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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

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Foreigner's God: Chapter 16

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: It's the morning after - but is it really a 'morning after' if the events repeat themselves?

Warnings: Smut (anywhere but a bed), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, orgasm control, clit slapping, degradation, choking, dom/sub dynamic, dom!Matt, p in v (unprotected), breeding kink, cum play, religion kink, blasphemy, slight angst at the beginning, mentions of grooming and an awkward conversation about sex

Word Count: 14.4k

A/n: I'm just digging my own grave here. How far in hell do you guys think I'll go when I die? Surely, there is a place reserved for especially horny fuckers like me (and you, if you're reading this. No offense, we're all the same here. There's no shame in this game period)

I literally just spat on catholicism (and all of Christianity, for that matter) in this one... If you don't like the use of religious imagery during sex, do not read on!

Read Chapter 16: Do I Wanna Know? here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

Sex is amazing, rough sex even more so, as long as both parties enjoy it. What’s not amazing is the morning after. Sometimes it’s awkward, other times it involves tremendous guilt, and even if it doesn’t involve either thing, the soreness sucks.

Eliza woke up to the sun tickling her skin and forcing her to awake. She turned around, looking at the alarm clock next to the bed. Matt was gone. Her hand met the air when she touched his side of the bed. The time showed 11:32 am. It was late, pretty late.

She almost forgot what happened the night before. The sudden movement shot pain straight through her core. Her panties were suddenly too rough and the shirt brushed terribly over her breasts. Her neck was bruised, she could feel the way the skin pulled just underneath her fingers. But oh, did it feel victorious.

She took a careful glimpse at her hips. The hickeys were more than prominent, one on either side, and there were marks of the same proportions sucked into the insides of her thighs. She loved them. She loved every last mark he left on her because it reminded her of what happened. It wasn't supposed to feel good. She wasn't supposed to feel so happy, not with everything else going on. There was no time for this, technically. Practically though, she couldn't possibly go without having him inside of her again and again and again for an entire day. It felt like a virtual impossibility.

“Shit,” she cursed quietly. She could barely stand. Her legs were trembling. If Matt picked up on that, she would never hear the end of it.

Eliza slid the bedroom door open. He must have closed it again after leaving to keep the sounds out. Plates were clattering in the kitchen. The coffee maker sizzled. Slow jazz music was playing. She crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame, watching Matt with his back turned as he poured the scrambled eggs into the pan.

“Good morning,” he said.

She scoffed. Of course, he heard her. "Hey," she said. Her voice was still thick with sleep, a little raspy too. She couldn't see him, but he was smiling. "You always let your hook-ups wake up alone?"

He tensed up at the joke.

"Sorry." She realized how that had sounded. "I was just..." her hand trailed off along with her words.

She missed his touch. She wanted him to move from the kitchen and hug her, do anything but stand several feet away from her. The weather outside was warm, she knew it was, yet she was freezing, and not because she was lacking clothes.

“I wanted to let you sleep in," he clarified. "Despite what you keep telling yourself, you need sleep. And you know, you’re adorable when you sleep, so I did us both a favor.”

Finally, he turned to look at her. There was this glint in his eyes again, and he was smiling, competing with the sun streaming in through the tainted windows.

Eliza hugged her arms around herself. Damn it, he looked so beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat, and then another one and another until she felt like she couldn't breathe, and suddenly she was more than glad that Matt wasn't close to her. She would have pushed him away.

He took her silence and changed the topic. "Breakfast is almost done," he said.

She took a closer look at his get-up. He was dressed in his work suit, the grey one, minus the jacket and the tie. Both hung over one of the chairs at the dining table. He had combed his hair and the bruises on his face appeared fainter than the day before – did he steal her concealer or did he keep one for emergencies?

“I used yours.”

“You can read minds now?” she asked.

He chuckled. “No, but you tend to think pretty loudly.” When he finally turned fully around, he was smiling. It was a full one, the one she liked.

“If you say so.”

Matt carried the plates to the table. She caught glimpse of the croissants and the orange juice, amongst the other various breakfast choices he had laid out for them. He even cut up some fruit.

“You went shopping,” she observed.

“Didn’t want to serve you beer and cereal, which were the only things I had left in my fridge. So I thought, what if I just bought some milk, but then again, who serves their guests cereal for breakfast? That would have been really sad. Anyway, that’s why I got some more stuff to, uh, choose from. Eggs, fruit, bread - you know, the good stuff. All without meat, I made sure of that.”

Eliza bit down on her thumb. If the heart were the same type of organ as the penis, she would have gotten an obvious boner by now. “And you did this all for me?”

“Sure,” he said. It was natural. Making her breakfast, doing all the things no one had ever done for her before. But it wasn’t supposed to be. “I noticed you don’t eat enough. Your blood sugar bottoms out, your heartbeat is either too fast or too slow, and your stomach grumbles a lot.” His silly chuckle somehow made her smile, too. “If you don’t want to do it for yourself, that’s fine, but then at least do it for me. I’m the one who has to listen to your body scream for sustenance. It’s irritating.”

“Duly noted,” she said.

“You need to know," he leaned on the back of his chair with the veins on his forearm popping out like he was intentionally trying to kill her, "I don't usually do breakfast.”

The conversation she had been dreading.

He chuckled, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, the evidence of just how uncomfortable he felt. “Foggy likes to call me a manwhore and you know, maybe he's right. I don’t really keep count, that would be weird, but relationships and I… we’re not speaking terms. Pun intended.”

She nodded again.

“I thought it'd be only fair to tell you that most of my mornings after don't go like this. Not like I can't tell you already knew that by the way your heartbeat just picked up, and you’re listening to me, so I take that as a sign that you’re not about to smack the hell out of me, but yeah... I felt the need to say it out loud. Open communication, you know. Get it all out there.”

Admitting to having an active sex life shouldn’t have to feel so humiliating.

Her bare feet patted closer to him. “I figured that much,” she said. The thought of him with other women made her feel insecure all of a sudden.

"Okay.” Matt took another deep breath, pushing himself off the chair again. “What I'm trying to tell you is that you're not like everyone else. You're not some woman I picked up in a bar to have sex with just to get the edge off. No. I know you think that but it's not true. I wouldn’t do that to you, not ever. That’s not… I’m trying not to be like that anymore. Have been for a long time. I just get weak sometimes and I can’t help it, but I promise you, it’s been a long time. I haven’t had anyone over in a while. If I did, I would tell you.”

Eliza nodded. "Okay." She chose to believe him.

"I'd like to take care of you if you'll let me, just to prove to you that I meant everything that I said last night." He motioned to the table. "I care about you, and I don’t want this to ruin us. It’s the last thing I want, believe me. Please? Let me take care of you, Eliza.” She couldn't say no to his smile either.

He was surprised at her following actions. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting her head right in his neck and the rest of her barely covered body right on his. He hugged her back. His arms wrapped all the way around her, holding her close to his chest. His heart skipped a beat. She couldn't feel it. He was more than glad she didn't share the same abilities.

Matt wasn't sure what he was doing. He had told her the truth without actually telling her and now he felt guilty. He felt guilty because he was still carrying the same, big secret he had taken her to bed with. He had sex with her. He made her breakfast. He was acting as if they were in a committed relationship and he didn't mind. In fact, he loved it, but Eliza was complex. He could hear the confusion in the way she moved. Her attraction seemed entirely physical.

She cared more than the general population, she was a good friend, an even better person, and a hero, but there was one thing she couldn't do: Love. Eliza wasn't sure how to fall in love or how to even stay in it. She hated herself. Truly, she was incapable of relationships that went beyond sex and since that seemed to be what Matt was starting to want, she found herself in the worst position possible.

What the hell are we supposed to do now?

She kissed him as if that would answer her question and solve the internal battle she had to fight with herself. It just momentarily eased the ache. Finally, he kissed back. She could lose herself in that feeling forever. It was much better than love or friendship. It was an easy feeling to sort. Physical attraction made sense.

"Thank you, Matt," she said. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say, and she meant it, every last syllable.

He pressed his forehead to hers. She sensed sadness in his eyes. The colors were dancing tango around his soul.

"Yeah, of course," he hummed back.

"No, seriously. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Die, probably."

"Yeah, probably."

"C'mon.” He squeezed her hips. "Let's eat breakfast.“

She lowered herself down on the hardwood chair. The second her ass hit the surface, she regretted ever considering sitting down. Her wince didn’t go unnoticed, but that was to be expected.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. She was lying.

Matt sighed. He opened the fridge, retrieving the ice pack he kept there for the many nights he came home with a black eye. Either that or he used frozen beans. He walked around her and dropped it in her lap, gently pushing it against her aching core. She hissed. It was cold and the pressure sent shockwaves through her body. She was incredibly overstimulated.

He rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Cue the catholic guilt. He traced over her neck, feeling the blood pooling underneath where his fingers used to be. His voice cracked, “Is it bad?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?”

She caught his hand. “No, Matt, I’m okay. Just sore.” She shifted to readjust the ice pack. Her legs protested. “Like, very sore,” she said, and that made him chuckle. "Seriously, it's like a whole bench truck rolled over me, or I accidentally sat down on a beehive, and now everything's on fire."

He laughed at her bluntness. "Sitting on a beehive does not sound fun. Have you done it before?”

“Shut up!" she snorted. "I asked for it, remember? My body just isn’t used to this anymore. Having sex, I mean. It’s been a long time for me too, y’know. Very long.”

“Oh.”

“About a year and a half, to be exact, and it lasted for about five minutes instead of five rounds. So, this is all a bit confusing for me, too.”

His head snapped around. “What?!” he blinked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” The question came soft. "I would have been gentler." He brushed over the bruise on her throat again. It was fading by the second, but he couldn’t see that. His mind switched to the ice pack, then he remembered the many hickeys he couldn’t help but leave. She was completely covered in him. But at what cost?

“I shouldn’t have squeezed this hard,” she heard him mutter. “I should have been in better control of myself?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stared at him. “Why do you feel guilty for something I wanted and clearly enjoyed?”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t look like someone jumped you.”

“That’s because I was jumped. By you.”

“Okay,” he chuckled drily, “but the choking…”

“Was something I asked for. Besides, I bruise like a fucking peach. You’re not special.”

His eyebrows shot up. It took him a moment to process.

“You heard me,” she said. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. You’re not that strong.”

A laugh bubbled out of him. “You really have no filter, do you?” he said.

“No.”

“God.” His chin tilted upwards. “You’re…”

“What?” She smirked.

“I don’t- you’re crazy.” He wanted to say something else entirely. “I should have asked you before,” he said. “I didn’t think… you made it sound like you do this more often.”

“I used to before Sokovia literally dropped out of the sky,” she told him. “The Avengers kind of went to shit after that. Didn’t have much time to think about sex between all the rules and the people dying around me.”

“Okay, fair point.”

“Hey,” Eliza said and reached for his hand on the table, squeezing it once she finally grabbed a hold of him. “You eased me into it. You didn’t just fuck me, you took your time and you talked to me and I-“ she struggled. She wasn’t sure how to say it without getting emotional. “I’m not used to this, not at all, and it scared me at first, how willing you are to listen to me, but I… I felt seen, for the first time. Do you- does that make sense to you? I’m not- okay, I have no idea how to talk about sex, so I’m just gonna stop now. This is embarrassing.”

Eliza hid behind the lid of her mug, eyes closed. The silence was agonizing. She didn’t want to look at him. There was always the possibility of being resented, and she wouldn’t survive that.

His soft voice and the spoken words made her heart flutter like a little butterfly. “It's not embarrassing," he said.

"It kind of is. I mean, I'm not nearly experienced enough. I don't know how to do this."

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't been in a situation like this before either." He smiled alongside his words. "Like I said, this isn't what I usually do."

"Manwhore," she said, "Yeah, got it."

He barked out a laugh. "Of course, that's the one thing you remember."

"I would have made that deduction myself, but you do this thing with your mouth..." she shook her head, "I don't know. You're pretty good for a manwhore."

"Ah, thank you."

"Not that the bar had been high. That thing was impossibly low. You could have been on your knees and still hit your head.”

His face turned serious, as did his tone. "I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “So it's true then. No one has ever tried to understand what you like. They just took what they wanted, leaving you high and dry.”

"Pretty much," she said.

“Christ, I’m… how did you… why did you…” His frown showed his hard time understanding.

It wasn't all that complicated though. She picked men who chose to have sex for their own pleasure, men who didn't care about their partners, they just wanted to stick their dick somewhere and get off. There was no reason why.

There was no thrill in not enjoying sex, she realized that the second Matt kissed her the night before. He was supposed to be the standard to live by, not some guy off Tinder looking for a fuck-doll. But the number of people who were like Matt was limited to one. There could only be one of him, only one who did it quite like him, and that made her feel a little better.

"I just want to understand why you settled for less than what you deserve," he said, managing to piece his messy thoughts together.

“Don’t ask me," she answered. "After last night, I’m questioning a lot of things myself.”

“The things you like... it should be fun. You should be with someone willing to entertain your fantasies, as long as they don't cross a line, not someone who failed every possible anatomy lesson in high school."

“You wanna tell me that you knew all of that from the beginning?"

"Of course not," he chuckled softly, "but I experimented. I experimented and I learned what it could be like to share intimacy with other people. What it should be like. I had sex because I enjoyed it and I made sure that the other person was just as comfortable as me. It’s what should matter. Of course, you don’t know any of this right after your first time, you learn as you go.”

"My first time was in the dirty bathroom of a bar.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him that. “I was nineteen, the guy was probably thirty-two.”

He blinked. “What?”

The math in his head triggered all sorts of alarms.

“Yeah,” she said. “But I was also high on Oxy at the time, so I wasn’t really there. Mentally, at least.“

Once she got to talking, it was hard to stop. The tension in his shoulders multiplied by the second. Her words hit parts of him that urged the animal out of hiding. The animal that didn’t want her to get hurt. The animal was ready to burn the world down to destroy everyone who had already hurt her and prevent any further damage. The animal that was so carnal, revenge came naturally and as second nature. He just wanted to destroy everyone she told him had hurt her in one way or another because she deserved the best and the people who used her deserved nothing but whatever punishment the devil had planned for them even long before their demise.

“Did he-“

“No. I wanted to. Or I thought I did. I know I said yes, but I didn't know what I was signing up for.”

“I don’t think it counts then. If you didn’t like it, you don’t have to say it was your first time. Virginity is a social construct anyway.”

“I second that, but what’s the point?”

“You could start over.”

“What’s done is done,” she stated.

“No,” he said sternly. “The guy groomed you. That wasn’t sex.”

“You’re right, he did. I’m not even gonna sugarcoat it. It’s bad. He was too old, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I was high. We both were. The consent on this one is a bit dubious but on both ends.“

“Okay.” He took a big breath. “You’re right,” it hurt him to cave. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’m just curious,” he leaned forward, “Why did you continue having sex with people you don’t enjoy it with instead of finding someone you like?”

She supposed the question was fair and accounted for.

"I watched porn.”

“What?”

“To prepare myself, I mean, but there is something inherently wrong about a lot of porn. It doesn't match up with reality at all. Most of it is staged. They fake orgasms, making the watcher believe it's that easy to cum. And everyone enjoys it. When you watch porn, everyone's moaning and they're having the time of their lives, no matter with what partner, so I thought that's what it's like. Fun. Sexy. Pleasing."

"And then the guy picked you up and it was nothing like what you prepared for."

“And I simply thought I was broken, so I accepted it.”

His nostrils flared. "God, this is- I'm sorry."

"No one told me it was going to hurt, that you had to be gentle the first time. I never had the talk because I didn't have parents, and Tony wouldn't bother, which I understand. I wouldn't have wanted him to. I didn't like having sex, I never had an orgasm before, and I was okay with that. It's sex. Everyone does it. Gets your mind off of things, even when you're not enjoying yourself. I don't know, I guess after that first time, I thought that's what sex is like. The guy offered, he showed me the only kind of affection I knew how to deal with and I was just so fucking broken, I couldn't help it. I needed to get rid of a pain that not even the drugs could make disappear, and I'm not even sure what kind of pain it was- is.” She scoffed into her coffee, watching as the liquid parted with her breathing. “I realize now that I might have oversexualized myself because all the men in my life ever did."

She expected a smart comeback, but instead, he took the hand that wasn't holding onto porcelain in both of his and kissed over her knuckles. "You're worth so much more than what they made you believe," he said.

"I keep thinking if someone had just told me, if I had known better, things wouldn't have turned out the way they did," she said. "I don't know. It's a stupid thought. I probably wouldn't have listened anyway."

"You can't put the blame on yourself," he said.

"But I chose to sleep with the wrong people."

"Still not your fault."

She smiled softly, almost sadly. "You put me on too high of a pedestal, Matt."

He shook his head, kissing her knuckles again. Part of him wanted to agree because he knew that. He knew he was thinking of her as some saint, but she wasn't. She was a person. No one is ever truly perfect. She had rough edges, she had issues and she wasn't relationship material. The things she did in the past would never go away. She was tainted. She wasn't the pure, innocent woman he liked to think her to be. But he didn't fall in love with her because he thought that. He fell in love with her because she wasn't perfect. She was far from that. She was neither a sinner nor a saint. She was Eliza. She was his person. He fell in love with her, all of her, not just the perfect picture his subconscious liked to paint. He fell in love with her for her, nothing else, nothing less, and nothing more. She was everything already. She was his world. She was everything he wanted and would ever need by his side. Losing her, he was sure, he wouldn't survive. And for Matt, that was one of the scariest yet exciting things to realize.

He blew over the wetness his lips left behind. She shuddered. The Matt Murdock effect was a dangerous game. "No," he whispered into her skin, hoping his voice would stay tattooed there, his words branded into her brain, "You're right where you need to be."

"And where is that?" she breathed.

"With me." Lovesick, a person would use to describe the look on his face. Trapped in a constant state of bliss.

"What does that mean? For us, I mean."

"I don't know. We'll figure it out." He had no doubts about that.

Eliza sighed. It didn't feel right. All of this was just too damn perfect. She hated perfect. She hated happiness. She hated couples who flaunted their relationships as if it wasn't the hardest thing to do. Most of all though, she hated love, because love is a fucking tricky bitch and she hated what it did to her.

She hated who she was becoming. She hated that she was doing this to him and he had no idea. He had no idea she was going to break his heart. It was the only thing she knew how to do. Whenever a perfect thing presented herself, something good, something stable, something that could possibly heal her broken soul and make her whole again, she felt the sudden urge to destroy it, and she would because that was all she knew how to do. Destroy the only good things in her life.

She was a menace. A wrecking ball. Her powers weren't the problem, and neither was the reality stone - she was.

Her voice was the last crack in the foundation. "I'm sorry." She was sorry for nothing in particular. She was sorry for everything.

He reacted differently from what she expected. He leaned over, grabbed her face, and kissed her. His eyes were glossed over and slightly red, and his lashes were already wet from the transference. "Listen," he called her name softly, "Promise me something?"

Eliza nodded.

"Whenever someone tries to take advantage of you, hurt you, or use you, fight back. And I don't mean physically because I know you're more than capable of that." He stopped to sniffle, trying to divert the tears. Those were tears stemming from a deep, sensitive part of him that constantly wanted to die whenever he was near her - he cared that much. "I mean, you need to fight back and talk about what you want. I need you to use your words to stand up for yourself, and if that's not enough, please, for the love of God, hit whoever tries to hurt you so hard, they will learn what it's like to be blind."

She wasn't sure how to deal with this whirlwind of emotions. He watched in horror as she broke down crying in front of him. Her hand dropped in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks, and the sobs wrecking her body were painful to listen to. Every intake of breath was louder than the next one. If she kept this going, she would hyperventilate. Her heartbeat was already through the roof.

A hand found the back of her neck, moving her forward until she was safe in his arms. She tried to fight it, but Matt was stronger. He held her tightly against him, hoping she could hear his heart beating, hoping she could feel the comforting warmth and realize just how much she meant to him. He wanted that to be enough.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "Fuck! I don't deserve you. I don't."

He shook his head instantly. "Don't do that," he said. "Don't say that."

"I can't do this."

I can't love you.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Whatever this is, we can figure it out."

He was too good for her, to her.

"I promise you," he said, holding her a little further away, just enough to press their foreheads together and her hand against the left side of his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart. "I have you," he said, "and I'm never letting you go. You're mine now and I'm yours. C'mon. You and me against the world, remember?"

"You and me?" she asked. The tears finally subsided, but the numb aching in her chest remained. She needed a remedy, something to reverse the poison her mind shot into her veins, tainting her perception of what she truly wanted.

"It's always gonna be you and me, sweetheart. Until the world ends."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, promise."

Her eyes flicked to his lips. He wet them. There was so much left to discuss, so many things left unsaid, but none of that mattered. She felt trapped in her mind, the place was terrifying, and she needed out. The only way to do so was right in front of her, handsome and bruised, an angel with broken wings.

She kissed him first. The force tilted the chair back, his foot being the only thing keeping them connected to the floor. Eliza threw her entire weight against him as if that somehow would make her melt into him and make her disappear, just for a minute.

Regaining composure, Matt kissed her back with just about the same amount of force. Messy fingers mapped out every last inch of skin he could find. The picture of her was burned into his brain. He knew he could have her simply by saying the word. She would jump at the slightest possibility to please him. And as much as he loved the thought of that, he couldn't follow through with it.

He forced her face away from his. “I think we should talk about this first," he said.

She was afraid of talking. Talking ruined too much. “Why talk when you could do something else?” she said. Words weren't meant for people like her.

He was weak. Pathetic, foolish, idiotic, and the list went on. She flicked the switch and the tables turned. He licked his lips. “I can’t,” but he wanted to. “I’ve got an appointment with the prison Fisk is being held in.” Though his thumb tweaked her nipple. The other hand moved up her side, touching where he left the hickeys. He could feel them underneath his calloused fingertips. The fabric of his dress shirt was so thin, he could feel her heat radiating through it.

Eliza pouted. His dress pants did little to conceal his erection. Amazing what just a little kissing could do to a man that proud himself on having self-control.

“God, you drive me crazy, you know that?”

She ground down on him, sucking his bottom lip between hers. The sound was obscene. “I know.”

He hummed. His fingers worked wonders to ease the knots in her back and upper thighs that were restricting her movements. She relaxed in his arms.

"I think you need a hot shower," he said. "Always helps with sore muscles."

“I'm not in the mood for a shower."

"Why not?“

“‘Cause that’s not what I’m in the mood for.” Her eyes darkened. She prayed for him to get the hint.

Matt kept massaging her thigh, but his hand started to move further up until he reached her ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze. At this point, he was fully hard in his pants, cock straining painfully against the thin fabric.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

The smack against her left cheek was gentle, yet enough to make her jolt forward. “Yeah,” he breathed into her mouth, engulfing her in a tight hug as he pressed their lips together in a sloppy battle of tongue and teeth.

“You’re enjoying yourself too,” he underlined his words with a swift squeeze of her ass, causing her to moan against his hot mouth.

“Hmm, seems like I am." She played with the collar of his shirt where his tie was supposed to sit. One of the buttons opened itself. "I guess I just really like your lap."

"You do look good in my lap," he said. "It's almost like you were made for me."

"What a shame then that you can't enjoy it. I have so many great ideas."

Matt moved her further up so she was resting right above his crotch. "Oh yeah," he breathed huskily. "What would that be, exactly?"

"Oh, it involves a lot of sex."

"Really? Tell me more.”

He breathed in sharply. Her arousal made him high. Her scent lay in the air, thick and choking him into unconsciousness.

"You'd fuck me," she said. "Right on this table, then the kitchen counter, against the wall, the couch-"

"Damn," he interrupted her. His cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. "Do we ever get to the bed in your theory, or is it just random surfaces in the apartment?"

"That depends. How much time do you have?"

"None," he had to admit, sadly.

Eliza hissed. "Bummer, and I was just getting started."

"I know. I can smell you, sweetheart." His nose nudged at her neck.

"You can actually smell me?"

"Oh, yes."

"So you could tell every time I-“ she was panicking.

“Well, not on purpose!”

“Oh, my God.”

He grabbed her before she could slip off of him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I was trying not to, but the more I tried, the worse it got.” He stroked his hands over her burning cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. There is no reason for you to be. It’s sweet.”

“Me?” she asked, voice quivering.

“Yeah. You’re sweet, and you taste and smell the same. It’s not a bad thing. If anything, you should be proud of yourself. I just have to say something flirty or take my shirt off and-" he snapped, "Instantly, without touching you, your fucking scent fills my nose. It makes my dick so hard, sweetheart. You have no idea how painful that is."

“Jesus Christ, Matt!” Her head dropped into the crook of his neck, which made him laugh. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just so cute when you get flustered.”

“No,” she whined. “You could tell every time you turned me on and you just- you didn’t say anything.”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“No!”

“Then why are we arguing?”

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing.”

“Tell me,” he said and bucked his hips so his hard cock bumped against the wet spot on her panties, “Does this feel like something you should be embarrassed about?”

She bit down on his shoulder. “God.”

“Hm? I don't think so.”

The friction of the two layers of fabric rubbed deliciously against her slick folds, the head of his cock pressing down on her clit ever so slightly, movements restricted by his pants and his boxers. They fell into a steady rhythm. He was as sensitive as ever, every move of her hips knocking the air out of his lungs and adding to the overwhelming pressure in his stomach. She started circling her hips and it hit his cock in all the right places, he threw back his head in absolute bliss, eyes shut and bottom lip bruised from the teeth grazing against it.

“You still embarrassed?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she shot back. Her hips faltered. He whimpered into her ear. “Oh-“ Her muscles twitched with the sudden wave of pleasure that shot straight to her core. The sound was heavenly. A sound so high coming out of a mouth that was usually so tough painted the most delicious picture, one she would never be able to get off her mind again.

His cock in the confines of his slacks was starting to hurt. He tried to angle her differently. The several layers of fabric sliding against the weeping head burned through his entire body, making his toes curl. It was the sweetest form of torture.

Eliza realized he was trying to gain more friction while at the same time, trying to free himself. "You need any help with that?” she asked.

"No, it's good," he said. He broke into a choked-up cry, her cunt leaving a wet trail on the grey of his suit. Her clit brushed against his cock and he could see the stars evading his vision clearly. Even with the world on fire, the darkness managed to explode.

She raked a hand through his hair. Sweaty strands stuck to his forehead. The single tear of pleasure tasted salty on her tongue, licking it up from where it trickled down his bearded chin. The hairs scratched at her tongue. His eyes fluttered shut. She was all over him, lips, hands, heartbeat to heartbeat - she was close enough for him to hear the wetness gush out of her hole, making the desperate back-and-forth of her hips even easier. Her arousal seeped through his pants, through his underwear, and onto his cock. It could have just been sweat mixed with her signature scent; he was too far gone to question the feeling.

His nails dug into her back. "What do you need?" she asked him, breathless and high.

He couldn't possibly form a coherent sentence.

"Do you need me to go faster?"

He nodded feverishly at the suggestion. She grinned against his jaw, picking up the speed of her hips, sliding her cunt harder and faster against his crotch and what she could feel of his sturdy thigh.

With another helpless whine, he demanded, "Kiss me."

She supposed he needed to suppress his moans, even though they were the only thing keeping her going. His voice alone was enough to make her wet, but the sounds erupting from his sound were the definition of pornographic.

In response, she sucked the golden cross in between her teeth and kissed him. He tasted the small piece of metal on his tongue. It was hot, laced with her signature scent and her spit. He kissed her through it, occasionally biting and licking with his tongue. The whole scene was so blasphemous, he should have felt guilty. He should have gone to confession then and there because this wasn’t right, far from it, but there wasn’t a bone in his body that cared.

He growled when she stopped grinding and instead, started palming him through his slacks. “I should punish you for that,” he said. She squeezed her hand around his cock and he moaned, throwing his head back to taste her arousal in the air.

She bit her lip. “Oh, if God could see you now. What would he say then? If he could see what a slut you are for me.”

His hips bucked into her touch.

“You see, you’re not the only one with a dirty mouth,” she said. Skillfully, she unbuckled his belt to free him, finally, and he hissed at the cold air touching the head of his cock. “God,” she growled, “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

His eyes rolled back. “Fuck.”

“Everything about you is absolutely divine. And you're good, so good, Matthew." He could only whimper in response. "It's okay, baby. You can let yourself go. I'll help you."

He grabbed her wrist, encouraging her movements. With every movement, he felt the endless bliss inch a little closer. He bucked his hips in time to meet her hand. The other slipped between her spread thighs, rubbing circles on her swollen clit, playing with the wetness that had collected in her underwear, a mixture between her and him.

Eliza huffed. She took the hand touching her pussy and forced it around her neck. “That’s not what this is,” she said. “Surrender control.”

He gritted his teeth. Of course, he would say no. He once again attempted to move his hands anywhere other than where she forced them to be. It was useless.

"You're not used to this position, are you? You're not used to being the submissive one?"

"I’m letting you do this, sweetheart,” he bit back. She pinched him.

“You could always do this yourself,” her breath was hot against his neck when she kissed his pulse point. His heart skyrocketed. The way her finger kept rubbing over his cock was too much.

“Don’t you dare,” he said.

“Wasn’t planning to.”

“If you would just let me get you off-“

“Aw, are you getting close? Do you not want to be the first to cum?"

“No.”

"That's a shame 'cause I'm not giving in."

"C'mon." He ignored her silent demand to keep his hands to himself, reaching into her panties this time, catching her clit. She stilled. If she allowed herself to enjoy his touch, she wouldn't win. She knew she would fall apart if he kept this up. He drew circles around the sensitive nub, eventually sliding down to collect the wetness at her entrance and rubbing it all over her cunt. Her pulse pounded hard and heavy underneath the sore skin. He could hear and feel it loud and clear.

While his thumb stayed, doing the job it was supposed to do, his middle finger dipped into her hole. She gasped. He wasn't playing fair. This was her moment and he was ruining it by taking control. The position made it a little harder to slide his fingers inside of her, but the man was flexible, especially with his hands. He had no trouble stuffing her with his fingers, his thumb still drawing symbols on her clit. Her thighs twitched. It was unfair how good he felt.

She sighed. "You really can't take when something is given to you, can you?"

"No," he smirked against her neck.

She desperately searched for support when he managed to slide a third finger in.

"Oh, God. Fucking Christ. Shit!"

"Language," he murmured. His lips were sure to leave a bruise on her collarbone.

"Oh, I hate you," she panted. The way his fingers expertly thrust into her had her hanging over the edge in seconds, held up only by a small string of self-control.

Matt kissed her neck. "Sure you do." He didn't seem bothered.

Until her fist tightened so incredibly hard around his cock, he almost came right then and there. "Stop fighting, Matthew," she said.

"You stop fighting." He curled one of his fingers to hit her G-spot.

Her eyebrows shut up. “You are such a brat, Matthew Murdock. This is honestly pathetic.”

She lost hold of his cock, surprised to see him stopping her completely. He kissed her, lips hot and wet, and he stuffed himself back into his dress pants, hard and leaking precum. She was this close to making him come apart. Instead, he chose to torture himself. She was trying to not take it personally.

Who would have figured that the Catholic guilt made Matt Murdock horny as fuck.

He pulled his fingers out of her, leaving her empty and aching, and in one big swoop, he wiped the dining table clean. All the food and cutlery fell to the floor. Liquid spilled everywhere, hopefully not on the carpet. He lifted her off his lap with a single arm, sitting her down on the table.

He ripped his shirt open, the one she wore. Buttons joined the chaos on the floor. “I have ten minutes,” he growled into her neck. “I will make you cum in five and if you try to stop me or pull my head away, I'll make you wish that you'd never pushed me this far.”

Eliza stared up at him. Well, shit.

Instead of pulling the underwear down her legs, he pulled at the waistband. Her cunt was aching, she probably couldn’t take another orgasm, not for another day, so why was it that she found herself in this position again?

She couldn’t help herself. She needed him like she needed air to breathe.

The fabric of her panties was pretty much torn to shreds by the time it landed on the floor. She gasped.

“I want to try something. Would you be okay with that?" He pushed her hair out of her face.

Eliza wanted to say no, but the offer seemed too exciting to decline. "Yeah," she breathed out.

"We need a safe word," he told her. "Green means go, yellow indicates that you’re nearing your limits, and red means-"

"Stop," she finished. "Yeah, got it."

He smirked. "Eager, are we?"

"Well, I'm certainly not gonna cum on my own."

"Okay. Listen, if this weren't so time sensitive, I would leave you here with only your fingers and then see how close you can get without my help." His head cocked at her sharp intake of breath. "So, I'd be careful if I were you. Unless you want to suffer for the rest of the day."

Her whine sufficed. "I'm sorry," she said. She sounded so small. She hated how he managed to make her go from confident to submissive in one go. He reached for the steering wheel and took over. It was frustrating but at the same time, it turned her on like nothing ever had before.

Matt kissed her. "Good girl," he said. He pushed her back with a flat hand on her stomach. "Now be even better and spread your legs for me, sweetheart."

She threw her head back against the wood of the table. His head buried deep in her cunt and while it hurt, she couldn’t help but moan. It felt good, his tongue flat against her folds as he spread them expertly once again to unsheath her clit. Still swollen from the night before, she was sure she was going to finish in less than five minutes.

“Oh, God!” She chanted his name like a prayer. In response to that, a single hand reached for the cross necklace and forced it between her teeth. She moaned. She wanted to gag at the taste, but she couldn’t. She could barely breathe.

The crown of her head was the only thing connecting her to the table. The wood hit the wall behind them repeatedly, with every thrust of his tongue and the desperate attempt to bring her hips closer to his mouth. It made the floor shake, it seemed. Her hands tangled in his hair. He could hear the blood rushing in her thighs next to his ears. It was excruciating, it was painful. He needed more or he would surely die.

What was he doing to her? This couldn’t possibly be real. No one could be as good at eating pussy as he was. She was dreaming, had to be.

His hands found her bare tits. His fingers were rough, his touch gentle. He squeezed the tender flesh. Her nipples perked up at the sudden attention. He tucked at them, expertly playing with them, and it added heavily to the painful pressure building in her lower stomach. She wanted to savor it longer, but she was stumbling on the edge, her muscles too sore to focus on anything other than the high she was chasing.

Her hands found his, keeping him wrapped around her breasts. She encouraged him to squeeze harder. The flesh was incredibly soft underneath his touch.

Matt sucked at her clit again. The suction was wet and obscene and it hurt so good, she choked out a warning. “Fuck, don’t stop,” she said. It was more of a breath than spoken words, but he heard her loud and clear. “Don’t stop!”

Four minutes and thirty-two seconds. He counted the movements of the minute hand inside the clock on his kitchen wall.

She cried loudly when he stopped. Her hips bucked, but the thought alone didn’t work. The pressure subsided. She was left aching, clit pulsating, and the air cold on her pussy. She wanted to pass away. The tears she fought were ones of frustration and pure pleasure. She hated him. It wasn’t fair.

Matt pursed his lips and blew cold air against her clit. She whined. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Her leg twitched from where it was still seated over his shoulder.

“I need you to hold it,” he said. The tone of his voice sounded firm as if something might happen if she disobeyed.

Eliza bit her lip. The blood was pooling in her mouth and around the cross necklace. “I can’t,” she choked out.

Squeezing the outside of her thighs added to the pain of the already-formed bruise. “Stop saying you can’t,” he said.

“I really can’t. I need to-“

His large hand reached over her hip and between her legs. The slap wasn’t loud. He flicked her clit only enough to shock her. She clenched her legs around his neck. Her attempt to pull him in failed, instead he brought his palm back down on her sex.

“Stop,” the demand was clear. “Don’t cum unless I tell you to."

And he dove right back in. His mouth attacked her clit with new vigor. He sucked and nibbled at the skin, tongue pumping into her. It was torture, him between her thighs, the sight of his hooded eyes searching for hers, knowing what he was doing. He moaned, that bastard, and his voice vibrated, adding to the pressure that was steadily growing again. She clenched her muscles, it was the only way to stop the inevitable from happening. Her fingers pulled at his hair so tightly, she could have sworn the next moan he let out was one of pain, not pleasure, but with Matt, the two often blurred the line.

As predicted, she tried to push his head away. It was too much, too painful and she knew if she didn’t, she was going to finish and it was going to hurt even more. The knot was so tight, the glass was about to break. She couldn’t make any noise, she was paralyzed.

He pulled her further into him, the response sounding more like a warning, “What did I say?” he growled. “What did I tell you about pulling my head away?”

She was crying. “I’m sorry, I just- Please, Matthew!”

“No,” he stated plainly.

“Please!”

“You wanna be my good girl?” She nodded feverishly. “Then hold it.”

His head disappeared between her thighs again. He kissed her folds. This one was gentler. He took his time. The rough surface of his tongue felt like sandpaper.

“Fuck!” and she wasn’t sure if she said, Matty or Daddy. Her mind short-circuited. She was a woman out of control and he was holding the remote.

“A bit more,” he whispered to her clit, “You can do it.”

She could have said red and then the torture would have been over. He would have stopped and they could have gone about their day, but truth be told, she didn’t want to. She wanted him to stop yet keep going at the same time and it was fucked up because as much as she tried to ignore it, his dominance was turning her on, and she was more than ready to comply. She was more than ready to suffer through it.

"You taste so good, fuck! I love it when you do as you're told."

“Oh, fuck you, Matthew!”

Her eyes flew open. He stopped.

“What did you just say?” he asked. His chin was glistening with her arousal, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded. “Repeat that back to me, sweetheart. What did you just say?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Matt. I was-"

"I said, repeat it back to me."

"I said fuck you, Matthew. But I didn't mean it, I swear."

Her sobs were pathetic.

"Something tells me you did," he hummed. "Do you want to get off or not?"

"Yes!" she cried out. "Fuck, yes. Please! I need to cum, ah!” His teeth dug into the inside of her thigh. She threw her head back. "I really want to cum. Please, Matthew. I'll be good! I'll be good, I promise."

He cooed, "How could I say no to that?"

She nodded feverishly. She hoped he would continue, allowing her some of the sweet relief she was chasing.

“Hey," he forced her to look at him with a harsh tug at her thighs, "If you keep talking to me like that, I won’t let you cum at all.” The statement left no space for discussion. "We clear?"

"Yes," she choked out. "I'm sorry." The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.

He caught onto the tears and how some of them started to feel like more than just frustration seeping out of her pores. His gaze softened. "You okay?" he asked. His controlling facade dropped and the normal Matt started to peek his head around the corner.

Eliza lifted herself up to her elbows. Her head was dizzy. The ruined orgasm kept on building, even without him touching her, but the lack of pressure on her clit was frustrating and she wanted more. She needed more. She needed all he had to give and his sudden patience made her almost angry.

"What?"

"You okay?" he smiled up at her.

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Fine. What- why are you-" She couldn't even speak properly anymore.

"What's your color?"

This wasn't part of the play.

She blinked again. It took a moment for her brain to piece the puzzle together. "Green," she told him.

Relief washed over him. "Thank you."

“Now, can you get back to what you’re doing or-“

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re gonna wish you didn’t just say that.” And then the dominant Matt returned and she drove back to her bed in heaven. She wanted to stay there for all eternity, and he wouldn't mind building a home between her thighs either. It was his favorite place in the world already, and he had only gotten two tastes so far.

His tongue flattened against her folds. He thrust the tip in, nudging his nose against her clit. The pressure was sweet torture. And he decided to take his time. He explored her insides with his tongue while his hands kept feeling her up. He caught her nipples with his fingers, pinching them. It elicited a cry of pain from her, but it quickly turned to pleasure when he soothed over the ache by squeezing her tits.

“Matt,” she as much as begged. “Can I..."

He shook his head. The movement felt absolutely genius on her sensitive skin. The inside of her thighs was red and her pussy was swollen from all the attention. She would surely find serious beard burn later. He was trying to avoid rubbing against her too much, but with her thighs clenching around his head and squishing his cheeks between them, he didn't have much of a choice but to let it happen. The fire was bittersweet.

He moaned. He did that on purpose. “One more second.”

Every muscle in her body was tense. “I can’t take another second! Fuck!”

“Ah-ah,” his nails dug into her hips, “Do as I say.”

“Please, Matt!”

He decided to have at least some mercy on her. “Fuck my face and I might just let you.”

She bucked her hips into his mouth. He greeted her gladly with all he had to give. It was messy, she was chasing the high her body had been denied so many times before, and pathetically, it took her some time before her legs locked around his head. He was holding her so tight, she wasn’t sure why. Until he groaned, a broken scream, and finally, after what felt like an eternity. “Cum.”

She bit into her forearm when she came. It was way too early for the neighbors to hear obscure moaning from next door. She was pretty convinced, also, that none of this was particularly helpful to her concussion. Her head came down so hard on the wooden table, the sound was deafening even to her ears. The rest of her body shut down, paralyzed in their spot, and Matt was trapped between her thighs. The second the orgasm crashed over her, the pain multiplied. Like a hot sword, it cut through her. But what started as painful slowly turned into pleasure – extreme pleasure. It was the kind of pleasure that makes you see the gates of heaven as your soul slowly descends from your being.

Her fist hit the table. Her teeth drew blood on her arm. The orgasm went on forever, it seemed. Her body wouldn’t stop convulsing underneath him and greedy as he was, he made sure to completely suck her dry. He dragged it on for far too long, but she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the way he took care of her.

The pain long forgotten, all she could feel was his mouth and the small groans he allowed himself to release as he cleaned her up. He sucked up every last drop she had to give

“Good girl,” he said. “Such a good girl.”

He peaked up at her, eyes blown wide with lust and his mouth glistening with her release. He was searching for her face and almost succeeded, but only almost. He failed her by millimeters.

Maybe sex with Matt Murdock was exactly the remedy she needed.

The gentle stroking of his hands along her sides brought her back to life. She breathed shakily, watching him rise to his feet and lean over her, brushing the hairs out of her face, sticky with sweat.

He accidentally brushed against her nipples. She slapped his hand away. He took the hint, making sure to avoid her erogenous zones altogether as he kept kissing her skin to calm her down.

She looked down to see the obvious wet patch in his pants. Oh.

OH.

“You see what you do to me?” he muttered.

She thought him calling her sweetheart was a compliment enough, but damn it! Seeing the effect she had on him was the best fucking compliment anyone could have given her, ever.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“No, thank you.” He stroked her cheek. She watched as he dipped a finger between her legs to collect the wetness still leaking out of her, and he licked his luscious lips. "That was so good."

"Hm. I think you completely ruined my thighs."

His hand soothed over the reddened skin.

"Did you ever consider shaving?" she smirked at him. "Like you shave your chest, I mean."

"Foggy said that makes me look like a baby in a suit," he said.

"Boss baby."

"That's exactly what he called me!" He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Seriously now though, do you need me to shave? Does it hurt?"

She giggled. "No, I like your beard."

"Okay, good."

"And I think I would like it even more if you grew out your chest hair." The post-orgasm haze made her particularly talkative this time around.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"But I can understand why you don't. It's probably uncomfortable with your hypersensitivity, right? I know I get annoyed by my body hair sometimes, so I prefer to shave, but not everyone does and that's okay. Shaved or not, doesn't matter. As long as you're comfortable."

"I actually just thought less hair would be more aesthetically pleasing."

"You're easy on the eyes, either way, Matt," she said. Her hand ran through his hair, down his face, through his stubble until she found his covered chest. She opened three more buttons, just enough to reveal the first half of his chest. The skin was smooth, moisturized, and shaven. He had freckles. They weren't just limited to his perfect nose. He had them everywhere, the top of his chest, his back. The little things she paid attention to were the most beautiful.

He smirked. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Perhaps I will miss a day or two now that I know you like my body hair so much."

"I don't think I'd be able to survive." She sighed dramatically. "It'd be the death of me."

"That bad, huh?"

"The perfect wet dream. Don't make me think about it, you're making me horny again."

Matt pulled his dress pants up by the belt, laughing at the cute nonsense she was spilling. He pushed her foot away when she tried to pull him back into her. She whined.

“I have to go,” he said.

“Can’t you stay for five more minutes?”

“Sweetheart, if we start this, it’s gonna take longer than five minutes, and I’ve already dragged this on for longer than I should have.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fisk’s lawyer is gonna kill me.”

“Just tell them your driver was late or something. Please,” she reached for his small waist, “I need you.”

She had never begged for anything before in her life, especially not for this.

He kissed her, sighing into her mouth. She kissed back harder, pushing her tongue against his. He didn’t have much of a choice. Not without a cold shower first. She made out with him painfully slow, hands caressing his sides, trying to get under his dress shirt. She made work of the buttons, trying not to ruin them, but she was this close to tearing the fabric apart.

“I haven’t felt this free in years,” she breathed against him. “I haven’t felt like anybody found me beautiful for so long, I started to believe that I’m just not worth it.” She moved his hands back to her breasts. He kept them there, squeezing slightly. “And you’re right,” she stopped to moan, “I let the men in my life use me because I believe I don’t deserve better. I just… I’m desperate here, Matt. I’m desperate because I have nothing left to lose, and if I’m not close to you, I’m sure I will break apart. You make me forget about all of this. Please, Matthew.”

This was the first time in all of her existence that she was begging to be loved, just once, just one more time. She had never needed assurance more than at that moment. He was the only person she believed when he told her she was beautiful. He was the only person she could fall into and not care about how she looked or sounded. Matt judged people on a deeper level. He judged them by all the non-superficial things. He wasn’t objective. He could see a person’s soul, almost like she did, and so his judgment was often right. With him, she could breathe. That had never happened before.

He cocked his head. If he took a cab instead of the bus, he still had some time to spare. And he couldn’t say no, not when she sounded so sweet. She was asking him to take care of her. It was new. Eliza hated to admit when she needed someone, which only proved how serious this had to be.

Matt grabbed her chin rather firmly. “Hey,” he said. “You’re so beautiful, don't think any less of you.”

“Show me,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “Show me how beautiful I am.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts.”

It broke him, and not in a sexual sense. He wasn’t quite sure if acting on her wishes was a bad idea; she agreed to it, but she seemed oddly emotional, even for her, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that.

“I can’t take you with me,” he said.

“But you can put your dick in me.”

His breath stuttered. “Sorry?”

“You heard me.” The grin on her face was cocky. “Unless you don’t want to.”

But he had already opened his belt buckle again. “I hate you so much,” the words turned to grunts.

He felt the pattern of the leather, then attempted to look at her. He couldn’t ask her that. They slept together once. Sure, she was kinky, extremely so, and he was so glad to finally have found someone who was more than ready to entertain what he liked, but this was something not made for the second time.

Still, he licked his lips and he wondered what it might be like to tie her hands behind her back while burying his cock to the hilt inside of her from behind, ass bouncing as he kept thrusting to fill her up with his cum, breeding her, marking her.

And he was instantly hard again.

She pulled him closer, but he stopped her before she could kiss him again. He hoisted her up in his arms, legs wrapped around him as he made his way into the kitchen, a higher surface than the table only a few steps away. The marble of the kitchen counter was cold against her bare backside once he set her down, and he easily slipped between her thighs, repositioning her so she was as close to the edge as possible without falling.

Eliza tried to open the button and the zipper at the same time. "Oh, fuck me," she grumbled. His slacks, more expensive than anything else he had in his possession, had a mind of their own. They didn't seem to want this as much as she did and it was frustrating. if someone had told her before that she would get angry at a piece of clothing simply because she was desperate for some dick she probably would have laughed.

"Hey, don't ruin my pants," he said. The amusement was clear in his eyes.

"Don't tell me what to do," she bit back. Finally, the button budged and she managed to slide the zipper down. She shoved the last barrier between them below his ass, just enough to help his cock out of it. She didn't need much more.

His erection poked her stomach. She sighed, almost proud of herself for getting him this far. “Is this okay?” he asked between kisses.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He hooked her leg around his waist. “Tell me, what do you need?”

“I need you, Matt.”

“And what do you need me to do?”

“Fuck me,” she said with an almost frustrated groan. “Just fuck me, please.”

Her desperation made him smile. “Breathe,” it was the only warning he gave before he thrust into her with one smooth move of his hips.

She moaned loudly. He split her open, but unlike the night before, he didn’t care much about taking his time to enter her. Once he bottomed out though, he groaned into her neck and he stayed there. Arms on the counter, hands placed above each other behind her to cage her in, to hold her there, making more than sure she wouldn’t hurt herself. He gave her time to adjust. It was still a surprising stretch, though she was way more relaxed than the first time, which made it easier for him to bury himself to the hilt inside of her. She was so warm, her pussy hugging him so tight, he was convinced that if she moved, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. And Matt wasn’t prone to finishing too early.

Eliza dug her nails into his shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked her, and she bucked her hips forward, hoping it was answer enough. The dark locks he kept groomed but never fully shaved grazed against her clit. An arm reached around her waist.

“Matt,” she begged.

“You need a minute," he said.

"No, I'm fine."

"Trust me. Let me stay here a little longer. Just a minute."

She clenched down on him.

“God, I love it when you do that.”

“What?” she teased, chasing after the bare skin of his torso, pressing her lips everywhere she could find. “This?” She clenched around him again.

He grunted. “Yeah, that.” He reached for her face from where her lips were sucking at his erect nipples.

She tilted her chin up to take his invitation to kiss her. He bunched her hair in his hands; it was wild and free and it was getting in the way of touching her completely. Nails scratched across his torso. Her hips bucked again, this time out of instinct.

“You need me to move?” he asked.

His breath shuddered. “Please.”

“How would you like me to move?”

“Oh, are you kidding me,” the last part of the sentence got swallowed by his mouth.

Matt brought his hips back, pulling out slightly, then thrust forward. He split her open agonizingly slow and she wasn’t having any of it. He chuckled against her throat, her neck thrown back in ecstasy because while his pace was annoying, it felt too good not to enjoy it while it lasted.

He didn’t expect her nails to dig into his ass, pulling him close and deeper into her pussy, and then she pulled at his cheeks until he had almost completely pulled out. He followed her movements with his senses intently, curious about her approach.

He cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing?” he wondered out loud.

“I need you to do something, Matt. Anything, just... don't just stand there,” she said, and she hid her face in his chest to hide the blush of embarrassment on her cheeks. “We’re either playing twenty questions or you’re fucking me. We can’t do both.”

“Alright, all you had to do was ask.” He captured her lips with his. “Smartass.”

“Yeah,” she kissed him back, “But you love it.”

He chuckled. "Are you sure?" It quickly turned into a giggle, which made her bite back a moan. He was cute and it wasn’t supposed to turn her on but it did. “Here,” he hummed, reaching for the thigh on his right to rest straight against her chest, but he didn’t throw her entire leg over his shoulder, he just angled the limb impossibly high, still supported by his broad chest and hands as he pushed into her.

“Oh, fuck!” She threw her head back.

“Yeah, where did that smart mouth of yours go now, huh?”

She groaned, pulling at his hair. Their lips met. It was hot, tongue and teeth clashing, and she took his breath away.

He started with slow, deep strokes. The squishy walls of her pussy had a vice grip on him. He didn’t have much of a choice but to comply with what her body told him. She wanted faster and deeper, but not harder. Not this time. She wanted him as close as humanly possible, kissing his lips, and playing with his tongue. She tasted her juices on him still, the faint scent of the cum on his pants sending her into a space where she felt like an addict all over again.

“You feel so good.”

The blood rushed to her cheeks. Eliza moaned, feeling her muscles tighten around him. He sighed, this was perfection.

She arched her back and his hand found its way back to her throat. He didn’t choke her this time, he just made sure she didn’t injure herself. On the kitchen counter, that was a possibility he didn’t want to explore.

Her fingers pulled at his already messed-up hair as he bit down on her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone and sucking a purple mark into her soft skin. She still tasted like him. He moaned, the palm of his hand moving between them to rest over her lower stomach.

“You feel that?” he asked. He pushed down and she cried out, feeling his cock underneath her skin.

Her foot dug into his ass. His hips snapped against hers. Skin slapped against skin, low moans, and heavy breaths caused the windows to fog with condensation. His dress shirt was soaked with sweat, and hair fell into his face, and she pushed them back behind his ears.

Matt grabbed a fistful of her hair to yank her back. “You think you can take another one?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she choked out.

“C’mon. I’ve got you.” He took one of the hands from around his neck and slid it between them. "I want you to touch yourself."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"Use your hand. Touch yourself for me. You can do it."

"I don't know how..."

"Yes, you do." He helped to circle her fingers against her clit. His hand around her wrist eased after she found a rhythm that she enjoyed, and he pulled away to touch the rest of her. "There you go," he praised into her ear. “I can feel that you're getting close.”

Her head was spinning. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, she could only smell his skin, taste the sweat in the air and feel every last inch of his cock stretching her out in the most delicious of ways. Her fingers kept drawing circles on herself. It was almost enough to make her combust.

She whined, “I need more.”

He was biting at her earlobe then. “What do you need?” he cooed.

“More,” she said. Not getting the hint, he listened to the way her heart raced, analyzing the twitching of her muscles. She reached for the arm he kept around her, forcing his hand to her neck.

He hesitated, fingers only brushing the skin slightly. “You’re already bruised.”

“I don’t care,” her tone was firm.

Matt was fighting an internal battle. Of course, he wanted to, but he was scared. He didn’t want to hurt her. She wasn’t fragile. She was stronger than him, could heal faster than him, yet he couldn’t help but see her as fragile glass that could break at any moment, and he was scared of the day it might actually happen. He didn’t want it to be at his hand, though there was nothing he craved more than to feel her pulse jump beneath his fingers.

He let the Devil take over. His grip knocked the air out of her lungs in the most literal sense of the phrase. He squeezed tightly, cutting off her air supply for several seconds before releasing her neck. It was just what she needed. Her eyes rolled back into the back of her head and she was so close, she was whining and crying, but it felt too good, too real, and the lack of oxygen made her feel like she was on top of the world. It was like the perfect opioid high. She couldn’t feel a thing but him and the way her body struggled to keep up with the inhuman amount of pleasure that was unleashed on her. She didn’t need air when she had him. He could breathe for the both of them.

Her head rolled back, fingers stopping their movements on her clit. She enjoyed the feeling of his fingers around her throat. It was all she could focus on. She jolted when he pushed two fingers past her lips, allowing her to suck on them. They were gone way too fast, replacing her own on the sensitive skin between her legs, just above where his cock kept disappearing inside of her.

She was useless. Not a single thought to be uttered in her mind, no words, only obscene sounds that came strangled. She called him names and it was pathetic; it was so pathetic, she wanted to die, but at the same time, she had never wanted to live more. He owned her. He could have asked her all kinds of things and she would have done them, not even questioning his intentions. He had that kind of control over her mind and especially over her body. She was addicted now, there was no way of recovering from that.

“Look at me,” she heard him say. A soft command. She opened her eyes, exhausted, but she managed. “Good girl. Look me in the eyes, come on.” She blinked to meet the brown of his eyes. Heaven was only a footstep away.

“Can you cum for me?” he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Hm? Can you be good one last time?”

She nodded.

“Always so eager to please.” He chuckled, but he couldn’t hide the fact that this was affecting him as well. “Go on then. Make daddy proud.”

Her thighs locked around his hips. He just so caught her before she could split her head open on the counter. Her walls contracted around his cock. He held the back of her head, leaning over her, and the sweet sound of her moans into his ear was enough to send him over the finish line.

He came with a quiet shout of her name. The hot white of his cum coated her walls and she held him even tighter as he released everything he had to give inside of her, milking him for all he was worth.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Taking me so well. Fuck. Letting me fill you up. So good.”

“Fuck!” she felt him dripping out of her.

He rode out his high with slow, hard thrusts until he had given all he was capable of, and her walls were completely filled with his spend.

There was a moment of silence between them, only their uneven breathing filling the air. Their heartbeats aligned until they managed to calm down, still pressed close to each other, hugging over the kitchen counter.

He lifted himself on his forearm, smiling lazily down at her. “Hi,” he said.

She stroked his sweat-soaked brow. “Hi,” she replied.

He pulled out of her with a small whine. Slowly, as if trying not to hurt her, he used the hand behind her head to help her sit up straight. Her legs were shaking. She tried hard not to show him, but as soon as he unhooked himself from her, he caught the way her thighs vibrated on the kitchen counter. She couldn’t even press them together. It made him incredibly proud of himself.

Matt dipped his finger into the line of cum trickling down the inside of her thigh. She watched curiously as he moved back up. His eyes were dark, darker than usual, and his pupils were blown wide at what he was about to do.

Eliza choked on nothing when she felt him remove the necklace around her throat. The golden cross pressed into her thigh, covered in his released and partly her own. He traced it up her skin, leaving a sticky trail of cum behind. It pooled around the metal.

“God, forgive me,” he said.

He used two fingers to stuff the cross covered in his cum back inside of her, penetrating her already sensitive walls with his thick digits and the foreign object. She would never get it back, at least not for her to wear.

She choked out a broken moan. Her thighs shut. His bicep got trapped between them, fingers still buried inside. She tried to keep him there. She was so full, so warm, she needed him to stay. Her head fell back in absolute bliss.

Matt kept on slowly fucking his cum into her with the necklace and two thick fingers penetrating her, guiding the crucifix where it needed to be.

He pulled out to drag the tip over her clit. She sobbed. “Matt, this is not a good idea- Ah!” Her walls clenched around his finger.

“Are you-“ he raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sensitive, fuck!” He began to thrust his fingers faster, the cross cold against her clit. He moved it in circles, in awe at how fast he had her on the edge again. Her pulse was racing. She was the only thing left on his mind. “I bet you’re gonna cum again for me, aren’t you?” he said almost mockingly.

She nodded. “Fuck!” Her hips met the movements of his fingers. He wasn’t even completely inside of her, but the sight of the crucifix on her pussy and his fingers disappearing between the red walls of flesh, squelching with the wetness she released, was enough to build the inevitable orgasm.

He should have known this was going to happen.

“I think you’ll need to repent for that,” he whispered into her ear. “I think you might need to pray a whole lot of Hail Marys for what you’re doing right now. I think you should confess.” He pushed the necklace harder on her clit, starting to move in circles. “Do you know how to do that, hm?”

She gasped against his plump lips. “Yes.”

“Then do it!”

“Oh,” – he curled his fingers – “Fuck me, Father, for I have-“

“No,” he stopped his movements. “That’s not how it goes. I hope to God himself you’re not asking him to fuck you for your sins.”

“Jesus-“

“No, not him either. You know,” he began to pull out, “If you’re gonna be blasphemous, at least moan my name.“

Panic spread in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Matthew,” she said. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Then confess.” He started moving his fingers again.

“Fuck! Forgive me Father for I have sinned…”

Matt smirked. “That’s it, that’s my girl. What do you have to ask forgiveness for, baby?”

“For using the lord’s name in vain?”

“Yes. What else?”

“For… for not taking him seriously. Oh, fuck!” He brushed over her g-spot, “Right there.”

“That’s not what I’m waiting to hear,” he said, thumb joining the crucifix. “C’mon, say it. I know you want to.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” – this was turning her on so fucking much, she wanted to combust, but she knew better than to cum without his permission – “For tainting the lord’s name and putting shame on all of Christianity by fucking this… fuck! Stupid crucifix.”

“And do you like it?” He curled his fingers again to hit her sweet spot. She grabbed onto his shoulder. “Do you like having it on your clit, along with my fingers inside of you, curling up,“ he demonstrated, “just like that?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say you love it.”

“I-“ her eyes rolled back. “Fuck, yes!”

He clicked his tongue. “Ah, not what I was asking.”

She had her hand wrapped around his wrist, but he wouldn’t let her thrust against him. His body towered over her, locking her in place.

“Say it, sweetheart, or I’m compelled to stop. Do you love being fucked like this? Do you love to use God for your pleasure like the dirty little whore you are?”

“God, yes, I love it! I love it so much.”

“Dirty girl.” He leaned in to kiss her.

She desperately sought some friction, lifting her hips. “What’s my sentence, father?”

Oh, that makes so much more sense now. Matt growled. He removed the cross from her clit and shoved it back inside of her, listening intently to the sound it made twisting against the walls of her pussy. His thumb returned to rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cum,” was all he said.

She gushed all around his fingers and the crucifix, leaking onto the kitchen counter. He buried his head in her neck as she leaned against him, releasing the filthiest sounds directly in his ear.

Eliza whimpered when he didn’t stop pounding into her. He cut her off. “Shh. Just making sure you won’t forget me while I’m gone.”

Matt made use of her slack jaw, shoving the necklace back between her lips. The taste was almost too much to bear. When he took it back out, it was dripping with her saliva, still slightly white from the cum she hadn’t been able to lick from the edges.

He scoffed mockingly. “Would you look at that?”

“Oh,” she moaned, “We’re going to hell.”

“We all are.” He lowered his head to slip the necklace over. It left a wet patch from where it was now dangling around his throat, the pendant pressed to his chest with the slick. “Blasphemy has never smelled so fucking good.”

“Are you gonna tell your priest about this?”

“No,” he chuckled. “This is only for me to remember and I will now, every time I pray.”

Matt could smell her, he could taste her. Sweet, sweet torture he brought upon himself. By the time he finished getting dressed, Eliza had cleaned most of the mess they made. He followed her movements, sticky thighs, sweaty skin - she was perfect. The dress shirt was still dangling off her shoulders, torn apart, and the rest of her was completely bare to him.

She caught him staring from the door frame. “What?” self-consciousness laced her voice.

“Nothing,” he waved her off. Hands slipped underneath the dress shirt, grabbing her butt. “I was just thinking, maybe you should put on some clothes before Foggy comes over. Not that I can blame him for eye-fucking you, but it's not for him.”

“Not fond of sharing, are we?” she teased.

He chuckled. “Not really, no.” His hands released her butt, allowing her to find even footing again. “Especially not with Foggy.”

“Oh, anyone you would be comfortable with?"

"Well, there is this guy who wears Devil horns at night. He likes to enforce justice with his fists, puts bad guys behind bars. I heard he has a great butt, too.”

"Really?" she played along. "I don’t think I know a guy like that.”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“No.”

“He likes to wear red or something, I don’t know, I can’t see, but he’s been rumored to have put Wilson Fisk behind bars. He destroyed the Yakuza, did all of these super cool hero things… c’mon, you know him.”

“Hmm. Do you mean Daredevil?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"And you would share me with him?"

"Only him," he said.

"Hm,” – he caught her devilish grin with a frown – “so why is Foggy coming over again?”

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you. I put him on Eliza duty.”

She reached around him, over the waistband of his fresh slacks, and then smack!

“Hey!” Matt glared.

Eliza only sighed in relief. “I always wanted to do that.”

“You know, I thought you were gonna fix my tie.” He bit back the smirk threatening to form. “Since you pride yourself on being so good all the time.”

She only squeezed his ass again. There were no words in the existence of the English language to explain what it felt like. It was even better than looking at it. He had the perfect ass.

He broke out into laughter. “You done?” he asked.

“No.”

“You can feel my ass whenever you want, sweetheart. In fact, I encourage you to do so, but I really need to get going now.”

With one last smack, she released him. Her eyes narrowed down on his hip. “I’m coming back for you,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You’re a lost cause.”

Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck to fix his tie, like he originally wanted her to. “So, what’s Eliza duty?” she questioned.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself in trouble. So I called him,” he said, placing his signature red glasses on his nose, “Uh, he’s gonna walk you through all the files we have on Fisk and you can help him get on the same page we are, so things will be easier from here on. Once he knows everything, I mean.”

“Does he know what you’re planning to do now?”

“Not exactly.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was gonna pursue a lead, I just didn’t tell him where.”

“Oh, Matt.”

“Hey,” he said, “I’m gonna be fine.”

She breathed in his scent. He must have showered. “Please, be careful,” she said.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “See you later, bug.”

Bug.

“What did you just call me?”

But the door shut without an answer, and she was left pondering the one question that should have been answered before they did what they inevitably ended up doing; what did all of this even mean?

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #foreigner's god #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #matt murdock x female!oc #foggy nelson #karen page #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock imagines #marvel #angst #charlie cox #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic

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sofreddie · 2 years ago

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Hunter vs Hunter - Part 3

Summary: Now that they've got the Winchesters separated, the girls put their plan in motion.

Characters: Dean x F!Reader, Sam x OFC CeCe

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Language

WC: 1333

A/N: Part 3! Feedback is appreciated. : )

Part 1 / Part 2

Y/N entered the motel room, giving Dean a shy smile. As Dean passed her, she smiled at him again and did a quick check at her waistband under her shirt for her gun and handcuffs while his back was turned.

“I hope you like whiskey,” Dean chuckled, turning with a bottle and two glasses in his hands, “‘Cause that’s all we got.” He handed her a glass and poured some of the dark liquor into it. As he turned his back to her, moving to one of the chairs, she set her glass down, moving in for the attack.

She stepped up behind him, kicking in the back of his knee, causing him to buckle to the ground with a surprised yelp. Catching him off guard, she pulled the handcuffs from her waistband and reached for his left arm, managing to get the cuff to click on his wrist before he turned on her.

It took a second for his brain to catch up. He swung his arm back, managing to free himself from her hold and jump back before the other handcuff was attached.

“Whoa!” he barked, raising his hands as he now found a gun aimed at him, “Okay, that came out of nowhere! Who are you!?”

“FBI’s paying a pretty price for your head, Winchester,” she smirked, “Get on your knees and do this the easy way. I don’t wanna have to hurt you,” she warned, gun aimed at his chest.

Dean’s eyes went wide before they furrowed into a scowl as he relented and dropped to his knees, “So you’re both cops?” he spat.

She scoffed, approaching him slowly, gun barrel pressed against his shoulder as she moved behind him, reaching for his cuffed arm, “Fuck no,” she spat, “World’s finest bounty hunters, at your service. You should be honored, really,” she twisted his left arm behind him by the cuff and took a moment to evaluate the situation, “Move your right arm slowly behind your back,” she demanded in a firm tone.

“Look,” Dean tried to plead a case in desperation, “You don’t want to do this. I respect it’s your job, but stay the hell away from this one. You’ll be entering a whole new world of shit.”

“No shit,” she spat, pressing the barrel against him harder, “Serial killer psychopaths. I know your rap: grave desecrations, arson, murder. You and your brother are the worst kind of scum. And you happen to be my retirement. Arm. Now!” she tugged harder on his left arm, twisting forcefully to cause him pain.

“Would you believe me if I said it isn’t what it looks like?” Dean smirked, before sighing and deciding to move this along, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

With almost no effort, Dean simply stood, tugging his left arm free and swinging his arm fast to swipe the gun from Y/N's grasp.

She was momentarily caught off guard as he quickly stood, disarming her and dropping the clip from her gun, pushing the slide and popping out the last bullet in the chamber.

She smirked. It had been too long since she had a good fight.

She swung her right fist, connecting with his jaw, before going to kick his groin, but Dean swiftly caught her leg before she could connect.

He cursed under his breath, she was persistent and skilled. With her leg in his hold, he turned their bodies, causing her to collide with the wall. He quickly turned his back while Y/N was winded, running for the door and opening it before calling out, “Sam!”

Y/N cursed, sliding forward and grabbing the gun and clip from the ground, reloading and rushing out the door, seeing Dean sprinting across the lot towards her and CeCe's room.

“Don’t make me shoot you!” she yelled a warning, raising her gun and aiming at his back, “CeCe!” she yelled for her companion.

From the other room, Sam burst forth, shoes and overshirt gone, a wild look in his eyes as he held a gun in his hands, trying to take in what was going on.

There was no sign of CeCe, making Y/N curse and Dean chuckle.

“Maybe next time, Sweetheart,” he teased with a wink over his shoulder as the brothers quickly got closer to the black Impala.

Y/N watched as they climbed in the car hurriedly, the engine roaring to life, and she planted her feet, raising the gun and firing off several shots, one hitting the side of the car, the other shattering the rear passenger window as the car peeled off.

“God damnit!” Y/N growled, watching the car disappear before running to her motel room and scanning for CeCe.

“H-Hi there,” CeCe groaned from the bed, her hands cuffed to the frame, “He uh, he found my gun and, yeah-”

Y/N groaned, shutting the door behind her and heading to help her friend.

“What the fuck happened?!” Sam roared, running a hand through his hair as he waited for his adrenaline to calm down, “Who the fuck are those people?!”

“Bounty hunters,” Dean looked up at the rearview mirror to check they weren’t being followed for the fiftieth time, “Seems the feds aren’t quite done with us yet, and they’re fighting dirty.”

Sam sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing a few quick searches, “Most Wanted,” Sam scoffed before swallowing hard and looking at Dean, “A million a piece,” he added in awe.

“Damn,” Dean breathed out with wide eyes, before smirking, “Well, I mean that’s cheap. Should be at least five mils each.”

Sam rolled his eyes, his focus on his phone before he huffed a small laugh, reading what he found, “Y/N Y/L/N and Cecilia ‘CeCe’ Carter, featured as the ‘Elite’ of the bounty hunter world,” he scoffed, “Apparently they’ve made quite a name for themselves. When everyone else fails, they call them.”

“Seriously?” Dean scoffed in disbelief, “I mean, don’t get me wrong that Y/N could fight,” he bit his bottom lip before swiftly shaking back to reality, “But we got away kinda easily considering their reputation.”

“Probably because the reward is only given if we’re alive,” Sam said, still scrolling through his phone, “And I’m pretty sure they underestimated us as just some psychos.”

“Yeah well, their game is up now,” Dean sighed, “We keep our wits about us, we should be able to see them coming.”

“I still can’t believe you let him get the drop on you,” Y/N spat at CeCe.

After they had packed, they were back on the road in a flash, driving too fast in the truck as they bitched back and forth at one another.

“You’re supposed to be the professional and you ended up cuffed! To a bed, no less!”

“I got a little…lost in the moment…” CeCe smirked, “But seriously, for a big guy he is fast. The second he saw I had a gun and those cuffs- I wasn’t quite sure what hit me at first but he’s…he’s sneaky.”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, “We seriously underestimated them.”

“Guess that’ll explain the one mil each,” CeCe tutted before her eyes sparkled and she dashed for her computer.

“He barely flinched when I decked him,” Y/N growled to herself in frustration, “I think the bastard liked it,” she sighed heavily, “I’m shooting him next time. Non-lethal, shin, or something. But I’m shooting his ass for sure!”

“Well don’t worry, you hopefully won’t have to wait for long,” CeCe grinned from her laptop screen, “Boom! Got em!”

“What? How? Where?!” Y/N asked, looking over at CeCe before snapping her attention back to the road.

“Made a note of the plates,” CeCe winked, traffic cam footage of the Impala on the screen.

“So we know the direction they’re traveling, but not where they are?” Y/N grunted, “Find them!” she growled, slamming her hand against the steering wheel.

“Don’t go using that tone with me!” CeCe snapped, “We’ll find them! Then it’s one mil in the bank, sunshine, sand, and endless beer.”

PART 4

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

@jarpad24

@flamencodiva

@donnaintx

@writercole

@waynes-multiverse

#hunter vs hunter #dean x f!reader #sam x ofc cece #reader insert #ofc #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn

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tellywoodtrash · 4 years ago

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immj2 03.04.21 lb

aryan is literalllllllly the fuckin dumbest. zero peripheral vision or gut feels.

lmaoooooooooooo yeah right, i’d like to see you shoot at vansh bhai, aryan. i really wanna see this lololololol.

lo aa bhi gaya vansh. (fuck he looks good in this shirt!!!!!! damn my stupid hormones making me horny for the absolute baaaaaaaaare minimum.)

ANGREEEEEEEEEEEE ZINDA HAIIIIIIIIII BHAGWAAN KA LAAKH LAAKH SHUKAR, MAIN MAHA MRITYUNJAYA JAAP KARWAUNGIIIII ISKE NAAM PAR

vansh [seeing an obviously shot angre]: angre, kya hua???

samosa khaate waqt ketchup kandhe pe gira diya........... DIKH NAHI RAHA HAI KI GOLI LAGI HAI TERE CHUTIYE BHAI KI WAJAAH SE?!?!!?! ANGRE DESERVES SO MUCH MORE THAN A FUCKING RAISE, MY GOD.

plan ke hisaaaaaaaaaab se. god i hate all the men in this show so much. angre honestly, why are you suchhhhhh a chaaatu for vansh’s ootpataaang plans?!?!

anyway long story short, vansh saw aryan spying, went and replaced all of aryan’s bullets with blanks, and sent the sms about riddhima being alive. LMAO DOES THAT MEAN HE ALSO CONNED A COOL 2 CR. OUTTA ARYAN?!?!!?! ASDKSADJLASKDJLKASDJKAS GOOD JOB, VANSHHHHHHHH.

angre like why i had to die for this tho???? oh angre, you sweet summer child. do you know NOTHING about your bhaiyya/bhaabi’s amaaaaaaazing relationship????? you think he’d give up a chance to emotionally manipulate her like this????

how’d the dumbass finalllllllllllllllly figure this is real riddhima tho??? also he has fully made his peace with treating his PREGNANT WIFE this way huh????

ishani/siya having a girly convo about siya’s “date”. ishani’s like “was it sizzling, burning, sensational?”

uhhhhhhhhh siya, if you’re feeling all these things, you should go see a gynaec. sounds like an STI to me.

this is a very creepy convo ishani is leading, about how far siya got with vyom. who wants such specific sexual details from their sister????????

asalkdjlaskjdlaskjdlaskljk ishani is like “men are like goats [....] they’re dumb. and women are powerful.” can’t say i disagree.

anyway this convo is really dumb and cringey and i can’t take it anymore. inke bhaiyya ka chutiyaapa dikhao, instead of this nonsense.

angre is over the moon ki this is riddhima bhaabi itself, unaware that boss is fuming ki uska chutiya kat raha hai.

6 ghante 6 ghante 6 ghante blah blah blah FUCKING OUT WITH IT ALREADY

the only time i like vansh as a person is when he’s smirky over buddhu banaao-ing aryan.

idhar aryan ne aake chugli kar di sabke saamne.

yeh anupriya ka kya hi chakkar hai, idgi. is she fr on vansh’s side now??????

riddhima khud entry maaar rahi, to prove aryan right.

everyone except siya’s reactions are like ugh, this bitch again 😒😒😒

LMAO VANSH/ANGREEEEE LOST RIDDHIMA AND SHE REACHED HOME BY THEN

ouff 10 min of dadi’s mafia queen reactions nonsense now.

lo vansh bhi aa gaya.

ASALKJDLASJDLSKAJDLKSAJDLKSAJDLKSALDKJLAS DADI STANDING ON THE STAIRS PULLING THAT KHAANDANI RIFLE ON HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM LEGIT LOSING IT LMAO.

ALSO ISHAANI IS STANDING BEHIND DADI, FULLY FOR IT. BAGAAAWATTTT KII PYAARI BEHENAA NE!

riddhima trying to interfere to save vansh (why???), and dadi’s like STFU B.

lol vansh playing stone cold stupid, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

he’s spinning yarn after yarn ki “YEH riddhima hai, WOH jisko maara woh humshakal thi. MERA PYAAAAAAAR WOULD NEVER GIVE ANY OF US DHOKAAAAAAAAAAAA.” pftttttttt.

vansh breaking it down for the truuuuuuuuuuuuuly stupid, ki he shot a girl who had riddhima’s face, she was dead, aryan confirmed it. now there’s a riddhima standing in front of all of them. thus............???????

bechaara aryan. bachpan mein thode aur badaam khaata toh shaayad itna bewakoof nahi hota.

lollipop girl is nodding appreciatively at all this drama; she’s honestly the most relatable character here. if i was a houseguest here, main bhi roz roz mazze looot rahi hoti in chutiyon ka.

le aryan ne phir bandook taan di riddhima par, to get her to uglofy the truth. ab toh isko pakka maar padne waali hai. remains to be seen by whom. hoping it’s vansh as per usual, but i shall take dadi also.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA RIDDHIMA’S LIKE ARYAN HAD KIDNAPPED ME. OMFG LOLLIPOP LADKI’S EXPRESSION AT THAT. SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE WANTS TO BE ADOPTED BY VANSH/RIDDHIMA’S DEVIOUS ASSES.

anyway riddhima flipped the whole damn game and is like dadi, aryan wanted to make you distrust vansh and that’s why he did all this and lmaoooooooo even vansh is a little stunned for a second or two and then jumps in and starts haan mein haan milaao-ing with wifey’s story.

ARYAN LIKE HEIN HEIN HEIN HO KYA RAHA HAI YEH SAB?!!?!?!? HAAAYE BECHAARA. SO SO STUPID HE IS.

riddhima rubbing it in reallllllllll good in front of dadi ki aryan tried to killllllllll meeeeeeeee!!!!! and now aryan’s like bitch imma kill you both istg and got the gun on them.

LOLLIPOP LADKI’S AMAZING FACES LIKE GO ONNNNNNNNN, DOOOOOO ITTTTTTT, I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU DO IT, SIR. LMAO MAN I LOVE HER.

ASLKADJLAKSJDLASKJDLKSAJLDKJSLAKDJLAS DADI’S GOT HER GUN SET ON ARYAN NOW!!!!!!!!!!! honestly, this whole family is just so fucking dysfunctional, there needs to be a wholeass team of mental health specialists monitoring them and writing case reports about them at all times.

vansh trying to talk aryan down and got shot in the arm for it. pehli baar aryan ne zindagi mein kuch sahi kiya hai.

LOLLIPOP GIRL IS HORNY AT THAT ALSO. MAN SHE’S SUCH A WHORE FOR DRAMAAAAAAAAA AND I FULLY RELATE TO IT.

oh goddamnit. he didn’t get shot. coz aryan sucks at aiming, just like he does at everything else.

ASLKJFDSLKJFLSDKJFLDSKJFLKDSJ VANSH STALKED UP TO HIM AND WAS LIKE “TUMHARA NISHAANA HAMESHA SE HI KHARAAB THA” AND GAVE HIM ONE SOLID SOCK TO THE JAW FOR THAT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

someone make rrahul trim his damn beard, that thing is like a foot off his face. there must be whole ass beehives and civilizations inhabiting it.

aryan passing by dadi and is like you’re making a big mistake believing vansh/riddhima and their lying asses. and what did he get for that? one jhaapad from dadi also. lol. just not his dayyyyyyyyyyy, man.

LOLLIPOP GIRL’S SMIRKING AND HAS HER ARMS CROSSED AND I LEGIT ONLY CARE FOR HER REACTION SHOTS IN THIS SHOW NOW, LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE.

oh shit dadi is throwing aryan out the house. does he have anyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy skills to fend for himself outside this place? he’s gonna die in like 15 minutes.

dadi warning vansh ki if aryan’s baat sahi nikli, she gonna murder his and riddhima’s asses too. hey vansh??? now would be a good time to take your 5000 cr. and fuck off outta this crazy house rn.

riddhima can’t stop reliving angre’s death.

vansh’s here and just sooooooooooo cool about it. shouldn’t that tip her off?!?!?!?!

she’s like BITCH WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PSYCHOPATH, YOUR BEST FRIEND IS DEAD AND YOU’RE LIKE MEH????? HE DIED FOR YOU.

ohohohohohohoho ofc, he’s like he didn’t die for ME, he died for YOU. you and your dhoka are why he’s dead. today angre’s dead, tomorrow it’ll be me. waaaaaaaaaaah bhai. amazingggggggggg manipulation only. you should write papers and give TED talks about it, that’s how much of an expert you are at this.

do not tellllllllllllllllllllllllllll me she falls for this shit. pls god do not.

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HER BRAIN FINALLY WORKED!!!!!!!!!!! SHE’S LIKE IF ARYAN’S SUCHHHHHHHHHHH A POOR SHOT THAT HE COULDN’T HIT YOU WHEN YOU WERE LIKE 5 FEET AWAY FROM HIM, HOW TF DID HE GET ANGRE RIGHT IN THE FUCKING HEART FROM SO FAR AWAY?????????? YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SIS, THIS THE KINDA SHIT I’VE BEEN WANTING TO SEE FROM YOU FOR AGES NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

lol vansh is really pushing on the 6 ghante thing and she’s like ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, i get it now.

toh ofc he has to resort to sexy fuckery and pulls her under the shower to seduce it outta her.

riddhima don’t think with her pussy no more. she’s like you want the truth????/ i gotta confirm some shit first. took the gun (which he’d taken from aryan earlier) and left.

yup she went outside and found a blood ka packet. lolllllllllllllllllll vansh ki khairrrrrrrrrrrr nahi ab.

sopping wet saiyyaan is like what youuuuuuuu doing??? and she pulled the gun on him. bwahahahahaha. sis not so much of an idiot anymore.

LMAO SHE SHOT AT HIMMMMMM AND HE CAN’T BELIEVE IT. I LOVE ITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT.

she’s like bitch you and your lies and your dhokasssssssssss.

oh dang she fully called out his game, from sending aryan to manipulating her into being guilty for angre’s death. MANNNNNNNN, WHY DIDN’T WE HAVE THIS RIDDHIMA FROM THE FUCKING START????????????

oh now he’s gaslighting her about the dhoka. he’s got some nerve. i swear to god he’s asking to be shot for reals.

she’s like you know what, i woulda told you, but now, after all this fuckery, imma take it to the grave. bwahahahahahhahaha, i love it. exactly what my petty ass would do.

challenge challenge challenge and tashan waala walk-off. lol, what’s the point, tum dono ko jaana toh ek hi kamre mein hai.

ishani’s freaking the fuck out at angre’s haalat. oh damn. she really does love him!!!!

angre’s all mehhh, it’s part of the job, and OMG YES ISHANI IS LOSING HER SHIT AT VANSH BHAI’S CONSTANT CONTROL OF THEIR LIVES!!!!! FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“tum pehle mere husband ho, phir unke bodyguard!!!!!!!! HE HAS TO UNDERSTAND HIS LIMITS!!!!!!” OMGGG YESSSSSSSSSSS QUEEEEEEEENNNNNN BURN IT ALL TO THE GROUND. LEAVE THIS HOUSE WITH YOUR BOY AND NEVER LOOK BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

idhar riddhima and vansh seem to have made up???? she’s waking him up cheekily, and he’s all “good morning to youuuuu too, my love. 😏😏😏” they fucked in the night, for sho.

he’s like is this love or repentence for yest? and she’s like bitch tf i got to repent for????

lmao the way she’s staring at him as he drinks his coffee makes me think she’s poisoned it. or spat in it, at the very least.

standard pulling and falling and sexy stuff. lol these two are so dysfunctional. constantly trying to sex the other into submission. at least it’s more equal now, than just him making all the moves.

yeah, she’s doing all this shit to protect him from some shit FOR SURE. ugh yaaaaar. oh well, at least she got some chracter development outta it.

lol he got mad at her for not melting at his do takke ka seduction. son, you thought a bloody forehead kiss was enough? we’re not saying SHIT for less than 3 orgasms.

riddhima cooolyyyy regarding jeeta-jaata chalta-phirta angre, who thankfully has some sharam for his actions.

she’s like don’t worry, i’m not mad at you, i know vansh put you up to it; and he’s like yeah you know i have zero self respect when it comes to vansh bhai. he says jump, i ask how high.

and she’s like you’re your own person dude. and i hope you’ll one day realize that and do what you think is right, not just what vansh tells you to. DUDE I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY DIDN’T GIVE US THIS RIDDHIMA TILL NOW.

asdkljlaskjdlaskjdlaskjdlaksjdlkasj vansh speaking chinese was really not necessary but....... lol ok.

wtf even is this black box, dude?????? like.............. you know what, idec anymore. nothing in this show is worth wasting brain cells over.

snort, vansh assures his shady business friends that the black box is in safe hands, and instantly riddhima comes and picks it up from the table.

some sultry talk about love and war as they keep taking the box from each other. lol man you’re both so fucking lame.

anyway he put it in the safe and is being patronizing to her, and she’s like be careful at how you play this........ “kahin meri dukhti ragg pe haath na lag jaaye....” OH DAMN. DUDE. I THINK SHE’S LOST THE BABY OR SOMETHING. IT HAS TO BE SOMETHING THAT’S HURT HER MASSIVELY TO BRING ABOUT SUCH A DRASTIC CHANGE (OTHER THAN THE SHOW MOVING FROM TV TO ONLINE)

asldkjsaldjlskadjlksadjlksajd she’s threatening to tell dadi that he played this whole farce in front of her and he’s like U WOT MATEEEE

anyway both of them smilingly fucking each other up about 6 ghante ka raaz and how the other one will lose. man, y’all need SO MUCH THERAPY.

riddhima’s here talking to stupid shunya fucker; and he’s just laughing and talking about his stupid saxophone.

he’s all only the two of us know about this deal we have, no one else in the worldddddddddd knows......

and she’s like actually................................. there’s a third person.

cut to: MY DIL JAAN JIGAR KA TUDKA KABIR, STILL IN CHAINS, SCREAMING RIDDHIMA’S NAME, AND GROWLING ABOUT HOW VANSH WILL KILL HER WHEN HE FINDS OUT HER SECRET.

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. why did she have to tell vyom that kabir knows? now vyom’s gonna try and kill kabir for sure and i want the reverse to happen!!!!!!!! please god gimme some #kava love where vansh saves kabir from vyom to make up for that one time kabir saved his life from chang!!!!!! i just want my two boys together!!!!!!!!!

precap: same old chutiyapa. vansh got her fingerprints off a glass to open her phone; she tries to steal the black box from his secret room and he catches her. abbe yaaaaaaaaaaaaar.

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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to-pick-ourselves-up-7 · 4 years ago

Text

The Marks of Running Ink pt.86

The Walking Dead [Soulmate AU]

Pairing: Negan x Tory Miller (ofc)

Summary: History had never been wrong about the lengths human beings would go for survival, for pride, for love… Tory Miller never thought she would see it unfold with her own eyes, not after the end of an era, but she could understand. Now, their war was being fought in all fronts. Negan’s was for pride, Rick’s was for survival, both of them were unstoppable forces. And her war? Tory’s war was for love.

Warnings: SLOW BURN, angst, swearing, death, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, child endangerment, general trauma, drama, mentions of infidelity and polygamy, general lack or morals, mentions of nudity, graphic sexual scenes (nsfw), mentions of blood, apocalyptic world. As always, I don’t want to give the story away in the tags, read at your own risk.

Author’s note: We're supper close to the end. This story will have those 90 chapters, give or take, but most likely. I imagined this chapter for years, most of it was written for the better part of a year and it looks nothing like I planned it. I still hope y'all like it.

(gif credit)

••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••

War,

The Hilltop, VA.

Tory wondered; as she sat out of the medical trailer, why she loved medicine so much. It was a bloody business; and she had seen more than her fair share of blood in such a short amount of time. Her hands were sticky with Negan’s blood, she’d preferred not to wash them just yet.

It was for impact, not because she wanted to be all sticky and dirty.

But Tory had more important matters to worry about, like being watched. Not that she cared about being watched, much less by Daryl.

It was the principle of the matter.

“Don’t you feel ashamed?” he asked.

“What for?” Tory asked, humoring him.

“Being on the side of that piece o’shit.” He spat. Well, he’d gotten that right.

Tory shrugged. “I’m sorry Daryl, but I don’t owe anyone an explanation of what I did to survive.” He was about to say something else when Rick came out of the medical trailer.

“He will live.” He said.

Is not that Tory didn’t know that, nor that she’d been let to do anything.

Rick gave Tory a long look, it wasn’t a glare, he was just looking at her; she looked at him straight in the eye.

“You’re lettin’ that asshole live, Rick? For real?” Daryl asked, breaking the silent battle of stares between Rick and Tory. “After what he did?”

“He’s gotta be an example, Daryl.” Rick answered, sounding tired.

Tory didn’t say anything as Daryl cursed and walked away from them, strutting as if he’d been offended. Well, he probably was; Negan did have him tortured, didn’t he?

Rick Grimes turned his ice blue eyes back on her.

“Did Negan hurt you?”

There were many ways to answer that question, if she was sincere about it, but that wouldn’t work with Rick. He’d tried to kill her soulmate, she’d seen it.

“Yes, and no.” she said after a few moments.

“Is it true? What you said to him?”

The baby.

Her little Peanut.

She’d spilled because she’d thought Negan was going to die; she was still wearing his blood as proof of it.

“That’s none of your business, Rick.” Tory stated.

“You’re from Alexandria an-”

“Spare me that crap, you don’t care.” Tory was so angry at him, seething with contained rage. “You tried to kill my soulmate.”

“He killed Glenn, he killed Abraham.” Rick growled.

“What did you expect after killing a bunch of his people and causing the death of his girlfriend?” Tory asked, remembering the little graves at Doveport; she didn’t take the time to explain anything to him. “The people you killed at that outpost, Rick? Because you didn’t think to ask and find out? They had families, children, wives.”

Rick seemed taken aback at her vehement defense of the Saviors.

“They are bad people.”

“There were some, yes, but we were no better, honestly.” Tory rebuked. “You escalated the conflict, Rick, everything that has happened since? Those are the consequences. Spencer? Me? We told you.”

Rick blushed. “It changes nothing, what he did to the people under him-”

“Have you ever lived there?” Tory asked, her voice cold and unforgiving. “I did. It could be way worse, Rick…” there was a little pause as he glared. “You made it so.”

“I didn-” he started and Tory shook her head.

“Save that bullshit excuse that it’s about to come out of your mouth, I do know what happened.” Tory said. She felt so tired. “Can I see him?”

“No.” he cut.

Tory nodded.

“Okay, then. I’ve got nothing to do here.” she turned away, ready to find her way to Doveport, on foot if it was necessary.

“You don’t have to leave, where are you going to go?” Rick asked.

Tory shrugged. “Home.”

“Alexandria is not…” Rick trailed off.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Rick shook his head in disbelief. “Then where? The Sanctuary is not safe now.”

Tory thought about Martha, who knew so much and was so very ready to take charge.

“It’s safer there for me than here. Maggie won’t let this go, Rick, Negan is not available and I’m the next best thing.”

“She wouldn’t hurt you,” he jumped.

“She’s hurt, she’s angry. I want to hurt you right now, so I know what is going through her mind.” Tory rubbed her arms, trying to give herself some heat. Despite the heat of the day, she felt nothing but cold. “I hope you sleep well.”

••• ••• •••

Henry had waited up until Victoria had come back from wherever she’d gone with her savior friend.

He’d felt a weight on his stomach when she’d come back, her clothes stained with blood, as well as her hands. She’d gone past the little nurse office-slash-hospital and straight to the showers.

Tory had her back turned to him as water fell on her back; she looked so small, a bit hunched as she sniffled a bit.

“Are you going to watch from there all night, Rhodes?”

“I’ll get wet.” He said, trying to gauge her reaction.

Tory nodded, her back shook.

Fuck getting wet. Henry walked up to Tory and hugged her to him.

“He almost died. I’ve…I’m so tired.” She sobbed.

Henry kissed her temple. “Come on, finish your shower, you need to rest.”

When they laid on Tory’s bed, later that night, Henry let her snuggle up to him. He decided then and there that he did not like Rick Grimes, and was happy that Tory was back where he could protect her, but he also knew it wouldn’t last.

She would go back out there, and she would fight for the other half of her.

That was the real Tory, the real steel under the suffering and the fragility.

Henry hardly ever envied people, but he envied this Negan fellow.

••• ••• •••

Carl was sitting by the little garden, enjoying the sun and watching the people of Doveport work.

They mostly stayed away from him, except for Addison, Doctor Rhodes and Tory herself, even Charlotte was not completely comfortable around Carl. It was stupid, keeping away from Carl, that is; he was a damn brilliant kid and also needed contact with the society he was involved in at the moment.

Not that it would last long, but Tory had plans.

“Are you gonna say something?” Carl asked, finally turning to look her way.

Tory smiled, completely caught by him. “I am, and you might not like it.”

Carl Grimes made a non-committal noise and gestured the seat at his side, inviting her in. She sat at his side, watching the people of Doveport just like him.

“What happened…yesterday when you left?”

Tory closed her eyes. She could see it in her mind’s eye, the blood, the slit in Negan’s throat at she tired to apply pressure, his gurgling breathing.

“Your dad slit Negan’s throat.” She whispered, not wanting anyone from the community to hear her.

Carl frowned. “Is he…?”

She shook her head. “Siddiq saved him.” Tory’s eyes fell to her hands, they were clean now, but she could still feel the stickiness of the blood, the warmth, she could almost feel the red.

“Why are you telling me this?” Carl asked, his one eye fixed on her.

“Because I want you to help me.” Tory licked her lips, a custom she’d recently acquired to hide her anxiety. “I want to be able to have contact with Negan, but I fear your dad will try to stop event that.”

“If he’s made his mind up then-” she lifted her hand to stop him.

“Your dad doesn’t know you’re alive.” She said.

Carl paled. “You want to blackmail him…with me?”

“I do feel shame for even thinking about it, but I have to think about my family Carl, I’m having a baby and I want them to know their dad.” Tears gathered in her eyes and started to fall. “I know what it feels like, not having a dad. I don’t want that for my child, even if I’m just co-parenting.”

“So, you’re having Negan’s baby, not one of his wives?”

Tory nodded. “You knew about that?”

Carl answered back her nod with his own. “I heard things the one time I went to the Sanctuary.”

Tory smiled and nodded. “Yup, I though I’d never have a baby, turns out Negan was my ace card.”

“I do not need to know that shit, Tory.” Carl said, disgust dripping from his voice.

“Oh, so you’re never going to screw Enid and have babies with her?”

“Not before we’re thirty.” Carl said.

Tory laughed. “Try that in a world without condoms, honey.”

••• ••• •••

Lucas was waiting for them outside of Doveport.

He waved at Carl and hugged Tory, showing them the car that they’d used the previous day.

“You got what I asked for?” she asked.

Lucas showed her the pair of walkies and Tory smiled, right before giving one to Carl.

The boy looked dubious, but Tory was not going to let him walk away from their deal, not after she concocted a credible story for the whole letter drama Carl had made.

“Take us as close as you can to the Hilltop, then stay with Carl until I call you, okay?” Tory asked. Her friend shrugged.

“Just don’t get fucking killed, okay?”

“I don’t think I will.”

••• ••• •••

Rick didn’t expect Tory to be back at all, after the way she had left the day before. She seemed calmer this morning as well.

She waited for him outside of the medical trailer and he wondered what she was planning. Rick used to like her, despite how stubborn she was, but Tory Miller had changed in the few month she had been away from Alexandria.

He had sincerely forgot about her existence.

Yes, she had been working with the previous doctor that Alexandria had for a long while, but once the girl was gone, after her dad had died, no one ever bothered much with her, and Rick forgot.

Things had gotten out of hand.

“I have a deal for you, Rick Grimes.” She said, looking at him, her grey eyes glacially cold.

“There can’t be a deal about Negan. He needs to be punished.” He growled.

She smirked at him and sighed, looking behind him.

“I’m not saying that you have to let him be free, he needs the hit to his ego, he needs the punishment.” The Miller girl said. “He needs to repent, but I refuse to let you do it your way only. I have a family to think about, Rick.”

Rick scoffed. “Your kid can do much better than having Negan for a dad.”

“Sure they can, but it’s me who doesn’t want to do that shit. It doesn’t work for everyone.” Tory sighed and leaned against the bark of a tree and Rick scowled.

“What can you even offer?”

There was something scary, when Tory looked up from the ground, one eyebrow up, it was unsettling as she reached for something on her side. Rick almost went for his gun when he noticed the antenna.

It was a walkie talkie.

“I can give you back your son.” She said softly.

Images of Carl flashed behind his eyes as he swallowed hard.

“You know where his body is?”

Tory tilted her head. “I want something in exchange for the information that I will give you Rick, I’m good at keeping secrets, you know?”

He didn’t.

He hardly cared about what she did once it didn’t bother him. Rick hadn’t expected to find a person who would defy him like that, much less at this point.

“What do you want?” he growled reluctantly.

“I want access to Negan.” Tory said. “I’m his soulmate and whether I want it or not, I need him.”

“Absolutely not.” He spat.

“Okay, then I want to go back home, Alexandria.”

“You can’t be trusted with this, Tory.” He said.

“You’re giving me nothing and I will give you back peace, Rick, how much would you pay for peace? I’m not asking you to free Negan, just to let me see him once in a while. I’m having his child.”

“You can have access to Negan, but he can’t know about your child.”

Tory bit her lip as her eyes shone with tears. She looked at the ground and shuffled on her feet. Damn, she was young.

A part of him felt guilty.

“I’ll take it. And I get back my dad’s house in Alexandria. For me and my child.”

Rick nodded.

Tory offered him his hand.

He stretched his arm and they shook their hands.

“Where’s Carl body?”

Tory turned the walkie on. “He agreed, Luc.” She said, her voice shaky.

“Okay, Cali.” Came the other voice, once Rick didn’t know.

The walkie fell silent for a moment and then…

“Dad?”

Rick’ felt weak at the knees and Tory’s eyes widened when he felt to his knees, his throat felt like a knot had been tied as he tried to breathe, sob, make one noise.

“Dad?” came Carl’s voice again.

Tory seemed worried at his reaction as he grabbed the little device with shaky hands and she let go.

“Carl?” he finally wheezed, between a sob and a cry.

“Hey, Dad.”

••• ••• •••

Tory sat by the door as Michonne, Rick and Siddiq talked to Negan.

For her, all of their words were shit.

Their whole world was built upon blood, ashes and death.

It was impossible to expect they would all bury the bad blood there was between their groups by holding onto having Negan be a prisoner. Tory knew, because he was a symbol, he had a system, even if she didn’t agree with it.

It would all eventually crumble and she would have to be there to see it.

“We’re not gonna hurt you. We’re not gonna kill you. You’re going to rot in a cell.” Rick said, growled…rasped. Tory bit her lip harder.

“The rest of your life, day after day.” Michonne continued.

“You’re going to be evidence that we’re building a civilization, something like what we had, something we’re gonna get back.”

Tory thought back to everyone she’d lost, even before the world went to hell. Her grandparents, her mother, Peyton, Henry, Spencer, her dad. They would never get the people back, they would never get back to the normal from before, no matter what.

It was stupid, all of it.

“And you get to watch it happen, you get to see how wrong you were about what people can be, about what life can be.”

“You alive? It’s gonna show people that things have changed, that keeping you breathing earns another way, a better way.”

Tory though about Lucas clever eviscerations of character, he had worked in a law firm, hadn’t he? He’d have smelled the bullshit from a mile away.

And Rick Grimes was full of it.

“So, after all this, maybe you’re good for something.” Michonne said.

Tory felt her little one kick.

They had no idea.

••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••

End of Book Three, part two.

#negan #negan fic #negan angst #negan soulmate #twd fic #the walking dead fic #negans-network #negan x tory #the marks of running ink #my writing #part 86

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ghostofviperwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Unexpected

Title: Unexpected

Pairing: Seth Rollins/DeanAmbrose/OFC (no slash)

Type: Smut

Due to a last minute change in plans on Raw, Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns found themselves with an unexpected night off. As they were less than an hour from the home Seth shared with his longtime girlfriend the trio decided to head there to spend the night and head for the next town in the morning. Of course, Seth didn’t think to advise his girl of this change of plans, resulting in one very pissed off girlfriend.

“Jesus Seth! You about gave me a heart attack!” You yelled glaring at him and his two friends, all of whom looked entirely unrepentant. With a huff of frustration you turned your back on them storming off towards the master bedroom.

Seth followed you around the corner, eyes firmly planted on your ass showcased to perfection in the little spandex shorts you were sporting. Roman and Dean split off towards the kitchen, quite comfortable in what was practically their second home. With his strides much longer than yours, Seth overtook you just inside the bedroom door, grabbing you and pushing you against the wall next to the doorway.

“Knock it off Seth. I’m not in the mood for your shit.” You spat pushing against his chest with the palms of your hands.

“C’mon Y/N, why you being such a bitch?” he teased leaning forward to nip the side of your neck earning a growl of frustration from you. His hand snaked up to run his fingers along your silky hair making you yank your head away from his roaming fingers.

“What? You think you can just waltz in the house unannounced and scare the shit out of me and then just come rubbin’ up on me?” You asked sarcastically. Seth’s smirk said that was exactly what he thought leaning forward to capture your plump pink lips in a passionate kiss only to have his bottom lip caught by your sharp teeth. Pain rocketed through his lip as Seth pulled away from you with a snarl.

You quickly found yourself pinned to the wall with Seth’s hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Gone was the playful man of moments ago, a fierce fire burning in his almost black eyes as his lip turned up in a sneer.

“Is that how we’re going to play Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and gravely. You glared back at him meeting his fierce stare with your own. “I have a shit day at work and just want to come home and fuck my girl and I gotta get attitude?”

“How ‘bout a phone call Seth?” You said. “It’s not that hard. Send me a fucking text. Something.”

“It’s my fucking house I don’t have to announce when I’m coming home.” Seth snarled. “What’s the matter Y/N, expecting someone else? Am I interrupting your plans?” His hand tightened minutely on your throat. He didn’t believe his words for a second, he was just getting into the moment, fueling the fire between them.

“I should.” You gasped back with a smirk. “Find someone to fuck me properly.” Your grin widened when his fist again clenched involuntarily. You loved provoking these reactions from him.

“Aww poor baby. Are you not getting fucked good enough?” Seth murmured pulling you from the wall by the throat and tossing you haphazardly on the bed.

“Why don’t you go play with your friends?” You said sitting up and stroking your hands down your body. “I’ve got more than enough experience in taking care of myself. I’m very good at it.” Seth’s eyes darkened as he followed the path of your hands as they skimmed over your breasts, teasing your pierced nipples through the sports bra you wore and down your stomach, coming to a rest between your legs, index finger stroking along the noticeably wet patch on your shorts.

“Stop.” He commanded. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.” You arched a taunting eyebrow as you slowly and deliberately slid your hand into the shorts, eyes closing as pleasure coursed through you. Before you could do much, your wrist’s progress was stopped by Seth’s vice like grip. Your eyes flew open meeting Seth’s furious gaze. You whimpered as he pulled your hand out and yanked hard, flipping you onto your stomach and wrenching the hand behind your back. You struggled making Seth press his knee into the small of your back to keep you still as he removed his leather belt from his pants. Despite your best efforts you soon found your hands bound behind your back by the belt. Seth tugged you up by the hips, keeping your face down on the mattress and ass up in the air.

“You know better than to push me Y/N.” Seth said kneeling down on the side of the bed to look you in the face. Seeing the fire still burning in your eyes he shook his head ruefully, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips.

“Fuck you Seth!” You spat managing to sound indignant even in your undignified position. Seth gave a disappointed shake of his head before rising to his feet. You tried to watch his moves as he moved to the foot of the bed. With one swift movement your shorts were stripped and tossed over his shoulder leaving your ass exposed to his view.

Smack! You yelped as his hand smacked your ass with a loud thwack. Seth paused expectantly for a second before landing another blow. Another whimper escaped you as Seth again paused before shaking his head in disappointment and issuing a third smack, the hardest yet.

“Did you forget how this works honey?” he asked snidely when he still received no response. “I spank you, you count and thank me.” You groaned in irritation for having forgotten that rule. You started to apologize, but your inner minx stopped you. You were in a mood tonight and were going to push Seth’s buttons as much as you could. See what he would do.

“Go to hell.” You bit out. You screamed as his hand slapped down brutally, almost making you collapse from the force. You missed the small grin that appeared on Seth’s face at her words. He loved it when she got feisty. This continued for a few more minutes, Seth continually swatting your behind as you refused to give him the satisfaction of the response he wanted.

“Hey man, you mind if…Shit! Man, sorry!” Dean said appearing in the doorway. He quickly covered his eyes after he got a full view of Ariana’s upturned ass and pussy. “I did not know your door was open.” You tensed at the man’s voice face heating up in embarrassment at what he must have seen. As you thought of Dean walking in and seeing your hand print covered ass you squeezed your thighs together as a rush of pleasure surged through you, a reaction Seth definitely noticed.

“Hold up Dean.” Seth called to his friend who was trying to make a quick exit. “Don’t worry about it. We don’t mind, do we Y/N?” he asked grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a squeeze.

“No.. no.” You stuttered hesitantly. You weren’t adverse to Dean seeing you like this, but it was humiliating as hell. And Seth knew that was one of your biggest turn ons and had a feeling he was going to exploit that right now if he could get Dean to cooperate. You were nervous, but nowhere near the level of using your safe word. Being honest you were extremely curious where Seth was going with this.

“Don’t she look good Dean?” Seth asked smirking as his friend kept his eyes firmly covered. “You can look Dean. I swear I’m not going to be mad.” Dean slowly lowered his hand glancing at Seth for confirmation, needing to make sure his friend was really inviting him to check out his girlfriend. At Seth’s nod Dean turned his attention to you. He could honestly say he had never thought he would see you like this. Not that he didn’t want to, because the girl was gorgeous. He knew you and Seth were into some kinky shit, having been regaled with tales from Seth over the past few years.

“What do you think?” Seth asked moving to stand next to Dean as he ran his appraising glance over you.

“She looks fucking good.” Dean admitted feeling his dick hardening in his pants. “Real good.”

“Yeah she does.” Seth agreed. “She’s a fucking bitch though.”

Dean chuckled. “So you’ve said. Guess I better let you get back to setting her straight.” He said once again moving to leave.

“You can watch if you want.” Seth offered smirking as Dean froze in place. Seth’s eyes flickered to Y/N who shifted uncomfortably but didn’t offer any protest. He again noticed you squeezing your thighs together a telltale sign of your arousal.

“You sure?” Dean asked Seth, turning back into the room.

“Absolutely. Why don’t you take a seat in that chair over there?” Seth pointed. “It’ll give you a great view. Dean made himself comfortable in the chair situated in the corner of the room. He adjusted his growing erection taking in the view. The chair was positioned along the side of the bed so he was looking right at your flushed face pressed into the comforter.

“Now Y/N, you have an audience. Don’t embarrass me.” Seth said resuming his position at the foot of the bed. “Show Dean you know how to be a good girl.”

Seth released a solid slap onto her firm cheek, lips tightening minutely when you didn’t immediately count. Finally as he raised his hand to deliver another blow you spat out “One. Thank you, sir.”

The process continued, Seth growing irritated as you waited to the last second on every spank to count. With a huff of frustration Seth stepped back from the bed, quickly removing his pants and boxer shorts before moving to stand on the side of the bed opposite to where Dean was sitting.

“Turn to me.” Seth commanded. “Keep your ass up, give Dean a nice view of that pretty pussy of yours.” You struggled to get into the demanded position with your hands bound behind your back, acutely aware that Dean now had a direct view of your ass and pussy. He was surely going to be able to see just how wet you were. Seth grabbed a handful of hair holding your upper body in position as he placed his cock at your lips.

“Just the tip.” He told you. You obediently opened your lips, sucking his mushroom tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue along his slit. Seth tightened his grip in your hair as you hummed around him, the vibrations shooting down his shaft.

“Now all of it. Show Dean what a good little cocksucker you are.” Seth said glancing up to see his friend palming himself through his jeans. Seemed like Dean was enjoying the show. As you progressed to Seth roughly fucking your throat, the sounds of your gags filled the room as tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled to get breath as Seth abused your throat. You couldn’t even steady yourself with your hands bound, leaving you completely at Seth’s mercy, of which he was showing you none.

Eventually Dean unzipped his pants, pulling his throbbing cock out and stroking it as he watched Seth violate his girlfriend. His eyes focused on your pussy as he stroked his length. Every time Seth pulled you lower on his dick your pussy spread open giving Dean a peek of the silver bar pierced through your clit. With a satisfied sigh Seth pulled out of your mouth with a grin.

“Now sweetheart, this is normally the part where I would bury my face in your sweet cunt and make you scream.” Seth said with a chuckle. “But since you decided to be such a bitch I don’t think I’m going to let you come.” You made a distressed sound of protest. You were already so damn worked up just from sucking Seth’s cock and knowing Dean was watching you.

Seth reached behind you, undoing the belt binding and you quickly moved her arms to the front shaking them out and rubbing your wrists before turning to Seth and pouting your lower lip out.

“Please Seth?” You tried making your eyes wide and pleading.

“No.” he said firmly. “You damn sure haven’t earned the right to an orgasm. You couldn’t even take your punishment properly.”

“You can’t stop me.” You said hotly before you thought better of it.

“The hell I can’t.” Seth responded. You shrunk back when he climbed onto the bed, stalking you until you crashed into the headboard.

“Where you gonna go now?” he taunted trapping you between his arms. You shrieked in surprise when he grabbed you by the thighs pulling you down to lay flat underneath him. Seth shoved his cock into you, gliding in easily as you were soaked. It didn’t take long for you to be gasping and pleading under him as he masterfully brought you to the brink of orgasm only to deny you. From his chair Dean watched the interplay stroking and twisting his dick coming with a grunt just before Seth came with a final thrust leaving you aching for more.

“Look what you did to Dean” Seth said to you as he glanced over, seeing his friend with his head back in the chair, eyes closed, his hand and cock covered with come. Dean opened his startling blue eyes and gave a lazy shrug, the corner of his lip turning up in a smirk. “What? That was hot as fuck.” He said. “You got a towel I can clean myself off with?” he asked.

Seth nodded absently his gaze finding you on the bed, body still flushed with arousal.

“I’ve got something better.” Seth suddenly said. “Y/N, go clean Dean up.” He ordered smiling as he heard your shocked gasp. Glancing at Dean he saw the man’s eyes were widened in surprise, but clear want was on his face.

“Wha…what?” You stuttered eyes darting to Dean and then back to Seth.

“You heard me. Dean made a mess because of you. You need to clean it up.” He repeated. “You have five seconds to be on your knees for him.” You darted across the bed as Seth began counting falling to your knees in between Dean’s legs. A pretty red blush spread across your face as you knelt, your pussy throbbing in arousal. You reached out hesitantly grabbing Deans wrist and pulling it towards your mouth, your eyes drawn to the thick come coating Dean’s fingers.

Your tongue darted out, swiping along Dean’s thumb to catch the liquid. At Dean’s encouraging moan you sucked his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit ensuring you got every drop of come off of him.

“Eye contact Y/N.” Seth told you, taking a seat on the bed and idly stroking his cock as he watched. He was glad he didn’t feel an iota of jealousy at the sight of you pleasing Dean, something which surprised him. He usually hated men even flirting with you, but he was quite content to sit back and watch.

Your eyes raised to meet Dean’s gaze as you sucked his index finger into your mouth. Dean groaned as you twirled your tongue around before popping the finger out and giving it a long sensuous lick. Your tongue bathed his hand, stroking over his knuckles until every last trace of come was cleaned off. With a deep breath your eyes dropped from Dean’s face, darting to look at his semi hard cock, which was glistening with come.

“You gonna suck my cock clean for me doll?” Dean spoke his first words to you since this all started. “Wrap those pretty lips around my dick while your boyfriend watches.” The command in his voice strikes you right between the legs and you clench your thighs together in an effort to get the desired friction.

“You make Dean feel real good and I just might let you come after.” Seth spoke up, increasing the pressure of his strokes as he watched his girlfriend grip the dick of his best friend. With the added incentive you eagerly slid Dean’s thickness into your mouth. It felt strange at first. You hadn’t pleasured anyone else since you met Seth four years ago, but it didn’t take long to get into it and enjoy the differences between the two men. The fact that Seth sat behind them watching you please Dean added to your excitement.

“Come here.” Seth demanded when you were finished with Dean. You spun around to see Seth standing behind you, hurriedly stroking his cock. Recognizing the look on his face you opened your mouth, feeling the first spurts of cum the second his dick touched your tongue.

As you swallowed Seth turned to look at his friend who had tucked himself back into his jeans.

“You think she earned the right to come?” Seth asked, leaving it up to Dean.

“I think so.” He said to your relief, before a devilish smile graced his face. “But, I think she should have to do it herself. “

“No!” You protested. It just wasn’t the same as when Seth did it. Sure you could get off, but it was nowhere near as good as when Seth ate you out or used his fingers.

“I think that sounds about right.” Seth agreed ignoring your protest. “You go ahead and get yourself off.” He said walking out of the room with Dean. Passing by the living room they saw Roman fast asleep on the couch, just as Dean had left him so long ago.

#dean ambrose fanfic #seth rollins fanfic #wwe fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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jamesbarnesappreciationsociety · 6 years ago

Text

“Even In Death”

Summary: Even in death there is redemption.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader OFC: Steve Rogers

Warning: Angst, character death, paranormal activity

Word Count: 1,480

A/N: @buckysforeverprincess pulled me kicking and screaming from my comfort zone to write less fluff and more angst. My prompt: Death Becomes You!!!

*******************************************************************************************

We’re here today to celebrate the life of James Buchanan Barnes. His passing leaves a gigantic hole in the hearts of those who loved him.

Bucky’s family and friends, some with red rimmed eyes, packed the church in Brooklyn to bid farewell to one of the surliest people on the Earth. Of course, he wasn’t always this way. As a child, he, Steve and Y/N were the 3 Musketeers. When you saw one, the other two weren’t far behind. In high school, Bucky branched out. Girls swooned over his boyish charm and sexy features.

Joining the Varsity football team, his body transformed from scrawny to instant muscles. Steve and Y/N were still his bff’s, but at some point, they took a backseat. Bucky’s teammates questioned why he’d hangout with losers? Remarks like those pissed him off. Although it pissed him off to no end, George Barnes wanted more for his son. He loved Y/N but didn’t think she was wife material. He wanted Bucky to marry some prissy bitch from the country club. When he refused, George threatened to take everything away from him.

So, Bucky hurt the light at the end of his fucked up tunnel...Y/N!!!

Bucky, as he was affectionately called, loved his family and dear friends. Steven Grant Rogers and Y/N Y/L/N knew him best. Steven will now say a few words about his lifelong friend.

Touching his casket, Steve walked to the podium. “Good afternoon. Me and Bucky met at age 7. I was a scrawny kid, outside playing marbles with Y/N. Uh, he was playing baseball with a few of the neighborhood fellas.” Wiping his eyes, Steve continued. “Tyler Morris thought he was a tough guy. He broke Miss Pritchard’s window, daring me to say anything. Well, Bucky stood up for me, telling what really happened. Always taking up for me.” Tears flowed freely. “I’ll miss ya, Buck.”

Returning to his seat, Steve held Y/N’s hand. She loved and missed Bucky, even though he destroyed her in the end. Yes, they were due to be married. She was ecstatic, thinking he felt the same way. Alas, Bucky Barnes was a two-legged asshole. Now, Y/N had to stand before family, friends and LIE!!!

Eyes rimmed red, Y/N laid a single yellow rose on Bucky’s casket, kissing her hand placing it gently on the side.

“This is one of the hardest things I’ve EVER had to do. James Buchanan Barnes was a complicated man. I called him ‘The Joker.’ I can’t tell you how many times he pranked me and Stevie. That’s why I didn’t believe him when he proposed. Until he got down on one knee and presented a ring. Wiping tears from her cheeks, Y/N continued. Honestly, I’m numb. When Bucky died, so did I. How do I move on? His love will always be in my heart. Rest in peace, my love.”

Following Bucky’s internment, mourners FINALLY left the Barnes’ house. Steve and Y/N bid everyone goodnight. The ride home was bittersweet. Squeezing her hand, Steve reassured Y/N it would be alright.

Pulling in the underground parking lot, Steve and Y/N pressed the penthouse button. Opening the door, she dropped her engagement ring on the table. Removing her shoes, the last conversation with Bucky invaded her mind.

“James, what's wrong with you? Why are you saying those horrible things? You asked me to marry you. No I find out you're having an affair? Stop please. You're destroying me. Do you even care?”

“Yadda yadda yadda. Shit, you ain't the first chick to be dumped and you won't be the last.” Taking a huge drink of scotch, Bucky grabbed his keys, slamming the door.

Obviously distraught, Y/N phoned Steve. Wasting no time, he came over. She replayed over and over the harsh words from her fiance.

Crying herself to sleep, Steve wrapped his strong arms around her.

“Want me to stay?” “Nah. I'll be fine.” Steve kissed her cheek, “Remember, I'm always here for you. Just call.” Y/N nodded.

After removing her shoes, Y/N poured two fingers of scotch. Damnit Bucky Barnes, why did you have to leave me? We didn't get a chance to talk. Why did you hurt me? You shredded my heart. Fuck you!!!

Passing out, Y/N felt a presence in her room. She thought it was a dream or a nightmare. Depending on how you look at it. “What the…?” A picture of Bucky turned over, smashing to the floor. Chills ran down her spine. Slowly removing the sheet, Y/N backed into the wall.

“Bu-Bucky?! Is that you?” The bedside lamp hit the wall near her head. Scrambling for the door, it slammed splintering wood.

Running down the stairs grabbing her phone calling Steve, she breathed heavily. “Y/N? What’s wrong.” Steve sat up in his bed.

“Pl-please c-come over. I think Bucky’s spirit is haunting me.”

The red numbers on his bedside clock: 2:37 a.m. Chuckling, Steve joked,“Uh, how much did you have to drink?”

Hearing footsteps, Y/N grabbed her car keys sprinting for the car!!! Lights flickered on and off. Tearing out of the driveway, she broke every law speeding to Steve’s.

Loud banging roused him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You gotta come home with me. I’m not fuckin’ crazy. Get dressed!! Let’s go!!”

Huffing, “I’ll go but I ain’t changing my clothes. Pajamas will have to do.”

Arriving at Y/N’s, the lights continued to flash like a disco ball in the club.

Stepping inside, the atmosphere mirrored that of “The Amityville Horror.” Cold, smell of death.

“I thought you were just kidding. Shit, there’s something or someone in here. Buck, is that you?”

Y/N held tight against Steve’s strong arm. “Do you think it’s him?” “Gotta be. He’s dead still causing trouble.”

Steve ducked just in time, missing a shoe hurled at his head. “Alright motherfucker. ENOUGH!!”

Pissed, Y/N shouted, “JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES, YOU RUINED MY LIFE ALIVE. WHY FUCK WITH ME FROM THE GRAVE? DID YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH??” Streams of tears rolled down her face.

Suddenly, an apparition appeared on the sofa. There he was. James B. Barnes smirking. Oddly enough, neither Steve or Y/N were afraid.

“So, it’s good to see you Y/N. Thought you’d be brokenhearted.”

“Humph. You gotta be kidding? Why did you hate me so much? I gave you the most precious thing in the world...my heart.”

“Listen. All that shit I said was a lie. Don’t know what came over me. M’here to set the record straight.”

Steve scoffed. “Damn pal, death becomes you.”

“Well well what do we have here? Couldn’t wait to get ‘yo nasty hands on my girl?”

Stomping her foot, Y/N had enough. “Listen and listen good. Steve has been nothing but a good friend. I’m quite sure you heard our eulogies. Wretched bastard.”

“Oh yeah. I heard what you said before going to bed. Not only did I hurt you, it tore me up to say those things.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’re full of shit dead or alive. I despise you.”

“I had that coming. My dad wanted me to marry some dizzy broad from the country club or he’d take everything from me.”

Steve visibly upset, “You mean to tell me, your dad lied in Y/N’s face while plotting behind her back?”

“Basically.”

“That’s some cold shit. Your dad’s no better than you.” Steve spat.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Y/N was speechless. “I gotta lay down. This is too much.”

“Sorry about the broken pictures and shit. I’ll leave you alone. I am sorry. I’ll always love you.”

“I loved you with my heart and soul. Our last conversation didn’t end well. Remember how you crushed me and stormed out? That night, I died along with you. Only difference, I’m still alive to hear and feel every nasty thing you said over and over again.”

“No matter what you think, I loved you with my dying breath. Be happy doll. Steve, take good care of her.”

Draping his muscular arm over her shoulder. Steve vowed to always be there for Y/N.

“Bucky before you go, just want to say I loved you before our lives became difficult. Had you told me how your father felt, it would have cushioned the blow a bit.”

She and Bucky recited a portion of wedding vows that were never said.

“From now until the end….”

“You’ll always be in my heart. Love ya baby girl.”

@buckysforeverprincess @loricameback @suz-123 @pegasusdragontiger @bolontiku @ek823 @kanupps06 @stars8melanin @bucky-made-me-do-it

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #marvel madness #redemption #never too late to forgive

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kennedywithapen · 6 years ago

Text

I Love You

Sam Winchester x Dark!OFC

No smut tho lol ya nasties

Inspiration - My Strange Addiction by Billie Eilish

Having a ‘morning after’ with Cate was always surprising, but welcome. So whenever Sam woke up to find her still, in fact, here—he embraced it. He shifted to face her, his tired eyes finally focusing as he wrapped his arms around her.

The universe must not have wanted him to have a good morning, however, because Dean’s special knock broke Sam out of his fluffy thoughts of Cate. He groaned quietly before unwrapping his body from hers, careful not to awaken his very own sleeping beauty.

“Yeah, yeah,” Same muttered under his breath before opening the door for Dean. “What’s up?” Sam rubbed his eyes.

Dean’s glance shifted from his disheveled and tired brother to the bed. Cate slept on. “She came back.” He stated, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Cate was complex, to say the least. One moment Dean swore she’d die for Sam, and the next he’d find her leaving for weeks at a time. It sucked, to put it lightly. When she left, Sam was sloppy. He took less care of himself and spent free time in his room or the library, and threw himself into hunting. When she was present, he was happy. Truly, happy.

“She never left,” Sam smiled with a puppy-dog look that made Dean grin back. It wasn’t a face he was too accustomed to, lately.

“You, demonic little bitch, are going to tell me exactly where pretty boy is,” Cate spat at the Demon. “Because he is my pretty boy!” She yelled, her eyes were almost aflame, she was so mad. If not for the grim circumstances, Sam would have laughed at how she turned their try-hard ‘clever’ nickname effectively into a pet name while enraged.

The demon backed straight into a demon trap. Cate, without a doubt or hint of fear, walked in after it. Only Cate. She grabbed the demon’s throat and lifted them. “Well?” She said expectingly. The demon pointed to the closet Sam was peering out of to witness the scene. “Damn, i’m never going to live ‘pretty-boy’ down.” She laughed breathlessly. With a swift moment she slayed the Demon, and casually opened the closet sliding door. She placed a hand on her hip. “I was hoping you didn’t hear that.” She said, pulling off the gag and helping Sam to his feet. Once the zip ties where off his wrist, Sam kissed Cate desperately. Cate smiled into it.

“I love you.” Sam said as they pulled away. He didn’t expect her to say it back, of course. He knew it would take time for Cate to embrace a serious relationship. Also, she showed her feelings through her actions more often than words. Without flinching or even turning, she threw the demon knife into another demon behind her. The thump it made as it’s body hit the ground was the only sound heard in the small, dreary room. Cate’s eyes seemed glazed over a bit, but this sort of a reaction had been expected. “I’ll be in the car.” He smiled before leaving her, swiping a gentle thumb across the healing wound on her cheekbone.

She didn’t know how she felt about what Sam had said. She was scared of what could happen to him, if he loved her. But also- there was a distinct warmth in her chest that spread to her fingertips, the same warmth she’d felt the first time they kissed. That same exact warmth she felt when she came home after not seeing him for weeks, sometimes months. Home. Home?

She played with the meaning of home before clear-cut concluding that the bunker, Sam’s hotel room, or even the impala, was most definitely her home.

When she’d returned to said impala, Dean had reunited with them. He’d taken the top floor on their rescue of Sam from the demon’s. They made quick eye contact. It wasn’t necessarily that they disliked each other, but rather never found the time or reason to become particularly close. Plus, Dean didn’t like how she would disappear without so much as a note. He also didn’t like her mysteriousness, and how she didn’t disclose any details of her person life without being pressured or it being essential.

Of course, Sam knew considerably more than anyone else; but it still wasn’t a whole lot. He didn’t even really know where she disappeared to. He did know that he loved her, and whatever he found out in the (hopefully) near future wouldn’t change that. finding out she killed innocents would be a bummer, though. He hoped to chuck it wasn’t that.

“Dean,” Cate called, and he stopped at the door. He looked at her with a questioning look. He could count on one hand how many times they’d spoken alone together. So, whatever this was, must’ve been important.

“Yeah?” He motioned for her to continue when he was met with a moment of silence. The action was a bit too hasty, he realized. Dean gave a small smile for repense.

Cate hesitated. “I want to- ‘let Sam in’, as he puts it,” she said, keeping her eyes focused solely on the kitchen table between the two of them. “I don’t know how. I thought maybe I could tell you where I go when I leave, to take the dramatics that I’m feeling away. I’ve waited far too long.” Dean was taken-aback, but nodded and swallowed his impatience. He slowly sat down. Please say you help orphans, he silently prayed to no particular party.

“I’m glad you’ve decided it’s time.” He said. She nodded nervously. Dean fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

“I...” She started. Her eyes were tired. “I didn’t get these bruises from a hunt.” She said. Dean shot her an analytical gaze. He knew she looked in worse shape than what some vamps could do. Taken off guard his ass. He’d seen her take out more Vamps than he thought he could, only a minute after Sam had confessed his feelings to her (which seemed to have thrown her for a loop up until the point where she was in grave danger). That girl wouldn’t be caught with her pants around her ankles. She grunted as she touched her abdomen, where presumably a healing wound was. “I’m fighting a war.” She said. Dean didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that.

“E-excuse me?” He stuttered out.

“Excused. And yes, a war. My people- about a year ago my people started being kiddnapped. Once we found those responsible, a war was waged. If we lose, we’ll be enslaved by the people who call themselves the Men of Letters.” She said, sighing. She rubbed her temples, exhausted from what now Dean knew was a goddamn war on top of worrying sick about Sam. Dean clenched his fists at the mention of what just had to be the British bitches, who were now enslaving people. Of fucking course.

“Why would they enslave you guys?” He asked, anger not quite filtered out of his voice like he would have wanted. Cate finally met his eyes.

“Because we’re a goldmine of super-soldiers, trained to fight since we could walk, with dragon blood lacing or DNA. And not those virgin-eaters I heard you hunted before; the badass kind that breath fire, and are loyal to the end of the line.” She smiled a bit in pride, but it fell when she felt Dean grow tense.

“And that’s why you didn’t tell us. Because we hunt things like you.” Dean stated. She frowned

“We aren’t monsters.”

“You’re not human.” Dean countered. “Why should we trust you?” Cate was stunned, and laughed in disbelief. Dean’s eyes didn’t hold the same compassion in them that they did moments before.

“All I’ve done is protect you guys and people you care about, I’ve never killed an innocent, and done everything in my power to save as many lives as I could; yet you throw it aside because I have a fraction of inhuman blood.” She nodded. “I can’t say I understand.”

Dean thought about it. He admitted he could have handled that much better. It was almost instinct. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Just- please give me more to go on.” Dean said. Cate exhaled and stood up, walking around the table until she was standing behind the chair beside Dean’s, looking at him as if asking permission to sit. Dean have a nod for her to sit.

“I didn’t tell you guys, because I want to keep Sam as far away from this war as possible. I’ve lost family, friends,” She said with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Sorrow, desperation, annoyance- he couldn’t be sure. “I can’t lose Sam. I love him too much.” She said. Dean met her eyes again. It had been two weeks since Sam had said he loved her, and she still hadn’t said it back.

“You mean that?” Dean asked.

“I swear on my life.” She assured him, and Dean nodded, smiling a little on the inside. Sam has been so jittery lately, always talking about Cate when she was in the shower, or away in general. More than usual. It was like he was scared that soon he wouldn’t be able to, which Dean didn’t like to think about. The fallout of that...

The door opened and Cate heard Sam’s footsteps, which she’d memorized as soon as she’d met him, really. She had a scared expression on her face for only a moment before masking it with her usual stoic, but caring, one. Dean made a move to stand, but Cate touched his arm. He turned back to her.

“He loves you and that ain’t changing. You need to tell him everything, though. No more secrets. Not with him, at least.” Dean said sternly, but reassuringly. He left the room quickly. Despite not knowing Cate too well, he knew if he was her he’d need to do it right away, else he may never.

So she did it.

“Okay,” Sam said, accepting her story and clapping his hands together. “Okay.” He repeated.

“Okay? That’s it?” Cate narrowed her eyes. Sam looked like he didn’t really know what else to say, but just okay? She didn’t buy that there were no questions he had to follow up her insane other life.

Sam looked at her. “I’m going to help you.” Sam said simply. Cate’s fists slammed against the table. Sam flinched.

“What? No! I didn’t tell you because I want you safe from what’s taken so much from me!” She cried out, begging Sam to change his mind. “I’m not ready for it to take you too. I never will be, because I love you.” She said quietly. It was one thing to admit it to Dean, but...

The look on Sam’s face was entirely worth it. As inappropriate as it really was, he couldn’t hold back a smile as he completely disappeared in her words and what they meant.

Sam bit his lip, and almost attempted to bring himself back to the very real and important conversation they’d been in the midst of, when Cate swung herself over the table and was now sat on the table directly in front of Sam’s chair. He smiled up at her. She brought her lips to his, and for a moment there was nothing. No war, no monsters- just them.

And he didn’t care that she was bruised and batted up, never having perfectly clear skin and always having new scars pop up. He didn’t care that she didn’t know how to express her feelings quite yet. He didn’t mind it when she took seemingly unnecessary precautions to double or triple ensure their safety—or rather his safety—because he knew that these things were a part of her. It was who she was.

She didn’t care that Sam had made countless mistakes, because she knew he always meant to do the right thing. She didn’t mind when he rambled and ranted about nerdy things she didn’t care much for, because he made her care. She didn’t make a fuss when he held her tight as they slept, because he did it to show she was his (and he hers) and it made him feel safer. She didn’t care that he woke her up at ungodly times in the night after a particularly bad nightmare makes him scream, because she knows that he’s been through shit nobody should go through and is willing to put up worth the aftermath because she’s so damn happy he’s still here regardless.

They accepted each other and all their quirks and flaws.

Bonus:

“You don’t scare me, Crowley. I live with Cate. Here, watch this,” Dean smirked as Crowley stood evidently annoyed (at Dean as well as the noise of the busy, filthy camp.)

“Hey, Catey... what would you do to someone who hurt Sammy? I mean hurt.” He prompted. There was a glower in Cate’s demeanor as she paused.

She stabbed the would-be fatal blow into a poor, poor dummy, imagining it was the mystery person who’d dared to hurt Sam. She stood and collected herself .“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know.” Cate’s breath had a hint of smoke as she held back the true dragon in her, that was enraged only at the thought. Crowley blinked.

“Do remind me to never threaten moose’s life, mother.” Crowley turned halfway to Rowena, who’s eyes were lit up at the scene that played, absolutely intrigued at the fiery soul.

#sam winchester #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #sam winchester x oc #dean winchester #oc fic #original female character #sam winchester x ofc #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #crowley #rowena mcleod

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hnrywinchester · 6 years ago

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Fare Thee Well - - Chapter 10

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Paring: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, character deaths, PTSD Gabriel, Canon Compliant

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 4.4k

Gabriel froze. There he was. Loki. He was leaning up against the wall, dressed in one of those ridiculous vests as always, his face still stuck in that ‘someone-pissed-in-his-Wheaties’ expression even after all these years. However, Gabriel’s gaze was quickly pulled from his former friend to the cowering figure at his feet. Liv. She was sitting on her knees, one of Loki’s hideous neckties wrapped tightly around her mouth, gagging and suffocating her slowly. Loki’s hand was clutching her long, brown pony tail, effectively holding her in place beside him as if it were a leash. His stomach dropped at the sight. From what he could tell, she was generally unharmed. Her clothes were intact, one eye looked slightly swollen, but beyond that she was in one piece. Her mind was a different story, but Gabriel prayed he’d arrived on time.

“Liv…” Gabriel gasped, his voice shaking from rage and fear together, “what did you do to her?”

Loki smirked, happy to be eliciting the desired emotion from the angel, “Your pet told me she didn’t much compare to a horse, but I believe I have to disagree. Don’t you?”

With a guttural growl, Gabriel took a step towards him, ready to lunge, uncaring that the katana meant for him was missing with the elder Winchester. As his foot lifted from the floor, Loki responded. In one swift movement he pulled what Gabriel recognized as Liv’s hunting knife from the waist of his slacks and held it to her throat, freezing him in his path.

“Not one more step, or I’ll bleed her like a pig. I know you don’t have what it takes to heal her either. So no bluffing,” Loki taunted, cocking his head to one side, “It really would be a shame. I’ve taken a liking to her.”

Rage boiled Gabriel’s blood as he stared at the blade held to Liv’s throat, his nostrils flaring. He was helpless, there was nothing he could do to help her, besides obey. Her expression was unreadable, at least from this distance, her eyes refusing to meet his from across the hallway. This was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, and he’d let it. He shouldn’t have let her walk out of that hotel room, he should never have run without an explanation, this was his fault. As always.

When Loki took a step toward him, Liv obediently fell to her hands and crawled along the floor beside him and Gabriel could feel the satisfaction radiating off of the Demi-God. This was pure heaven for him, complete control and power over not one, but two beings. This was what he lived for, toying with people, emotions and situations, molding everything into entertainment for himself. Gabriel couldn’t wait to end him once and for all. The question was how without losing her in the crossfire.

Loki came to stand a foot away from him, that smug grin still plastered on his face, “Get on your knees and beg,” he commanded.

As the words left his lips, he pressed the tip of the blade into Liv’s skin, her eyes snapping shut in pain as she held back her cry. Gabriel’s lip curled into a snarl as he slowly dropped, his eyes staying locked on the mirror image of his own. When his knees hit the floor, he kept his gaze strong and his body stronger. He may be on his knees but that didn’t mean he was giving in.

“Pathetic,” Loki ridiculed, “Look at what you resort yourself to. For what? A human? Are you that desperate for affections?”

With quick pull on her hair, Loki jerked Liv’s body level with the angel’s, their faces inches apart.

“Look at her,” he ordered, tugging her a little harder.

Slowly, Gabriel pulled his eyes from his opponent to hers, unprepared for the guilt that would undoubtedly wash through him. He felt his brow relax as her brown eyes met with his, his murderous stare softening. From here he could see her red, swollen eyes, bloodshot and filled with sorrow. They weren’t fearful like he’d been expecting, which raised questions as to what tortures Loki had subjected her to in the hour he’d had her. Her lips were strained against the pull of the fabric between them, her breathing hard as she tried to take in as much air her nose would allow. A bruise was forming beneath her right eye, she’d been hit by who he assumed was Sleipnir when he’d taken her captive but he couldn’t be sure. Loki generally tried to remain as unphysical as he could, he was all mind games and theatrics. Gabriel tried his best to apologize with his eyes, he could feel his lips downturning into a frown as she looked at him, helpless. She looked as if she’d given up, and that was not a phenomena that he was at all familiar with.

“Tell him,” Loki spat, “Show him the real person he falls to his knees for.”

With a quick tick of his wrist Loki cut the tie from around her mouth, causing her to gasp in mouthfuls of air as her body recovered from its lack of oxygen. Her chest heaved as she whimpered quietly, her eyes never leaving Gabriel’s, fear spilling into them.

“Please,” she begged, her voice raspy and exhausted, she’d been screaming, “please…”

“Tell him,” Loki demanded again, “or I will.”

“It’s okay,” Gabriel comforted, his heart racing in panic, “it’s okay, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

Her throat was closing in on itself, her tongue frozen in her mouth. He wasn’t making this any easier, with those anxiety-stricken eyes and soft frown, his tone so adoring even now. Half of her thought that Loki killing her was the better option, but she knew that Gabriel would blame himself and leaving him with that guilt to bear for eternity just wasn’t something she could do. The guilt was hers to bear, and it was time to come clean.

“I didn’t look for you,” she confessed, tears pouring from her eyes as the words left her lips in the form of choked sobs, “When you didn’t come back, I never looked for you. I never tried to find you. I… left you. I tried to forget you. I’m sorry! Baby, I’m so sorry…”

Liv’s wrenching sobs echoed through the empty space as she fell to her forearms, burying her face into the floor as she wept. She’d meant to bury that, he was never supposed to know, it was the one secret she meant to take to her grave. She couldn’t bear to look at him, the betrayal that would be etched into his face would haunt her until her dying day.

Gabriel stared at the floor, trying to process what he’d just heard. His chest was constricting as he fought the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Not here, not in front of Loki. That would give him the ultimate trophy for this monopoly he’d designed, but his heart was breaking. Deep down he knew it was a good thing, that she’d never tried, she’d be dead. Yet, knowing that she’d never even attempted felt like every day of the past twelve years were all… for nothing. She loved him, so he thought, but maybe she didn’t?

“She left you. To rot,” Loki sneered, finally dropping his hold on Liv’s hair as he’d rendered her immobile with emotion alone, “yet you risk your life to save her, time and time again. She doesn’t love you. Who could? Ineffectual, degenerate little runaway. Not even daddy wanted you. You’re going to die, alone, for nothing. With no one to mourn you.”

“That’s not true, “ Liv sputtered, lifting her head to only be swiftly knocked in the temple by Loki’s foot.

With that one action, Gabriel’s rage won. He leapt from his knees and tackled the Norse Trickster, knocking him to his back.

“Go!” Gabriel yelled, flipping his eyes to Liv quickly, Loki’s elbow connecting with his chin before he could even turn his eyes back.

Everything in her was telling her to run, to find Sam and Dean, but as she watched as Loki gained the upper hand on Gabriel, she couldn’t bear to leave his side. She scurried against the wall, pressing herself as far into the plaster as she could, watching on as Loki rose to his feet.

“You think you’re some… poor innocent victim?” Loki began, walking over to Gabriel’s hunched form and planting another brutal punch to his jaw, “Gabriel with his deadbeat daddy and his mean older brothers. ‘Who will help me?’ ‘Who will save me?’ I did!”

Gabriel groaned as Loki lifted him by his jacket, pinning him against the wall by his neck, he knew Liv hadn’t left and he spotted her against the wall near the door to the penthouse, he needed to do something. He couldn’t lose. Not now. Neither one of the men had noticed the Winchesters come into view, but she did. She also saw what Dean was holding in his hands, Loki’s sword.

“But you… you couldn’t keep one promise. And then you had the audacity to ask me to help you… AGAIN?!” Loki continued, throwing Gabriel down the hall, landing right in front of her with his back facing her, “You think I deserve to die for your spinelessness? That my sons deserved to die?! For her!? You let my father die for a some wallowing Jezebel you found on the side of road and decided you wanted to keep!?”

Liv watched on in horror as Loki pounded the angel into the ground, flinching with each smack of his fist on Gabriel’s face. He’d been thrown in Loki’s angry speech and was now lying a foot away from her, Loki still yelling in the distance. This was her chance. She pushed herself from the wall over to his crumpled body, grabbing his shoulder with her hand and turning him to face her. Even though she knew she only had mere seconds to spare, she placed her hand on his cheek softly, running her fingers down the stubble of his jaw. His cheek was split open, his hair messily splayed around his face, he almost looked like he didn’t even care to fight anymore.

“Get up,” she whispered intently, “get up, and finish this.”

As she finished her request, he felt something slide into his hand, the wooden handle of Loki’s sword. Then her hand slowly closed around his, locking his fingers around the weapon.

“Silly girl,” Loki mocked, “He will lead you to your death, and blindly you will follow.”

When Loki spoke to her, her gaze never moved from Gabriel’s. Her eyes were strong, willing him to continue and finish this mission once and for all. She didn’t know where she stood with him anymore, nor did she want to, knowing it would no longer be in high regard, but she refused to watch him roll over and die.

Finally, Gabriel rolled to his feet, grabbing his former friend by his vest and whirling him around to press his back into the wall, the tip of the katana now gently resting against his abdomen. Loki laughed, letting his head loll against the surface behind him.

“Clever girl,” he chided, “of course you would need someone to swoop in and save your pitiful ass.”

“Shut up,” Gabriel snapped, shoving the blade against Loki a little harder.

“Face it, old friend, you’re a joke. You’re a failure. You couldn’t even keep the one thing you cherished above all else. You stand for nothing. And in the end, that’s exactly what you’ll die for.”

“You first.”

With one single groan as Gabriel shoved the blade deep into his stomach, Loki fell limp against Gabriel’s hold. Liv sighed in relief, knowing that now it was over. Gabriel’s quest for vengeance was complete and she hoped that he felt better. That he felt free. Yet, she knew this also brought a whole new level of problems to the table. Now he knew. He knew that she’d walked off and abandoned him, written him off like a bad date and moved on. Although she hadn’t, he’d still occupied every waking thought she had, there was no way explanation of why she’d done what she had. Certainly he would want one though, and she knew he deserved it.

“Oh thank god, so it’s over? We can go now?” Dean sounded from the doorway, his annoyance over this entire task still very evident in his voice.

Liv knew Gabriel’s eyes were locked on her, but she couldn’t meet them. Whether it was shame, embarrassment or fear keeping her from him she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t face him. Quickly, she turned and sped off back to the ground floor. Running from her responsibilities was nothing short of a talent of hers, it was probably the one thing she did best. She knew it was a temporary solution, giving her maybe ten minutes at best before he’d undoubtedly be standing in front of her. His golden eyes would be glowing in the sunlight, looking at her with the disdain she deserved. Devoid of all the love they once held.

Leaning with her back against the Impala she waited, trying to gather her thoughts and organize them as best as she could. She knew what his first question would be: why? She knew why, but it wasn’t going to sit well with him. After he’d come back, her reasoning had been pounded to dust. Everything she’d thought to be reality had turned out to be nothing more than some sick, twisted alternate universe created solely by her own apathy. She’d brought him down to her level and he was far, far above it.

“Are you okay?” a quiet, soft voice asked from in front of her, her eyes still locked on the pavement beneath her feet.

That was not the first question she was expecting, although it should have been. He was always thinking of her first.

“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice still heavy with her lingering tears.

“You’re lying.”

Of course he knew. Hearing those words from his mouth did not help her situation, she’d never meant to lie to him. She never really had before. Not since they’d started whatever this was. She’d always trusted him with every secret, every feeling and he always accepted it. Except this time. No way he stayed true after this.

Still trying to escape her situation, she’d climbed into the backseat of the car, cornering herself like a rat. He followed, determined for answers that she didn’t want to give.

“Why didn’t you look for me?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle and void of an accusing tone, “I mean, better you didn’t, you’d be dead. But not at all?”

Liv felt her bottom lip begin to quiver as guilt went pummeling through her. The sadness in his question was hard enough to hear, but the look on his face was worse. She could still see the complete devotion he held for her, the esteem and the love. If she’d never let herself get taken, she’d be wrapped in his arms right now, their lips in a battle of affections as they reunited finally. He was supposed to be fixed, ready to take on the second act of his life, post-trauma, with her. They were retiring, jaunting off to some quiet, happy place to live out their days. Her days…. But no. They were here, in the back of the impala with an impossible mountain of regret settling between them.

“I thought you never came back…. Because you just didn’t want to. I thought, you didn’t want it anymore,” she told him, her voice heavy with shame, “I just… figured… you’d moved on…”

“Wait…” he began, his eyebrows furrowing, “thought I didn’t want what? You?”

As she sighed she felt him slide in closer towards her, but he was careful not to touch her. Whether it was because he didn’t want to or was afraid to she wasn’t sure, but she wished he would. Ever since he’d come around, she’d always felt like far less than he’d ever deserved, even less than anything he’d actually want. She was plain, boring, her hair was always messy and her life was even messier. She never wore makeup, or dressed in anything but hunter’s clothes, a stark difference to any company he’d kept in the past. When he never returned after the Apocalypse, it was something she’d been anticipating for years before. Now she realized she just had had no faith in him, he’d been there, proving himself to her, but she’d never believed it.

“Gabriel, I’ve never been-” she began before he cut her off.

“Don’t say it. If you think I’m someone who would waste my own time on anything other than what I want, you know me a lot less than I thought you did. After everything? You still don’t believe that I love you? What do I have to do, Liv? Pull the moon out of the sky and give it to you? Years. We were together for years, and you…”

He felt himself growing angry, and he didn’t want to lash out at her. Throwing the door open, he emerged back into the Colorado sun, trying to understand her reasoning. He’d been devoted, he knew he had. He loved her, once she came around he’d never wanted anything else. His mind never wandered, nor his eyes, and he gave her everything, but she still didn’t believe him. Did she ever trust him? He knew he had a… colorful past, but never once had he given her any reason to doubt him. Yet as soon as he’d left, she’d just… let him. Had she been relieved?

Watching him as he paced outside the car, she stifled back her cry. Her cheeks ached enough, her eyes burned, everything hurt from her fight with that doppelgänger asshole, and all she wanted was sleep. He wasn’t as angry as she thought he’d be, but that anger was replaced with disappointment and she wasn’t sure which was worse. She always knew he’d loved her in some way, but just because she’d known it didn’t mean she’d accepted it. She was far less than what he was capable of having, but anytime she’d broached the subject he’d always just shot it down. It made sense, the idea of her feeling that way was so preposterous to him that he wanted to shove it out of her mind, but it had never really left. Letting her body relax against the side of the door, she watched as Gabriel began talking to with Sam. His little smile alone was enough to brighten her mood, even if only for a moment.

When he climbed into the back seat once more, she cowered deeply into the corner. He looked over at her and she again, refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the pavement as Dean started the drive back to Kansas. She knew she was safe for now, Gabriel wouldn’t do anything with the Winchesters here. As theatrical as he was, he appreciated privacy at all the right times, this being one of them. As the scenery became monotonous, she found herself falling to sleep, the day’s events finally catching up with her. When her head lolled back against the old, worn leather, she was a goner.

One hill climbed, another one to go. Every time he felt like he was winning, another block showed up smack in the middle of the road. She thought he didn’t want her. After some of his anger had subsided, he wondered what he’d done to fail her so deeply that she would anticipate him walking out on her. He always knew she didn’t think the best of herself, but he’d always told her that her supposed shortcomings were all in her own head. She loved him, he knew that. She’d come immediately when Sam had called her, she’d walked into that room not out of obligation, it was because she loved him. He was going to cling to that until it was ripped from his cold, dead hands.

When he turned his head to look at her, to tell her that he loved her still, he found her chin tucked to her chest, passed out cold. Her head lolled side to side with the sway of the car and even to him that looked terribly uncomfortable. Gently, he guided her down by her shoulders, laying her head in his lap hoping to save her from a sore neck in a few hours. His fingers found their way into her hair, gently combing through the tangled strands and she whimpered quietly in sleepy response. Yeah, he loved her, always would. Finally now up close, he could see the damages of her time with Loki. The bruise under her eyes was darkening, there were welts on her wrists from what he assumed were his hands and the little cut on her neck was scabbed over. His own guilt washed through him as the realization that those were only there because of her association with him dawned on him. They were both disasters.

Three hours later, Dean pulled into a Gas n’ Sip, the loss of the engine’s rumble rousing Liv from her sleep. Whatever she was laying on was warm, the comforting ministrations in her hair keeping her in a relaxed state. This was nice. It smelled familiar, old leather mixed with arid… Her eyes shot open. When she realized where she was, she jolted upright, immediately running her hands over her hair smoothing it back down. Gabriel looked back at her, shocked by her sudden exit, his hand still in his lap where her head had just been,

“Sorry… must have…” she stammered, unable to get the rest of the words out.

Her feet couldn’t carry her away fast enough. She burst out of the car and beelined straight for the bathroom, her lungs going into overdrive as she gasped for air. Gabriel followed her out of the car, watching sadly as she ran to the bathroom, leaning his body back against the car.

“So, what’s going on? Everything okay?” Sam asked, pulling the gasp pump from the car.

“Peachy keen,” Gabriel responded, “how much longer ‘til we’re back?”

“Halfway there. Look,I know there’s something going on but-”

“Save it.”

Gabriel took off in the direction of the store, he knew she needed something to eat, water at a minimum. As he wandered around the store, half listening to Dean flirting with the cashier, he wondered if his life would ever go back to normal. Ever since he’d been back it had just been disaster after disaster and he was ready to call it. Maybe head back into hiding, go sit for a few hundred years and hit the reset button.

“Add these to his tab,” Gabriel instructed, throwing a water, a coke and a three musketeers bar onto the counter in front of Dean, effectively interrupting his playful banter, “We’re together.”

Gabriel smirked, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulders, earning him an eye roll as Dean shrugged his arm off. The bell to the door rang and Gabriel’s heart jumped as it always did when she entered a room. Her eyes fell to him at the register and again she continued with her sheepish approach. Was she afraid of him? He walked over to her, stopping just far enough way to where he thought she’d be comfortable, holding out the things he’d gotten for her.

“Did I get it right?” he asked tenderly, his confusion and sadness evident.

Nodding, she thanked him, taking the items from his outstretched hand as she wondered what was going through his mind. Did he hate her now? He should. As they walked out, a very grumpy Dean following behind them, Gabriel held the door for her, carefully keeping his arm from grazing her shoulder. He had no idea how to fix this.

The rest of the drive was in silence, Dean’s same twelve songs on repeat through the entire three hours. The pair in the back sat miles apart, both wishing for the same thing but too afraid to act. His arms seemed a perfect home as she remembered them. The way he held her as tight as he could, molding her body into all the right places of his to keep his embrace as tight as it could be. The little jokes, I love you’s and sweet nothings he would whisper to get her to laugh or smile made a little grin settle upon her face. She remembered dancing in motel room kitchens at midnight, days spent in bed watching soap reruns and eating anything her heart desired, and fingers that knew how to move against her like they were made just for her.

When they reached the bunker, she was the first inside. Castiel had already arrived home and the relief that settled in her chest when she saw the tan trench coat overcame all other emotions, even if only for a moment. She ran to him, burying herself in his chest, trying to keep the tears away at least until she was safely hidden in her room. Gabriel was next, having ran after her, he’d waited three hours in hopes of getting her alone for the conversation he knew they needed to have. The sight before him however only sent a pang of jealousy straight to his heart. There she was, already comfortable in the arms of his brother. He knew they were friends, hell he’d been thankful for it, but it was his arms he wanted her encircled with. He respected her wishes, walking off in the direction of the library as Castiel watched him with cautious eyes, no doubt afraid of his archangel brother’s anger. Gabriel wasn’t angry, however. If anything, he hoped maybe Cas would have an idea on how to help him fix it, but it didn’t stop the nostalgia of his face in her hair, smelling that coconut shampoo he loved so much as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“What happened?” Castiel asked as Dean and Sam entered the bunker.

“We got Gabriel, we open that rift tomorrow,” Dean recounted, “everything else is secondary.”

Gabriel could hear the conversation from his seat at the table, secondary his ass. Dean seemed to be forgetting it was his grace that was necessary for his little spell and he’d be damned if he walked over into Apocalypse land without having every detail of his relationship figured out first. Whether it was continuing or ending, it was being settled before he went and risked his life for those boys again. He’d be damn sure of it.

TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @analisespn @nodistressdamsel

#gabriel x ofc #gabriel x oc #gabriel #spn #gabriel fic #gabriel fanfic #gabriel fanfiction

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my-emotional-self · 7 years ago

Text

Let Me Protect You Part 2/Chapter 10

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC Emilia

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: Swearing, So Much Angst!!! Self-Doubt, Feelings of Worthlessness

Rating: R

Summary: Now that Chris and Emilia have established their relationship, she moves into his house after her brother decides to live in New York. Emilia is in bliss, thinking maybe her life will finally be at peace. But are things always that easy in Emilia’s life?

A/N: This will be the last Chapter I update on this fic for a little bit. I have decided to put Let Me Protect You on a hiatus, at least until New Beginnings is finished.

“What the fuck was I thinking” you muttered quietly to yourself; your hands gripping the hand rest of the plane as it took off. Your breathing became accelerated, your nerves getting the best of you as you tried to breathe through it. Fortunately for you, there was a flight leaving for Louisiana within the hour and there were open seats.

Chris had yet to text you when you boarded the plane; making you have bad thoughts. Was he cheating on you? When he was with his friends and having a good time, were you the last thing on his mind? Did he meet someone while doing photo ops and take her back to his room? Did he really love you?

All those scenarios flooded your mind; visions of him flirting with all the girls getting pictures with him; his hand grazing their asses. Tears started streaming down your face and you were a wreck; not even caring what other passengers thought of you.

The four hour flight went by relatively fast as your thoughts consumed your mind the whole time. As the plane landed, you turned your phone back on, the light indicating you had a message.

Chris: Hey beautiful. Sorry I haven’t texted in awhile. Been crazy busy today with everything. I love you

Chris: The guys are pulling my chain. They really wanted to meet you this weekend. Maybe we can set up a time and have them over for a barbeque. What do you think of that?

Chris: You must be working away, or snoozing. Slacker ;) Love you Ems

More tears spilled down your face as you read and reread the texts. Did he really love you though? He made a promise to you, a promise that he would always be there when you needed him. And he broke that promise. You needed him, to hear his voice, hear comforting words coming from his mouth and instead, his phone was turned off.

You made it to the Convention Center and Hotel that Chris was staying at and immediately you paused before walking in the door. You only knew his room number and that was it. Naturally you couldn’t just walk up to the concierge and ask for a room key to Chris’ Evans room. “Fuck” you cursed to yourself, not knowing what else to do.

Pulling out your phone, you dialed Chris’ number only for it to go straight to voicemail again. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you made your way into the hotel and to the elevators.

The elevator dinged and opened its doors once you reached the third floor. Walking slowly throughout the hallway, you stopped in front of Chris’ room. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat as nerves coursed through your body. Lifting your hand, you knocked on his door. You shifted from foot to foot, waiting for him to answer. Your knuckles knocked on the wooded door one more time.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, you placed your duffel bag on the floor and sat down, your back against the wall. Of course he wasn’t in his room yet and you had no idea when he would be back. You would have to play the waiting game some more; hopefully the hotel staff wouldn’t kick you out.

Your eyes became heavy quickly as you made your way to lie on your side; you duffel acting like a pillow for you. You were out like a light, nightmares plaguing your nap.

Charlie’s grip on your throat grew tighter as you struggled to breathe. “You will never be good enough for him, or anyone” Charlie’s venomous voice spat out. Your vision grew dark as he cut off your oxygen supply.

The door burst open, revealing a startled Chris. Charlie’s grip lightened and you were able to suck in a deep breath. You looked between Charlie and Chris as Chris stood in the doorway, not moving. “Help me Chris” you pleaded, your eyes watering.

Chris barked out a dark chuckle, “Why would I save you? I don’t even love you. You are completely worthless you know that? I don’t even know why I got into a relationship with you in the first place. You’ve ruined my life Emilia.”

You jolted awake, breathing ragged from your nightmare. But was it a nightmare, or did Chris really think that way about you? You started weeping again, thinking your nightmare was true. Your head hurt, your face was red and blotchy from crying as you sat there and wept.

The elevator dinged and you heard a bunch of guys laughing and joking as if they had no care or problem in the world. Placing your hands over your face, your crying picked up more. Why couldn’t you not have a care or problem in the world? Why couldn’t life be easy for you?

Their voices got louder the closer they got to you and before you knew it, they were silent. “Emilia?” Chris’ voice reverberated in the hallway. Frantically, you looked up to see not only Chris, but Sebastian, Mackie, and Renner all staring at you. Your eyes landed on Chris’. He took in your appearance, red and tears streaked face before rushing over to you.

He crouched in front of you, gently grabbing your face. “Baby! What happened?” he asked, voice full of concern and worry. Hearing his voice was all it took before you cried out again, clutching onto his shirt for dear life.

He rubbed soothing circles onto your back, causing your tears and sobbing to subside a little. “Why don’t you take her inside Chris? We’re done for the night anyways” Renner said as he lifted your duffel bag into his hands.

“Come on beautiful, lets go inside huh?” Chris asked and you nodded your head. He helped you up onto your shaky legs; your back cracking from the position you were stuck in. Chris pulled out his keycard and opened the door for you first. You walked in slowly, head bent down.

“Let us know if you need anything man” Sebastian said as Renner handed Chris your duffel. “Thanks guys. I’ll see you in the morning alright?” Chris replied before closing the door.

You ambled into the room some more, trying to steady your breathing. Anger now boiling through your body.

“Emilia what are you doing here? What happened?” Chris’ words broke through. You turned to face him, your chest starting to heave with shallow breaths.

His face showed that he was worried, but your mind refused to believe that. Chris started walking towards you and your arms reached out, pushing him back. “NO,” you yelled, “YOU DON’T GET TO COME NEAR ME!”

Shock appeared on his face, not knowing what you were talking about. “Baby” he stated before walking towards you again, only for you to push him back once more. His face quickly contorted from shock, to concern, to worried. “Emilia what the hell has gotten into you?” Chris questioned with frustration.

On impulse, you took the promise ring he had given you off your finger and threw it at his chest. “You promised me Chris!” you bellowed, trying to keep your voice strong but failing miserably as it croaked.

Chris was first at a loss for words once you threw your ring at him. He had no idea what you were talking about; why you were acting this way. His mind was trapped in a fog, trying to understand what you meant.

“Care to enlighten me?” he questioned, his irritation with you starting to show. All he wanted to do was help you; he hated seeing you in the state you were in. It broke his heart, but you kept pushing him away and he was getting frustrated.

Your face was grave as you responded to him, “You promised me you would always be there for me. Even if you were away. You said you were just a phone call away. But I TRIED calling you Chris and you DIDN’T ANSWER! I needed you so fucking bad and you weren’t there” your voice shrilled.

Chris sighed out as he folded his arms across his chest, his face tense. “You knew I would be here and that I couldn’t be on my phone. This is my job Emilia! I asked you if you wanted to come here with me and you said no, what else was I supposed to do?!” he questioned as his voice rose with anger.

Your knees buckled beneath you as your ass hit the bed; your breathing quickly picked up. He was right and you were wrong. You were always wrong. Why did you always try to pick fights? Why did it seem like you always wanted to sabotage relationships?

Your heart panged in your chest at the thought of Chris leaving you yet again. You didn’t want him to leave you, he meant everything to you. Glancing up, you caught his expression; he looked sullen. Was he starting to resent you?

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you sniffled. “I went to the hearing” you spoke quietly.

Chris’ body language changed from frustration, to alarming rather quickly. His eyes widened as he marched towards you. He crouched in front of you, taking your hands in his. “Baby why did you do that? You said you weren’t going to go. You shouldn’t have gone without me!” his voice taught.

“I know!” you croaked out, “I just needed to get closure.” You took in a shaky breath as his hands cupped your face, removing your tears. “He only got six months” you stated sadly.

Chris’ breath hitched in his throat at your words. He couldn’t believe it himself. How did that asshole only get six months? He beat you and almost killed you! “Fuck baby, come here” he uttered, wrapping you into his embrace. His hand gripped your hair as his other rubbed circles on your back. “I’m so sorry beautiful. That man deserves a harsher punishment than that.”

Between Chris rocking you back and forth, and his soothing gesture on your back, you almost fell asleep in his arms. But you couldn’t just yet. You had to apologize first. Breaking from his arms, you wiped the tears from your face as you took a glimpse at him. “I need to apologize Chris, for my actions,” you started off, “I was again way out of line. I shouldn’t have even come here and distracted you. I fucked up and I’m sorry. This is your job and I don’t want to mess that up. Can you forgive me?”

Chris’ eyes searched yours, his face doleful as if he was battling what to say. He seemed disappointed and your heart broke. “Yes Emilia, I forgive you. And while I’m not happy with you taking your ring off and throwing it at me, I am happy that you came here to see me. Alright?”

You nodded your head, unhappy with yourself and your behavior. Chris was disappointed in you and it broke your heart. You never wanted to disappoint him and yet, here you were.

The two of you showered and got ready for bed, even though it was still early, only 9:30pm. You sheepishly got under the covers of the king bed, staying close to the edge as you didn’t know just how disappointed Chris was with you. Maybe he needed a little bit of space.

You could hear him on the phone in the other room as you flipped through the television channels trying to find something to watch. He strutted into the bedroom of the suite, and got into bed with you. “Why are you so far away Emilia?” he questioned you, glancing in your direction as his eyebrows were raised.

You shrugged at him, your throat hurting too much from all the crying. He patted the spot next to him so you scooted closer. Chris’ arms wrapped around your shoulder, tucking you into his side. He placed a kiss onto your head before you heard him clear his throat. “Can I ask you something?” his inquired.

Immediately, your heart rate accelerated, not knowing what direction his question would go.

“Did you stop taking your medications?”

Your eyes shut tight at his question. You were going to tell him at some point, you just wanted to wait for the best time. Chewing on your lower lip, your hands fidgeted with themselves in your lap. Chris took notice of it and glanced down at your hands, your wrists exposed in the dim light of the television.

He shot up quickly and turned on the lamp before facing you again, gathering your hands into his and turning them over to see your wrists. “Emilia! What did you do?”

Tag List: @iamwarrenspeace @ssweet-empowerment @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @tacohead13 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @littlemissacorn @miss-cap21 @missfirstavenger @thedoctorscamanion @captainamerica-ce @pumbibaby @remember-that-one-blog @wildestdreamsrps @kanupps06 @zohoffman @-fuck-you-world- @geeksareunique @libbitinasdeath

#Chris Evans x OFC #Chris evans x reader #Chris Evans Fanfic #Chris Evans Fanfiction #Chris Evans Series #Chris Evans Angst #Chris Evans Fluff #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers Fanfiction #Steve Rogers Fanfic

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ourlady-ofsorrows · 5 years ago

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Against All Odds

(gif credit to the creators)

Chapter Nine

Masterlist

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OFC Word Count: 677 Warnings: language, blood A/N: I have been convinced to start posting my TWD fics, so here goes nothing. If you want to be tagged let me know. Also, feedback is cool :)

Summer’s POV

By the time the sun had risen we decided to bury our people and burn the walkers. It was no easy task, separating the dead from the dead. No one wanted the women to help, especially me, but after a heated spat with Daryl he agreed to let me help dig graves. Andrea was still bent over Amy’s body sobbing. I went over to talk to her.

“Andrea…” I started.

“Summer, don’t, just don’t,” she said. “We’ve made a burial sight,” I replied weakly.

“Shut up, okay?!” She shouted at me, “Get off your high horse! You have your family! You found your husband and you’re going to have a baby! Just leave me be! You don’t know what this is like!”

I could see Daryl glaring in our direction starting to walk over. I shot him a look that told him to leave it be and he went back to helping the men sort the bodies. I went back to digging graves. After hours of digging and sorting we were ready to start burying the bodies. By the time we were done there was only one empty grave. I was going to walk over to Andrea again but the gun shot rang out and I knew Amy had turned. It made me sick.

I had seen people turn before and I had killed plenty of walkers but it never got to the point that I had to watch someone I knew get bit and turn. I couldn’t process it. I was in shock to the point that I didn’t even realize Daryl moving me away from Amy’s grave so Andrea could dump her body. It was an emotional morning to say the least. We were all running on over 24 hours of no sleep and everyone was on edge.

“We have to leave here,” Rick said finally.

“And lose this stability?” Dale said.

“If you haven’t noticed our stability was gone last night,” Daryl spat right back at him.

“Daryl’s right,” Shane said, “we can’t stay here. Not now that we’ve been over run. The walkers have run out of food in the city. It’s only a matter of time before more come through.”

Everyone eventually came to agreement that we could no longer stay at the camp.

“Where will we go?” I asked absent mindedly rubbing my stomach.

“The CDC,” Rick said noticing my concern.

The baby would be here in a month’s time. I needed to get somewhere safe to have this child. Although, I wasn’t sure there was anywhere safe left in this world.

Within the next hour all the cars were packed up and we were on the road headed to the CDC. Our things were in Dale’s RV and I climbed on the back of Merle’s motorcycle that Daryl decided to take over and we headed toward the highway.

“You alright back there?” Daryl called to me a few miles into the drive.

“Better than ever,” I yelled back.

He knew I was telling the truth. I always loved when we went on bike rides. I saw him nod and we pressed on toward the CDC. When we finally arrived it looked like it was abandoned just like the rest of the world but that didn’t stop Rick from pounding on the door claiming that he saw the camera move. I guess he was right because a few minutes later, when we were all about to climb back into our cars, the door opened and we were greeted by a man who seemed to work there. He informed us to get our things now because once these doors closed they wouldn’t open again. We quickly ran out to our cars and gathered our things and followed the man inside, the door sealing behind us. Daryl grabbed my hand, obviously sensing my apprehension to this situation. He squeezed it trying to reassure me that it was going to be ok, but he knew better. He knew my intuition was usually right and I had a bad feeling about this place.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

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jrubalcaba · 7 years ago

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Precious Cargo Ch. 13 - The Departure

Precious Cargo Chapter 13 - The Departure

author: jrubalcaba

featuring: OFC Guinevere “Gwen” Adams x Bucky Barnes

word count: 1235 words

rating: PG

warnings: shooting, blood, cussing

A/N: You guys ready for a curve ball?. @avenger-nerd-mom gets yet another shout out for being my beta!

RING. RING. RING.

I don't remember setting my alarm last night. I opened my eyes and grabbed my phone. It wasn't the one going off, so I rolled over to see if Barnes was awake. He wasn't, but his phone kept ringing. I tried reaching over him to grab it, but I couldn't reach. So, as much as I didn't want to be near him, I got up and straddled his hip. That allowed me to grab his phone and upon seeing the caller ID, I hurriedly accepted the call.

“Morning Steve. No, he's still asleep.” I suddenly lurched sideways as Barnes rolled to his back and gazed up at me. I held my finger up as I continued listening to Steve. “You found them? Are they ok? Oh my god. That's amazing!” Barnes sat up suddenly and grabbed the phone from my hand, his metal one going to hold my hip.

“Steve what's going on?” His voice was gravely from sleep. “You guys found their parents? That's...great. So we have to come home? Oh. Ok. Well I guess we'll get everything packed up and head out. Bye.” He hung up and tossed his phone on the table. “We get to go home. Kinda sucks,” he said regretfully.

“Yeah, I bet you're really disappointed. You won't get to see your lady friend anymore,” I lamented. He frowned at me before I continued. “I'm sure if you wanted, you could move out here and see her all the time,” I spat at him, climbing off the bed so I could start packing. He groaned before getting off the bed as well.

“For the last time, nothing happened. Why on earth would I mess around with some stranger when I have you at home?” He argued. I shook my head as I pulled my shirt over my head and turned toward him. He gasped when he saw me in just my underwear. I chuckled before walking to the dresser.

“Beats me. Probably when you got tired of seeing this everyday. I hope she was worth it,” I snapped. I grabbed my clothes and stepped into the bathroom. After I was finished getting ready, I left to pack my clothes when I saw that he had already packed my suitcase for me. I walked out of the bedroom and I could hear him and Elliott talking in the little boy’s room. I went into Zoey’s room and started to wake her up. “Zoey. Zoey sweetie. It's time to wake up.” She stirred a bit before opening her eyes. “Zoey, guess what? Our friends found your mommy and daddy. You get to see them today.” She shot up and grinned, her eyes bright. She threw her arms around me and squeezed me tight. “Hurry and get ready because the faster we get ready, the faster we leave and see your mommy and daddy.” She scrambled off her bed and ran out the door into Elliott's room, where I heard her talk for the first time since they arrived.

“Ellwet, mommy daddy day!” She gleefully giggled and ran back into her room. I handed her the clothes I picked out and started packing the rest of her clothes up. After she was dressed, we went in the kitchen to grab a quick bite while Barnes loaded the suitcases in the suburban. As soon as we were done eating, we loaded up and headed out. Once we got into town, we pulled into the lone gas station and he got out and filled up the tank.

A black sedan pulled up in front of us by the other pump as Barnes was walking inside to pay. I could see three men inside, two up front and one in back, and the driver was staring me down. The man in the back seat happened to lean back and I caught a glimpse of a gun. I knew I had only seconds before shit went sideways.

“Elliott, Zoey, I need you to listen to me,” I began, trying not to call attention to the fact that I was chambering my handgun in my lap. “Elliott I need you to unbuckle yourself and Zoey and then get in the back seat, get down on the floor and hide under the blanket back there.” The men were getting out of the car and they were carrying rifles. “Do not move unless Bucky or I come get you. Stay down and do not get up, do you understand?” I never heard their answer because the men began shooting.

The kids started screaming and I looked back to see that they were scrambling into the back of the suburban. I couldn't see out the windshield directly in front of me , so I crawled over the center console into Bucky’s seat. I looked over and saw that one of the men was shooting toward the store, no doubt in an attempt to keep Bucky from coming to help. The other two men stopped to reload and I took the opportunity to kick open the door and begin shooting back. I shot the thug closest to me and he went down. The driver roared in anger and advanced on me, shooting me in the left shoulder a few times.

Motherfucker that hurt.

I slipped and fell to the ground, completely exposed as the driver rounded the front of the suburban, aiming right at me. “That was my brother, you fucking whore!” he yelled, spit flying from his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bucky’s shotgun poking out from under the seat. I could grab it, but I needed to distract this guy. “I guess being the Winter Soldier’s fucky buddy isn't all it's cracked up to be,” the thug taunted. I looked over his shoulder, pretending to be excited, and shouted the only thing I could think of.

“Bucky!” It worked. The man spun around to search for the non-existent threat and I yanked the shotgun out. I shut the safety off and cocked it, just as he was turning back towards me. “No, fuck you, buddy,” I retorted as I shot him twice in the chest, his blood splattering me. He was dead before he hit the ground, and I used his body as a cover to sit up and shoot the last man. After he fell down, I laid back, trying to come to terms with the fact that I had just killed three men with Elliott and Zoey in the car. I heard footsteps pounding across the parking lot before Bucky appeared above me, looking terrified as he dropped to his knees at my side.

“Gwen! Oh my god Gwen! Are you ok? Talk to me!” I've never heard him sound so scared before. “Oh shit! You've been shot! Those fuckers! Jesus there's a lot of blood!” I tried to lift my left arm, but that wasn't going to happen, so I raised my right arm and grabbed his hand.

“Bucky, it's ok. It's not just my blood. I shot him,” I mumbled. His metal hand came down and grabbed my shoulder, applying pressure. “Ow,” I groaned while he checked my pulse.

“It's getting weak. The medics should be here soon. Just hang on babe,” he assured me. That was the last thing I remember him saying before Bucky and the world around me faded to black.

Chapter 14

TAG LIST:

@avenger-nerd-mom @bolontiku @brighterlights @buckyappreciationsociety @buckyywiththegoodhair @caplanbuckybarnes @delicatecapnerd @disappointedwithchrisevans-post @donnaintx @etts21 @ghostssss @handshugging @imsecretlyromanburki @jhangelface0523 @just-call-me-mrs-captain @kimistry27, @liz-pbnz @magellan-88 @marvel-trash07 @melodyhiddleston, @papi-chulo-bucky @pegasusdragontiger @ryverpenrad @sketchbookthingz @suz-123

#precious cargo #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes #gwen adams #jrubalcaba

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peskipixi · 8 years ago

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The University - Chapter 14

TITLE: The University CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: Chapter 14 of (probably) 15 AUTHOR: Peskipixi WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Tom character - Jonathan Oakley GENRE: Smut/Romance FIC SUMMARY: OFC Rosalita runs a very special institution of learning, and meets young Jonathan when he signs up for classes. Rosa knows from the moment that she lays eyes on him that this one is special… RATING: Smut/18+ WARNINGS: Angst, Violence...

AUTHOR’S NOTES: I know ... it’s been eons... I’m so sorry, bad writer. Anyhoo, here’s what is possibly the penultimate chapter of this story, if anyone’s still interested. I would recommended re-reading Chapter 13 (or the last bit) just to catch up from where we were. As always, feedback, constructive criticism and reblogs and likes are appreciated! Love you all!

Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Chapter 14

Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering of his heart. He needed to think. Chaos swirled in his mind, panic fluttering around the edges of his thoughts, threatening to engulf and smother him. He closed his eyes, going completely still, pushing the panic away and focusing his mind.

“Celise.” He said quietly, bending over and bringing his face close to hers. She didn’t react, he eyes glazed and wet, her breath coming in short gasps.

“CELISE!” He shouted, grabbing her arms and giving her a little shake. She seemed to snap out of it and her eyes focused on his face.

“Where did they take her, Celise?”

She sniffled, but answered in a wavering voice. “I don’t…. I don’t know. They took the service elevator…”

“Shit.” Jonathan swore under his breath, dragging a trembling hand through his hair and rubbing it down over his mouth. His thoughts were all over the place, skittering wildly around the jagged edges of the panic that was steadily growing.

“Mr. Oakley… Could you untie me? Please?” Celise said, bringing him back to reality.

“Oh yes, of course, I’m so sorry.”

He went to work on the ropes tying her hands to the arm rests, then moved on to her ankles tied to the chair legs. When he was done, he straightened and helped her out of the chair. She wiped her eyes in the careful way women do when wearing mascara and put on a brave if slightly watery smile.

“Are you okay, are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, touching soft fingers to the small cut on her forehead.

“No, I’m okay, thanks….” Jonathan nodded grimly, giving her arms a squeeze.

“Good girl. We should phone the police,” he said, pulling his phone out of his trouser pocket.

“Yes, yes of course,” she agreed.

Jonathan keyed the number in and paced as the phone rang on the other side, walking towards the large picture window behind the reception desk, staring out at the city without really seeing it. He waited impatiently, willing someone to answer, concentrating hard on the seemingly endless ringing on the other side. He only noticed the stealthy movement behind him from the corner of his eye before a he felt a sharp sting at the side of his neck. Instinctively, he reached for the source of the pain, and removed a syringe from his neck. He stared at it incredulously before it dropped out of his rapidly numbing fingers. His last awareness before everything went black was puzzlement tinged with regret.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jonathan came awake slowly, hearing his own harsh breathing and wincing at the dull throbbing in his head. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the textured blackness of cloth. His thoughts were sluggish, fighting their way through the fog in his brain. He realised that there must be a hood of some kind over his head. He tried to move his arms, but they were tied securely behind his back. His brain slowly caught up and he remembered. Rosa.

Panic threatened to engulf him again and he pulled hard against the restraints.

“He’s awake, darling.”

It was a woman’s voice. A familiar woman’s voice. Jonathan heard footsteps coming closer. The hollow click clack of heels told him it was a woman. He blinked as sudden light assaulted his eyeballs when the hood was ripped off. When his eyes got a bit accustomed, he looked up at the woman who was standing in front of him. He had to crane his neck, tilting his head back to see her face she was standing so close, crowding into his personal space. He saw her eyes widen fractionally in surprise when after a few seconds of staring at her, he laughed. His laughter echoed through the large space around them until he finally hiccupped to silence. The woman stared down her nose at him, her face haughty and almost expressionless, trying to hide her anger.

“You think this is a joke, Jonathan?” She asked coldly.

Jonathan pretended to think about the question, then answered, all levity gone from his voice.

“Chantelle. How utterly charming to see you.” He licked his dry lips, before continuing. “To answer your question, no. I know this is no joke. I just hadn’t realised how desperate you are to hold on to something that never really belonged to you.”

He grinned again, but he could feel the hatred and fury bubbling inside him.

“Because we both know that he would spin in his grave if Biopros ever fell into your hands.”

He watched as her face morphed from cold and controlled to ugly with rage. The slap surprised him, whipping his head to one side as her palm connected with his cheek hard. He tasted blood from where his teeth cut into his cheek and spat the blood out, missing her patent leather Manolo Blahniks by an inch.

“You…. You little….” She searched for words, rendered speechless with rage. “You deserve NOTHING! How dare you…”

A movement caught Jonathan’s eye and he turned his head towards it. He felt his stomach drop and the blood drain from his face when he saw the woman striding towards them. She wore a small smug smile, and as she reached Chantelle, she twined her arms around the other woman’s neck and kissed her cheek.

“Celise…” Jonathan breathed as the pieces of the puzzle dropped into place in his mind. He watched as Chantelle turned her head to kiss Celise, their tongues dancing obscenely and hands roaming over each other. They were clearly lovers, and had to have been for quite some time. When the kiss finally ended, Celise turned to Jonathan, her arm still around Chantelle.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Oakley? Surprised?” She uttered a short bitter laugh. “When I discovered who you were, months ago, I knew that if I could bide my time, I could help my darling get what she wanted.”

Chantelle was looking at him, her eyes hard and her mouth curled in a triumphant little smile.

“So I watched you fall in love with that slut that calls herself my boss like a hormonal teenager, and suddenly I knew how to do it. How to get to you. How to hit you where it really hurts.”

She chuckled out a brittle laugh as she walked a few paces to his left, and continued speaking, the gloating thick in her voice.

“You love her, don’t you? She’s nothing but a whore with a larger pricetag, you know that, don’t you? She who has been with hundreds of men, ‘teaching’ them. Ha. And you fell for it. Head over heels. You see, Chantelle has told me everything, from the very beginning. How you wormed your way into the family, how you pretended to love your “father”, so that you could get your filthy paws on what rightfully belongs to his wife. How he ended up leaving everything to you, a little worm of a boy. You deserve NOTHING.”

While Celise spoke, Chantelle took out her phone, pressed a button and put the phone to her ear, her eyes never leaving his.

“Bring her in.” She said shortly, and ended the call.

Jonathan felt nauseous as the silence stretched, his heart in his throat. He heard a car door slam outside, and seconds later the metallic clanging of a door being opened. Two large men entered, dragging a semi-conscious Rosalita between them, her bare feet half-dragging across the dirty concrete floor, her head hanging low, and her hair falling over her face in stringy tendrils. The one man he was sure he had never seen before. The other, when he looked at him sharply, averted his face, but not before Johnathan saw something flicker in his eyes. Jonathan felt the fury build in his chest, threatening to engulf him. They stopped a few feet in front of him and let Rosa’s arms go, causing her to fall in a heap at Chantell’s feet. Chantell stepped away, looking down her nose at the pathetic bundle moving weakly on the floor.

“Now, Jonathan, you are a clever boy, but I’ll make it simple anyway. On Wednesday, you will make the announcement that you are signing over Biopros Inc. to me in entirety. You will give up any and all power you have, to me, and you will vanish. You will never contact anyone on the staff, or anyone from your old life again.”

Jonathan stared at her, flicking his eyes to Rosalita every few seconds, wishing with all his heart that he could hold her, comfort her. The rage was boiling inside him, making it hard to think. But something surfaced, totally unrelated to Chantell’s little speech, and without thinking, he gave it voice.

“You killed Aubrey, didn’t you?” he grated out between clenched teeth. “you killed him because he was in your way.”

It was more a statement than a question. Chantelle laughed that brittle sounding laugh again, and Celise looked at her adoringly, smiling as if she had just told a particularly cute joke.

“Of course I did, you stupid boy. He was a liability, the only person I knew I was never going to turn against you. He was so…” she waved her fingers vaguely in the air “…so protective of you. He loooved you.” She cackled as she emphasised the word. Then, she walked closer, putting her face right up to his.

“And you know what the fun part was? I killed him myself. I waited in his car, and I grabbed him from behind. I watched the life drain from his eyes, blinked out like a light.”

Jonathan lunged at her, yanking at his bonds, his teeth bared as he snarled like an animal. Spittle mixed with blood hit her cheek and she stepped away, wiping at her face and staring at him with a smirk.

“I am going to kill you. I don’t care how, and I don’t care when. But I will. End. You.”

The coldness in his voice surprised even Jonathan, and he realised, just as he saw the same realisation dawn in her eyes, that he was dead serious. Somehow, he was going to rid the world of the disease that is Chantelle Bryanson-Oakley.

A small noise drew their attention back to Rosa again.

“As I was saying….” Chantelle continued, looking down at Rosa with derision, and then turning her eyes to Jonathan again, “you will sign over the company to me, and your precious little whore walks free.” She circled Rosa like a shark, her heels clacking on the concrete. “I can’t of course promise that she will be completely unspoiled. I did promise my men a reward for their faithful service.”

Jonathan just glared at her, the murder that he swore plain in his eyes.

With a suddenness that caught him unaware, Chantell pulled back her foot and kicked her pointed designer shoe into Rosa’s stomach with a violence that took his breath and made Rosa whimper and curl into a ball.

“Should you choose to go through with your plan to take over the company…. Well, let’s just say, things will go very badly for your little whore here. She will be thoroughly used before I finally let her die.”

Walking away from them, she spoke over her shoulder.

“I will give you the night to think about it. Tomorrow morning at sunrise, you will give me your answer.”

With a spiteful look at both Jonathan and Rosa, Celise followed Chantell. The two burly henchmen moved forward and the one (that Johnathan thought he’d seen before) picked Rosa up bodily form the floor and flung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift with a grunt, the other moved behind Jonathan, untying him from the chair but leaving his hands tied. The man planted his large hand between Johnathan’s shoulder blades and shoved, making him stumble as he was forced further into the warehouse-like structure.

They ended up in a small room with a thick steel door and a tiny window at about head height. There was a pile of boxes in the corner and not much else besides the bare floor and stained walls. It smelled of urine and mildew. The moment the steel door slammed and locked behind them, Jonathan rushed over to Rosa where she had crumpled against the wall. He lowered himself carefully against the wall beside her, trying to check for injuries. When he could see none except a few cuts and bruises, he just he just pressed his shoulder against her, trying to give her any comfort he could. Pressing his lips to her hair, he whispered over and over again:

“I am so sorry darling. I am so, so sorry.”

Jonathan jerked awake, knocking his head on the wall as he tried to orientate himself. It came back in a rush, the kidnapping, Chantelle and Celise being behind it all, and of course their predicament. He stretched out his legs, trying to get some feeling back in them, then moved his shoulders carefully, wincing as sharp pain shot through his shoulders from being tied up so long. As he rolled his shoulders as much as his position allowed, Rosa stirred next to him, groaning, her eyes fluttering open and focusing on him. He looked down on her, feeling his throat close up. She had a black eye, her lip was split and dried blood caked in her hairline where a gash had bled profusely. And it was all his fault.

“Jonathan…” she whispered, her voice croaky from thirst and disuse.

He leant down and kissed her hair again.

“Rosa, I am so sorry… How are you feeling?”

Pinching her eyes closed, Rosa got into an upright position, wincing visibly. When she was sitting upright, she pushed her hair out of her face and looked at him, giving him a brave but watery smile, then planting a soft kiss on his lips.

“Jonathan, this is the fault of a deranged, dangerous bitch, not yours. Do not apologise for something you had no control over.”

“But …” he started, but she interrupted him, placing a finger on his lips.

“Let’s focus on how we’re going to get out of here. Can you turn around? I’ll untie you.”

Jonathan shuffled around until his back was to her, giving her access to the ropes winded around his wrists. Rosa picked at the knots, prying at them to ty to get them off. Finally, the ropes fell away, and with a relieved groan Jonathan moved his arms, rubbing at his wrists where the skin was chafed raw.

“Thank you.” He told her, taking her face in his hands and leaning his forehead against hers. “Let’s see if we can get out of here.”

Jonathan and Rosa both got up, and after stretching their limbs and finding their balance, started making their way around their prison. The small room offered nothing except the deadlocked metal door and the small high window. Jonathan pulled on the door with all his might, but gave up soon after, realising that it was futile. He tried to reach the small window, and he could, but they would never fit through it. Feeling discouraged, they leant against the wall, next to each other, staring at the opposite wall.

“I guess we’re stuck until Chantelle comes back…” Jonathan said.

His eye fell on the pile of boxes in the corner. He decided to investigate, thinking that maybe there was something useful hidden in the garbage. At the very bottom of the heap, against the wall, he found a piece of brandering wood, about an inch and a half wide on both sides, and about as long as his arm. He felt his spirits lift. As a weapon, it didn’t offer much, but it was better than nothing. Turning to Rosa, he showed her the piece of wood, grinning back at her as the first real smile since their ordeal started played on her mouth. He watched as her expression changed suddenly, her eyes going wide and the small smile draining away to be replaced by a look of fear. She cocked an ear, holding up one finger.

“Someone’s coming!” She whispered, moving closer to Jonathan instinctively.

Jonathan listened, hearing the scuffle of feet outside the door. He motioned for Rosa to sit down again across the door, and after a whispered argument, she complied, leaning against the wall in a heap, trying to look as if she was still unconscious. Jonathan moved to the left of the door, so as to be behind it when it opened.

The footsteps came closer, and Jonathan held his breath, the adrenalin surging through his body, making his muscles thrum with energy. He was ready for whomever came through that door. It was their only chance. Rosa looked at him, her eyes wide with fear, but her mouth set in a determined line. Finally, the person or persons they had heard reached the door, and there was a jingle of keys. Jonathan lifted the piece of wood, hefting it over his shoulder, ready to strike. The door opened, and a man stepped in. Jonahtan surged forward, bringing the plank around in a wide arc, aiming for the other man’s head. Somehow, everything slowed down, and Jonathan watched with a kind of curious detachment as the plank sailed through the air, waiting for the thud of wood and the crunch of bone.

At the last second, the man turned, his eyes widening and his arm coming up, deflecting the shot aimed at his head and grunting in surprise and pain. Jonathan staggered forward with the impetus of the move, and crashed into the man, who grabbed him, ripping the piece of wood from his hand and throwing it in the corner. They grappled, going down, grabbing and clawing and each trying to get the upper hand. The man was huge, a muscled mass of fury and force, and eventually, he pinned Jonathan, sitting on top of him, closing his large hands around his throat. Jonathan felt his air supply being cut off, choking on the pressure around his neck. He scrabbled ineffectually at the iron grip around his throat, his heels kicking on the concrete as he tried to dislodge the man.

His vision started to blur, and he tried lifting a knee to kick at the man, but he was completely pinned. Slowly, he started to realise that he was going to lose this. He was not only going to lose the fight, his freedom, his life, but also the love of his life. His last thought as the darkness closed in, was of Rosa. Of how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, no matter how, no matter where. Then, as if my some miracle, Rosa appeared. He wondered mildly whether it was a trick of his consciousness, that she was conjured up for him to see just before he went under.

Then, the blackness overwhelmed him. He felt his eyelids close, his hands falling to his sides. Noise and vision and pain all vanishing as he fell and fell into the darkness. His last thought was that it was easier than he had ever thought, dying. Except for leaving Rosa.

That was the hard part.

#tom hiddleston #fan fiction #fanfic #series #the university #mine

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animarosa · 8 years ago

Text

Chapters: 5/? [ <PREVIOUS | NEXT> ]

Rating: M

Warnings: None.

Pairing: Percival Graves (real)/OFC

Summary: Percival Graves’ life took a turn for the worse. Everything he worked for was abruptly pulled from under his feet, his life stolen by the dark wizard Grindelwald. Though the path to recovery promises to be long and tedious, he gradually finds solace in a fellow survivor of Grindelwald’s nefarious actions. However, Graves soon finds out that, though Grindelwald may be locked up, his machinations are all but over.

Chapter 5: Echo

Constance knew this day was going to be anything but disastrous the moment she stepped outside of her apartment and was met with a pair of aurors. The lot excused themselves and went over explaining that she was a suspect as an accessory in the attempted murder of Percival Graves and she would need to come with them for further investigation. Peachy . Oh, and they would have to search her apartment. Smashing.

With the recent events in the states and MACUSA’s huge security breach by Grindelwald, she was not at all surprised. Especially given her history with the dark wizard…It was only a matter of time, she thought, before she was interrogated all over again. Though she wasn’t sure what more she could add. In nearly 10 years she had not learned anything new about Grindelwald. All she knew and all she experienced and suffered, they already knew.

So it was that she found herself sitting alone in an interrogation room at MACUSA Headquarters, waiting for her interrogator. Crossing her arms across her chest, she tapped her foot impatiently. It was all like déjà vu. The memory of her arrival to America 9 years ago was still fresh in her mind. The moment she had arrived all those years ago she was met in customs by aurors expecting her and she was escorted to MACUSA for confirmation on her testimony and story provided by the Ministry of Magic. Yet again, she figured, she was here once more to explain the events that ultimately led to her emigration, escaping her native England to start a new life, away from the chaos caused by Grindelwald in Europe.

The door opened then and Constance glanced over her shoulder to see the Interim Director of Magical Security walk in. Offering a smug smile, Agnes walked around Constance to sit across from her, setting a folder and her wand down before her on the table. She remained quiet for a moment as she opened the folder, eyeing the first page with Constance’s identifying information.

“So, you are Constance Mei-Fen Huang,” Agnes paused then, offering a vague imitation of an apologetic smile when she continued, “Oh sorry, or is it still Constance Havel?”

Constance stared at her, her sharp and angular features unwavering and wholly unamused. “My marriage has been annulled for 10 years, Mrs. Abbott. It is Huang.”

Pursing her lips, the interrogating witch gave several quick nods, eyeing the mediwitch suspiciously. “Right, right. So, says here you’re 38, studied in Hogwarts, went on to become a healer-trainee at St. Mungo’s, you’re from Leeds, England–far away from home aren’t we?”

The healer sighed and cocked her head to the side, her expression still quite unamused. “Madam, with all due respect, the pleasantries don’t interest me, and I’m sure they don’t interest you either,” Constance deadpanned, hands tightening over each other on her lap. “Just ask me what you actually must ask me.”

“Hm, right to the point then?” Agnes offered a smug smirk, nodding and resting her forearms against the table, fingers interlocking. “Very well. Do you know why you were cited here today?”

“I wasn’t cited, I was escorted from my home,” calmly did she correct the Interim Director, yet there was a scathing edge to the grave tone of her voice. “But yes, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” she repeats, almost mockingly, her brow rising almost up to her hairline. “Tell me, why would you intervene with Mr. Burke’s attempted poisoning of Mr. Graves?”

Giving her an incredulous look, she asks, “Why? He’s my patient, of course I was to protect him. Would you have had me let him be killed?”

“Well, if you did have suspicions of your trainee, why didn’t you contact MACUSA then? Or even hospital security?”

“I didn’t think my bad hunch would be true,” closing her eyes momentarily, she paused to let out a slow breath, considering her words and trying not to let exasperation win her over, she continued, “I didn’t want it to be true. I was wrong, I know, I said this already in my initial statement. But I had no evidence in my favor except his strange behavior that morning and now you have my magical eye as solid evidence. Plus the culprit bottle with its foul liquid. What more do you want? Why would I save Mr. Graves if, as you’re suggesting, I actually wanted to hurt him?”

Almost as if she didn’t hear anything she said, she diverted the conversation with another question, “Speaking of which, where did you get the eye?”

“A gift from my late grandmother.”

“Hmm,” looking quite unimpressed, Agnes continued eyeing Constance’s file before she stared up at her again. “These are dangerous times, Miss Huang. Even with Grindelwald in prison we cannot let our guard down, especially after he infiltrated our forces the way he did,” she sighs, laying back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “So, you do understand why, even if you were a victim of Grindelwald once, there is a bit of reasonable doubt that you may actually be, how do we say–” she glanced away then, hand waving about, pretending to search for the word she needed with unnecessary drama, finally saying, “–a sleeper agent.”

Taken aback, Constance’s brow contorted with both mortification and confusion, shaking her head. “That is ridiculous,” she pointed at the MACUSA file with her gathered information, going on, “You must have read my statements. There’s copy of them from the Ministry in there. Did you even read them? Merlin’s beard, I testified against his supporters in Great Britain before the Wizengamot,” she stared back at her defiantly, eyes wide with incredulity. It was becoming hard to keep calm and serene when this woman was looking for a sliver of the slightest suspicion, making impossible stories out of them just to lock her up...or worse.

“Hmm. You’re acting as if what happened last night just doesn’t seem to be reason for me to be suspicious of anyone with a history with Grindelwald, innocent or not,” she rose her brow questioningly, pouting out her lower lip.

She paused, brow slowly furrowing, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Last night? The attempted poisoning was two nights prior, not last night.

“Wait...what happened last night?” Constance asked carefully, voice almost a whisper, as if afraid to find out a dreadful truth.

Agnes guffawed, holding a hand out, inspecting her expressions closely. “You honestly don’t know or are you playing stupid? Didn’t you read the paper this morning? It’s all the chatter.”

“With all due respect, Madam , I had aurors at my door this morning before I could receive my copies of the Boston Seer and New York Ghost,” her nostrils were flaring now, eyes unwavering, boring a hole into the redhead’s skull.

“Right,” she scoffed, shaking her head before she went on, “Well, two supporters of Grindelwald somehow broke out of Azkaban last night,” with a flick of her wand she conjured up her copy of the New York Ghost, presenting it to the healer. “Three supporters which you–” she pointed at Constance, “–testified against.”

Constance’s face lost all color, horror slowly overtaking her features when a cold sweat took her, eyes wide and unmoving for a moment. There, on the front page of the New York Ghost, were two faces whom she clearly recognised, staring back at her madly, a cruel reminder of what she had endured all those years ago.

“Is this a joke to you?” she choked out the words, breathing harshly while trying to control her raging and conflicting emotions. “If anything you should be offering me protection, these men know my face! I testified against them, I led the Ministry aurors to them! How does any of this translate to me being a supporter of Grindelwald secretly trying to murder one of my patients?!”

Agnes shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed. “Perhaps you want him to trust you so fully so at the most opportune moment you may strike. Not necessarily kill him but to keep using him for Grindelwald’s purposes.”

“Do you bloody well hear yourself?” Constance glared now, shaking her head, unbelieving that this woman could be either so dense as to make these assumptions, or so cruel and power-hungry as to want to seem like the hero who took action against anything barely suspicious. “You are grasping at straws that aren’t even there, that is the most convoluted motivation I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Miss Huang,” Agnes stated, bringing her hands up to her chin, resting it on her knuckles while keeping her steely blue gaze on Constance. “Out of any person that could have treated Mr. Graves, it was you, a former victim of Grindelwald’s that ended up with his care. How convenient, no?”

“This may seem surprising but I am not the only victim of that vile man who has come to this country to escape and start a new life,” she spat back, ready to defend herself, “If you actually put your intel gathering to good use you would see that there are many of us victims who have arrived to your jurisdiction since Grindelwald began his movement. We just never thought it would expand beyond Europe.”

“So you’ve met other victims besides Mr. Graves? Really?” she chuckled, head shaking in disbelief.

“Let me be clearer, Madam Interim Director,” she emphasized the word ‘interim’ so as to remind her that her post was not permanent–and oh how it tickled her to see the redhead’s eyes twitch at that. “I specialised not just in spell damage but in counter-curses and curse damage to help other victims who were hurt like I was. I became head of my department not long ago, I have been personally taking as many difficult cases of people personally affected by curses. For the last nine years of my life I’ve been dedicated not only continuing to offer my services as a healer but trying to improve upon the understanding of long-lasting damages curses leave on witches and wizards. So you are right,” with each statement her tone grew more scathing, until she willed herself to calm, speaking more evenly now, softly even. “It is not a coincidence. I do actively seek to help any witch or wizard extensively hurt and damaged by curses and dark wizards.”

Percival and Tina apparated not far from the Woolworth Building, striding quickly towards it before the senior auror grabbed his protegé by the upper arm, stopping her in her tracks. Quizzically she looked up at him just as he explained himself.

“Tina, go about your business now, I’ll take it from here,” he urged her, releasing her and stepping around her when she protested.

“But, Mr. Graves, sir–”

“You can’t be seen with me, alright?” he answered, turning back to her, eyes pleading silently with her. “I don’t want you getting into trouble. For all you know, I saw myself out of the hospital myself and you didn’t tell me Madam Huang was taken into interrogation. Got it?”

Defeated, she let out a sigh and nodded, meeting his stern gaze, “...Yes, sir, I understand,” when he began stepping away she called out, “Will you be alright?” and received a blank stare as response before he quirked one of his eyebrows dramatically. “Right. Alright. I’ll stay alert for any news, though!”

“Thank you, Tina,” he said quickly, truly appreciatively despite his barely changing tone of voice. “We’ll speak later. Now go,” he waved her away when she hesitated and he walked towards the entrance. “Go.”

Graves walked up to the doorman confidently despite his still lingering mild limp. Despite his slightly longer hair, his undercut grown in, and short-trimmed beard, he was instantly recognized.

“Marcus,” he deadpanned in greeting, taking out his MACUSA ID card just in case.

“Director Graves!” the doorman gasped, “What are you–”

“I was discharged today. I’ve business with Mrs. Abbott.”

Marcus nodded but almost instantly visibly flinched, looking to Graves with regret in his eyes. The younger man excused himself before ushering Graves inside, away from No-Maj prying eyes. He’d explained that he would need to make sure it was actually him. Graves was in no position to fight or argue, he had to keep going. Sighing in resignation, he nodded and Marcus used the Revelio spell on him. It did nothing, of course, but it was none the less pleasant when it coursed through his body.

The moment he was cleared he stalked quickly towards the lower levels. Gasps and fingers were pointed when several people caught sight of him. Questions caught his ear from afar, people talking amongst themselves as to why he was back so soon and whether he had already recovered. Then the nasty ones who thought he hadn’t heard, speaking ill of him and his loss against Grindelwald. That one stung yet he willingly shut them out. He was here, after all, for entirely different reasons, he had to focus. Passing quickly by his office without much of a glance or wondering how Agnes had changed it to fit her needs, the man continued down into the next floor, finally upon the interrogation rooms.

One of his aurors had just stepped out of one of the rooms, and he stalked towards him in an instant. The man jumped in place, eyes wide and a hand instinctively flying to his wand pocket before relaxing it.

“Mr. Graves, what are you doing here, I thought you were–”

Holding his hand up for silence, Graves quickly interceded, firm and direct, “Can it, Knibbs, just tell me where Agnes is.”

“Um, uh, why are you asking–”

“Damnit all, Knibbs, you and all the fucking department owes me for not noticing a dark wizard impersonating me,” he seethed, eyes boring a hole through the other man’s skull. “I thought everyone here was damned capable of detecting an–”

“Alright, alright!” Knibbs held his hands up in defeat, letting out a long sigh. “Room 3, sir...I’m so–” and with that Graves was gone, walking around him, not even letting him finish. “–rry…We’re in deep shit when he comes back to work…”

Graves was upon the room in no time, not even bothering to knock. No sooner that he opened the door all eyes were on him. Agnes glared in disbelief while Constance stared in shock, eyes wide and questioning.

“Graves, what the hell are you doing here?!” she was on her feet instantly. Grabbing her wand, she suddenly pointed it at Graves, exclaiming, “ Revelio !”

Once more the spell shook through him, causing him to bend over in discomfort. “Damnit, Abbott, it’s the actual me,” he huffed, letting out a cough suddenly. “Then again you wouldn’t fucking know.”

Graves walked further into the room, standing before the table between the two women. It was hard to avoid Constance’s glare, he noticed, whom had kept her eyes on him like a hawk, still bewildered by his presence. He thought he was beginning to understand what healer Magendie meant when he said Constance was to be feared when she was angry.

“Mr. Graves, what in bloody Merlin’s burning pants are you doing here?!” she asked in agitation, gripping the edge of the table tightly, eyes still on him. “Did Magendie discharge you? Without giving you your last two doses of the counter-curse potion?”

He shook his head and answered, “No, I signed myself off,” he deadpanned, deciding against going into detail for now. Turning his gaze to Abbott instead, his glare returned, poised on the redhead. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. His gaze caught the folder before Abbott, his eye twitching when he noticed the small picture of Constance on the first page along with identifying information–wait, why did she have a file with MACUSA? Was it because she was an immigrant? Despite this, he still went on speaking with what was originally on his mind, “Abbott, I’m not gonna let you do your stunts of throwing just about anyone in jail based on mind bending speculations.”

“Whether you like it or not I’m pulling your weight here while you finish your damn recovery,” she spat, leaning back on the chair and crossing her arms over her chest when she continued, “I’m not about to be known as the Interim Director who was too soft and merciful in the face of all this fuckin’ disaster, Graves.”

Percival groaned in frustration. “Damnit, Abbott, there’s a difference between soft and outright turning into an inquisitor!”

There was a moment of silence as Agnes regarded Graves, narrowing her eyes at him dangerously. Constance could only look between the two, unsure of what to do or say, deciding to play it safe and stay quiet for the moment–she needn’t add fuel to the fire. As it was, she was already in deep shit, no need to make her situation worse.

“Since you went through all the trouble here and you’re so adamant on defending your healer, then stay. But perhaps you should know she has ties to Grindelwald,” Agnes huffed, smirking triumphantly when Percival frowned in confusion, his demeanour changing, face dropping with disappointment. “Oh yes. I’m not questioning her just for fun, after all. It’s not just because she happened to have the worst trainee.”

A lump rose to his throat, doubt setting in his mind when he heard Agnes, feeling betrayed, in a way. After all, he had gone through all this trouble to come over here and defend her, and it turns out she has ties to Grindelwald? He frowned, disheartened, betrayed, fearful of knowing more. Constance was looking to him with concern, seemingly wishing to speak but afraid to do so, yet he avoided her gaze. He couldn’t look at her. How could he trust again? He couldn’t trust, no he couldn’t, he’d made a terrible mistake…No. The reasonable side of his mind screamed at him. This was Agnes, he reminded himself, this was Agnes , he needed the proof not her word for it. So he looked to the open file before her instead.

“This concerns you doesn’t it? I saw the way you looked at it. Go ahead, look about,” Agnes smirked, closing the file and sliding it over to Graves.

Constance leaned forward towards Percival, trying to grab his attention. There was hesitance in her movements, her brow pulled with worry.

“Mr. Graves…” her voice wavered, heavy with fear of what he might think of her. Yes, the truth was in that file and yes, she thought Graves was far more reasonable than Agnes but...she couldn’t be so sure of that truly. How could he after all he went through? After his trauma with Grindelwald’s imprisonment and his impersonation, Constance figured his mind would not be the same Graves she had seen on the newspapers before, so confident, stoic, and reasonable. A man known for being cold and calculating but level-headed and fair. For all she knew, now Agnes’ convoluted story may make sense to him now. She would know, after all, it took her so long to trust anyone again after her ordeal with Grindelwald all those years ago. “Mr. Graves, I wanted to tell you–”

He held his hand up for silence, avoiding her pleading gaze. However, he frowned when he saw the ink stamp on the front that read ‘GRINDELWALD CASE FILES: VICTIMS’. Wait...Victim? For a moment his gaze rose to Constance’s, softening for the slightest of moments, sympathetic even, silently asking: you too? The wizard began to scan quickly through the documents before him. He chastised himself for his quick presumptions when Agnes said Constance had ties to Grindelwald. The doubt that had initially set in subsided, instead he eventually brought a hand over his mouth in shock the further he read. However, to the others watching, it didn’t look as shock but an attempt to contain disgust, perhaps directed at Constance. Yes, he was disgusted, but not with Madam Huang. Finally, he looked to Constance again, his brown eyes apologetic, gaining a confused stare from the healer.

Agnes reached over and pulled the file from Graves hands. “Well, you’re a quick reader. Let’s finish hearing what she has to say.”

“What else do you want me to say?” Constance narrowed her gaze at Agnes, shaking her head in disbelief.

“...She’s a victim why are you hounding her?” Percival instantly piped in, his tone grave and accusing while he stared down Agnes.

“Because not all may be as it seems!” she waved her hands about, eyes wide, looking bewildered. A thought occurred to her then, figuring this was what would give her the evidence and perhaps a hint of a confession she needed–or rather, wanted. Bringing her hands together and interlocking her fingers once more, she leaned forward against the table’s edge, staring firmly at Constance when she asked, “Perhaps, you would like to tell us about Rhys Havel?”

Constance was quiet, her gaze turning into an outright glare, eyes glossing over with unshed tears. Percival interceded again before she could say anything.

“Abbott, I have eyes, I read the report...” he sighed in exasperation, wishing for this to end, for Agnes to stop and see reason. From what he read, he figured talking of that man would only upset Constance, more than she already was. There really was no need for this.

“And? Don’t you see? It’s a convenient story for a sleeper agent, no?” she looked to him as if he was a fool for not understanding.

“On what are you basing this?” he asked.

“Are you paying attention? It’s the perfect alibi! How damn convenient that she was set to be your healer!” she laughed mockingly.

Constance’s glare had not subsided, glued on Agnes still. The redhead took notice and put her attention back on the healer, ignoring Percival.

“Perhaps you should tell him the part where I told you I specialized in dealing with counter-curses and victims of dark wizards after my own damned experience with Grindelwald,” Constance expressed practically through gritted teeth, exasperated. “This would obviously make me more than likely to take his case, I’m head of my department!”

“Can’t imagine you were so hurt in your experience as you healed Grindelwald on numerous occasions,” Agnes scoffed, “Him and his goons, no?”

“Under the Imperius curse, yes,” Constance retorted firmly.

“Ah yes, the convenient excuse.”

“Abbott, you need to stop,” Percival insisted once more.

“Not just yet,” she waved him away. “Let’s get back to what I was asking. About Rhys, yes? You must miss him, hm? So far away, in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors,” Agnes’ lips contorted into a smug grin.

Constance narrowed her eyes, leering in disbelief, “Miss him? Miss him? Do you know what he did to me, Mrs. Abbott?”

Percival took a step back, glancing from Constance to Agnes, his eyes all but telling the redhead ‘you asked for this’ when Constance discharged her anger on her.

“Nothing,” her lips quivered, glaring at Agnes, unblinking. “He did nothing. He did nothing –” she nearly spat the word, her tone venomous, “–when Grindelwald used the Imperius curse on me to force me to heal him. He did nothing when Grindelwald tortured me with the Cruciatus curse when I defied him. He did nothing when I had to heal people that Grindelwald tortured to keep them from dying, only for the bastard to torture them all over again. Those people who begged me to kill them just so they could stop suffering...but I couldn’t and I wouldn’t. He did nothing but watch and beg me–” she guffawed bitterly, angry tears escaping her eyes, “–begged me to cooperate. Because, Mrs. Abbott, how could I not understand Grindelwald’s cause? How could I not understand why he had joined his cause? When we’d both lost family members to Muggles–oh, pardon me, No Majs…

“The only reason I am alive, Mrs. Abbott, is because I was convenient to keep around,” she continued her barrage though by this point Agnes was clearly uncomfortable, seemingly wishing she had not pressed on. “A healer at hand, at all times…It was only for a month but by my ancestors, it felt like an unending living nightmare. You pretend to accuse me of conspiring to kill the very man I’ve dedicated time and effort into helping him heal for nearly two months just because I am a convenient extra suspect? Because why arrest only the culprit when you could get more glory and recognition by arresting the sorry witch who was stuck with the rotten trainee? That is an insult to every–” she punctuated the word with a firm tap of a sharp nail against the table, “–single–” and again, “–patient–” and again, “–I’ve dedicated my sleepless nights to just so they could have a faster recovery than I did, just so they didn’t feel alone in one of their darkest moments of their lives, Madam. So, no, I do not miss Rhys Havel and I will go to my deathbed with a seething hatred for him, for betraying me , for hurting me so, for letting Grindelwald torture me so…I was his wife and that meant nothing to him…”

Constance let out a shaky breath, allowing herself to fall back against the seat, wiping furiously at her eyes while she took in deep breaths. She hadn’t expected to go on such a rant but the woman really pushed her to let out her rage. If she wanted more information, she got it. Constance only regretted that Mr. Graves had been here to witness this and she was painfully aware of the fact, thus she avoided looking in his general direction.

There was a heavy silence in the room while Agnes fiddled with the file, seemingly re-reading certain parts, her face red with shame, nearly matching her fiery red hair. From what Percival could only assume, it seemed Agnes skipped the part that detailed all there was to know of Constance’s former husband. He could only glance every now and again at Constance with empathy, trying to let her know that he had her back, that he was sorry she had to suffer under Grindelwald’s schemes, and that she had been stuck with such a rotten man for a husband back then. Her circumstances may have been different, she may not have been locked in a cursed expanded dresser for two months, but in his eyes she had been a prisoner nonetheless.

After a moment she spoke again, her tone lower now, almost a whisper, “Do what you want. Take my memories, inspect every one of them if you must. But that is all I have to say. If you do not believe me still…” she shrugged. “Then I can do nothing but resign myself at this moment.”

“Madam,” Percival finally spoke, gaining Constance’s tired gaze. “I’m not letting anything happen to you,” his tone was sincere, reassuring.

For a moment she was quiet, holding his gaze when she nodded and offered a grateful smile that was actually barely there. “The thought is appreciated, Mr. Graves. I am only sorry it was I who ended up as your healer, otherwise you wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

Percival was about to answer when Agnes suddenly stood and walked towards the door. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing?” Percival asked, quirking an eyebrow, feeling hesitant about her actions.

“Revising something. Just do as you're told and stay. That includes you,” she pointed at Graves before she left the room, leaving him alone with Constance.

The two remained quiet, not wishing to give Agnes an excuse to keep making up stories. At the same time, however, both were unsure of what to say, though Constance was mainly exhausted after this emotional ordeal. Still, they glanced quietly at each other, a promise of a much needed conversation for later–if they got out of this unscathed.

Agnes returned a moments later, sooner than Percival expected actually. “Go,” she said simply, all of her attitude from earlier seemingly defeated out of her.

“What?” Constance and Percival asked almost simultaneously.

“I’m letting you go. You made your case clear, alright? I’ve discussed it with the senior aurors,” Agnes sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just go. Burke denied your involvement under Veritaserum and under the scrutiny of a legilimens, and I’ve no...solid, actual evidence against you. Plus I’ve still got to question Grindelwald, so there’s that.”

Percival let out a slight chuckle. “I’ll be damned, this must be the first time I see you coming into reason.”

“Shut it, Graves,” she snapped, shaking her head. “You both leave now and I won’t tell Picquery you signed yourself out of the hospital, capiche?"

After confirming he understood, he and Constance left without needing to be told again. Though the ordeal with Agnes was done for now, the two of them had a lot to discuss now and both were rather antsy to break this silence soon enough.

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #percival graves #real!percival graves #percival graves/oc #percival graves/ofc #my writing;#fic: long&lost;#original character #cross posting from ao3 #otp: long&lost;

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