four.”

“Rumlow’s on the third floor.” Sam says, then Steve says in his Captain voice “Wanda, just like we practiced.”

“What about the gas?”-you hear her ask.

“Get it out.” he orders. You can see the green and red whirlpool from the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.” Steve after a few minutes, just as you and Natasha get there.

“We’re on it.” she says and basically jumps off her motorcycle and it skids into an agent.

You make a sharp turn and come to a sudden stop in front of an agent on your right side, so you push your left leg off the bike and, twisting your body, you kick the guy hard on the stomach while also dismounting the motorcycle.

When you turn around Nat cocks her eyebrow at you and you shrug. “What? I’m not throwing my bike at these assholes.” she rolls her eyes at you as you two keep taking out soldiers.

You can see Nat getting dragged by Rumlow, but you’re too busy fighting off some agents to help her. You vaguely hear him saying ‘I don't work like that no more’ and frown, you manage to take out the last one around you and, just as you turn, you see Rumlow launch a grenade into the truck and say “Fire in the hole.”

You run towards it, knowing Natasha’s probably in it, but it explodes before you can get close and do anything, the door flying and Natasha falling out of it coughing.

Once you’re sure she’s okay, you turn around but Rumlow’s already gone.

“Sam. He's in an AFV heading north.” you hear Steve say and, sharing a nod with Natasha, you get back onto your bikes and run to catch up with the truck.

“I got six, they're splitting up.” Sam says just as you and Natasha get to where they ditched the truck.

Natasha jumps onto a car and then another and you follow her. “I got the two on the left.” she says.

“I got the middle!” you say and start your pursuit.

“They ditched their gear. It's a shell game now.” you hear Steve say as you run after your two guys. “One of them has the payload.”

Just as you manage to catch up to your guys and knock one of them out, you can hear Sam saying “He doesn't have it. I’m empty.”

You quickly take down the other guy and search through them. “I struck out, too.”

Then you hear Natasha say “Payload secure.” and you allow yourself to relax.

“Thanks, Sam.” She adds.

“Don't thank me.” he answers and you frown, confused as you start making your way back.

“I’m… not thanking that thing.” is all Natasha needs to say for you to understand, and you roll your eyes.

“His name is Redwing.” Sam corrects her.

“I'm still not thanking it.” she says.

“He's cute. Go ahead, pet him.” he says and you can’t help but laugh.

Your amusement is cut short as you hear Steve’s grunts, clearly still in a fight and you try to move faster to make your way to him.

You catch up right after Wanda, just as Rumlow says “And you're coming with me.” and activates the bomb vest he’s wearing.

You don’t have time to even try and cover yourself as Wanda keeps the blast contained in a ball around Rumlow, his screams the only thing that can be heard.

She launches him in the air and the ball of energy explodes too close to the building next to it, setting a couple of floors on fire.

As you all watch in horror, you barely register Steve asking Sam for Fire and Rescue as you put your hands on Wanda’s shoulders and turn her away from the building. You let her rest her head on your shoulder as she starts crying, your own shocked attention still on the building.

This is not good.

-

It’s been a rough couple of days for the team after the mission in Lagos.

You’re all back at the compound now, and you’re on your way to the conference room to wait there for Tony when you pass Wanda’s room and hear her talking to Steve.

“Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and… all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn.” Steve pauses “And people died. It's on me.”

“It's on both of us.” Wanda counters.

“This job…” Steve starts “we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time… maybe nobody gets saved.” 

You see Vision approach and keep walking to make your way to the conference room, exchanging a knowing nod with him.

When you get there you’re a little startled to see The Secretary of State, but you sit down at the table in silence.

Once everyone gets there, Steve sits at the head of table, to his left Sam, then Vision and then Wanda, to his right you then Natasha, then Rhodey and Tony is sitting in a chair by himself to the right of the table.

Secretary Ross is on his feet in front of the table and, once everyone takes a seat, he starts talking.

“Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass… I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some… who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’”

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

“How about ‘dangerous’?” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Definitely not the word you were expecting “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross activates a screen behind him and News footage from past Avengers and SHIELD matters flash on the screen as he speaks.

“New York.” A Chitauri leviathan. Terrified citizens. A soldier firing a gun. The Hulk smashes into a building and sends a dust cloud that engulfs the camera. Rhodey looks regretful and he glances behind him at Natasha.

“Washington DC.” The three Insight helicarriers, firing on each other. The destroyed Triskelion. A helicarrier crashing into the Potomac and throwing up a massive wave, engulfing citizens and the camera. You and Sam look at each other, then down.

“Sokovia.” Terrified citizens, running. The city rising. A building falling over. Everyone’s eyes are glued to the screen.

“Lagos.” The burning building. Paramedics moving a body. A dead girl. Wanda is particularly affected by the footage from Lagos. Steve sees this and intervenes.

“Okay. That's enough.” Steve says, looking at Wanda.

Secretary Ross nods to his aide and the images disappear, then he starts talking again.

“For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” he places a thick document on the desk and passes it to Wanda. She looks at it and then slides it over to Rhodey. “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place.” Steve points out. “I feel we've done that.”

“Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” Steve looks up and meets Ross's eyes. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there'd be consequences.”

You narrow your eyes at him. They’re people, not weapons. Before you can voice your thoughts he goes on. “Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.” He points at the Accords.

“So, there are contingencies.” Rhodey says, familiar with the politics by now.

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.” Steve glances at Tony “Talk it over.”

He starts to walk away when you speak up for the first time. “And if we come to a decision you don't like?”

Ross stops and looks back at you. “Then you retire.” he deadpans.

You simply nod, trying to stifle a grin and, when you look at Natasha, you can see she’s doing the same.

He leaves with his aide and there’s a moment of silence before you all get up and walk quietly to the common room. Some sitting, some standing and Tony laying down on a chair. And then the discussion starts.

-

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.” Rhodey says to sam. You’ve lost track of how long the team has been discussing.

“So let's say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam,” He leans in to look at Sam since you’re currently between the two men. “and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

“Why am I always in the middle of this?” you say, a little exasperated at the two that are almost glaring at each other now, you make eye contact with Nat and she clearly feels the same way you do.

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam says, ignoring your comment.

“I have an equation.” Vision jumps in and everyone looks at him.

“Oh, this will clear it up.” you say sarcastically and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.” Vision explains.

“Are you saying it's our fault?” Steve asks.

“I'm saying there may be a causality.” Vision clarifies, before going on “Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom.” Rhodey says and you roll your eyes while Sam glares at him.

“Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.” Natasha points out.

“It's because he's already made up his mind.” Steve says.

“Boy, you know me so well.” Tony says sarcastically and gets up, rubbing his head. “Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a mug before continuing. “That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort- Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

He puts his phone in a basket and taps it, the phone projects an image of a smiling young man. He looks down, then back up, and pretends to notice the picture for the first time. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.” Everyone is listening to him intently as he seems to be having a little meltdown, but his words are clearly affecting the whole team.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” He pauses and takes a pill with some coffee, then faces you all. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” Steve says.

“Who said we're giving up?” Tony promptly answers.

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions.” Steve counters. “This document just shifts the blame.”

“I'm sorry. Steve. That- that is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey says. “This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” you interject, seeing Steve’s point.

“That's good. That's why I'm here.” Tony says, pointing at you. “When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that.” you tell him, then Steve talks, nodding at you.

“She’s right. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” Steve says.

“If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later.” Tony reasons. “That's the fact. That won't be pretty.”

“You're saying they'll come for me.” Wanda speaks up for the first time since this discussion started.

“We would protect you.” Vision says confidently.

“Could we?” you say and everyone looks at you, so you elaborate. “If we don’t sign this we’re criminals for even trying to keep her safe. If we do sign, it’ll be our job to come for her if we get ordered to.”

There’s a moment of silence while you all think about this, before Natasha speaks up. “Maybe Tony's right.”

You all look at her, surprised. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-” she gets interrupted by Sam.

“Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“He’s not wrong, Tasha.” You add.

“I'm just… I'm reading the terrain.” She explains. “We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up.” Tony says and looks at Natasha, clearly amused. “I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed--I win.”

They all start to talk over each other, but you’re focused on Steve’s phone that you can see over his shoulder since you’re standing right behind him. He gets a text that says ‘She’s gone. In her sleep.’ and you frown, watching Steve quickly get up.

“I have to go.” is all he says while dropping the Accords on the coffee table and, when he exits the room, you exchange a worried glance with Sam.

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham

[8-rae-rae-8]

Come back for me CH.2

A fic idea sent by an anon who I love ever much <3

Lost work count

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (2009), Canon-Typical Violence, Violence, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Mild Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Age Regression Little Simon "Ghost" Riley, Age Regression Caregiver John "Soap" MacTavish, Captain John "Soap" MacTavish, rewritten ending of 09, Age Regression/De-Aging, pet regression pet regression pup Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Little Space, Age Regression, Caregiver John Price (Call of Duty), Shepherd is the worst, Gun Violence, Face Slapping, Mocking, Men Crying, Crying, Gaz is dead already remember, i didnt forget him, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

They'd been without contact for hours.

Ghost and Roach were too far to drive to find them. Now it was Price and Mactavish.

And dammit if they were going to let Shepherd kill them. They were the captains’ boys. It would be a death sentence.

So as the call screen loaded, their hearts were in their chests. Then there they were.

Their boys, but in worse condition then they were left off.

Wounds littering Roach's body. A slash across Ghost's thigh, and other minimal cuts. But Ghost was crying. Even with the shitty quality of their video, Soap could see it clearly.

Maskless Ghost was somehow more terrifying than his wounds. It wasn't by his own volition, Mactavish knew that. A sick taste was quick to appear in his mouth.

“Simon! Roach!?”

“Shepherd.”

The both of them spoke in unison. Worry to Soap's voice, while Price was angry about their new target. Shepherd put a target on his head from just being near the boys like this.

The scene was troubling.

Shepherd stood to the side, while Roach and Ghost were on their knees next to each other. Roach uses his weak body to shield part of Simon's.

Johnny’s eyes burned with anger, but didn't unleash it.

The way Simon took the protection from Roach, and had begun to curl in on himself said all he needed to know. His boy was too small to see extra anger.

“You'll see them again if you cooperate.” Shepherd demanded. To emphasize this point, he grabbed Simon by the hair on the side of his head. Pulling and tugging him with it.

“No- no-” Simon was quick to cry out as he was jerked to the side. His eyes squeezed.

“Shut up.” Shepherd hissed and pushed him back to how he was sitting before.

Simon choked back a cry, hiding his face behind Roach's head.

“Get yer filthy fookin’ hands off him!” Mactavish shouted to the screen, his hands shaking from their place on the table as he leaned forward.

There was no attempt of anything from Price. He looked almost proud that Soap was taking care of the boys, and Shepherd. He was capable and hardly held back, Price admired that about him.

“‘friad I can't, captain. I need you two to stop your chase. You're not getting Makarov. It's not in the cards.” Because Shepherd wanted him like a greedy bastard.

“I ahm not yer goddamn dog, Shepherd, ye can't take us off the bloody mission!” Mactavish hissed.

“Well it seems we have a dog here, maybe I'll just have to train him to get you first.”

Roach.

Soap's eyes widened a split second. Oh god, not the two of them regressing. Getting them back safe would be a nightmare without a single clear head.

And speaking of dog… Roach growled and barked up at Shepherd. As if he was trying to prove his strength.

“Down, Roach! Don't fight him.” Price stepped in, finally.

Surprisingly, Roach listened. His focus went to Simon instead. Simon who was fighting off sobs.

“See you've trained him already. It should be easy enough to fix his priorities then. Shepherd threatened.

“Don't you fookin' dare.” Johnny glared. Even though he'd never say Roach was his pup, he still would defend him at every turn.

“I won't, as long as you give up on Makarov.”

Negotiation was one of the few things Soap couldn't stand to deal with when it was with people like this. Assholes who just didn't back down.

“B-bubba…” Simon wearily muttered, his head picked up slightly to see him.

Johnny's heart caught in his chest. Tears glossing over his own eyes. His boy, he needed to save him.

“Deal.” Price seemed to speak for him.

With their boys at risk, it was a no brainer. A deal would save both boys' lives. Even if it gave up their target.

“Perfect.” Shepherd smirked.

That sick grin, Soap wished he could smack it off his face.

“You'll see them at base then.”

That was so far. Too far and he didn't want to wait. Thank god Nikolai was close with their plane.