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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

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Good Day!

As I told earlier, I finished my Soap x Reader Fic and yeah here it is.

I suck at titles and that shows.

Midnight Coffee Rush

John MacTavish x Female Reader

Warnings : Smut. Read at your own Risk or whatever.

Cross-posting to AO3 later 😳

THUD!

You softly slam your head on the desk as you stare blankly at the blinking cursor on your laptop. An article is due next week and you haven't really started on anything yet. Your editor keeps on calling you earlier today on how she can't work on last minute submissions. You assured her that yours won't need that much editing and she trusts you with that, but still, a deadlines a deadline.

Scanning your empty apartment room for ideas, you decide it's best if you take this ordeal outside and look for open places to work on. Coincidentally, the local café "John's brew" happens to open for 24 hours starting today. You feel uneasy at the name of the shop but that won't stop you from your goals today.

After a chilly midnight walk across the streets of your city, you finally make it to the shop, it looks like it can compete with the local Starbucks as its outer layout gives off the same vibe.

You push open the glass doors and the bell chimes from above you, this made the barista at the counter turn his head and greet you with a friendly smile. "Welcome to John's Brew!"

You stand just across the counter as you look up to view what the store has to offer while the barista waits patiently for your order. You order some fancy named coffee, wanting to try out why it has a star next to it's name as the barista, who now you know goes by the name "Gary" based on his name tag, explains that it's their best selling and unique blend coffee. He then passionately tells you how the coffee you chose is created by the owner of the shop and judging by the tone of his voice, he's excited for you to try it for the first time.

"Thanks Gary, here's my card." you reach out for your card and he cheerfully accepts it.

"What name should this go by, Ms. L/N?" he asks readying his marker.

"Just Y/N." you say. Gary raises his eyebrows in confusion.

"Sorry, I'm sure I heard that name somewhere." he dismisses his thoughts and writes your name on the cup.

"We'll you're a barista, I'm sure you've heard a lot of names in your line of work." you jokingly reply. It made him laugh as he gives your card back and you make your way to the corner of the room.

The music is soothing and the ambience is more than enough to keep you going, you pull out your laptop as you start typing ideas for your article.

Gary took the liberty of delivering you your drink saying "You looked very focused" and "There isn't that much customers anyway" and you smiled at the service he's done. He stays for a while insisting that he wants to witness your initial reaction as soon as you taste the coffee. So you slowly blow off the heat and took your first sip.

Your eyebrows raised and your cheeks blushed as the warm beverage tickles your tastebuds a wave of nostalgia brings shivers down your spine.

***

"So, what do you think of this?" A shirtless man with a signature mohawk and scar on his left eye approaches you just as you get up of bed. You remember smiling at the view, his deep blue eyes pierce through yours as he excitedly offers a cup of coffee he claims to mix himself.

"Mmm! This tastes, well... something even I can't describe! It's good? delicious? heavenly maybe?" You giggle as he inches closer to you crawling up the bed and reaching on your face for a kiss, blindly reaching for the cup and putting in on the bedside table.

"Not even the words from your thesaurus can't describe?" He whispers as he pulls the kiss away, eyebrows wiggling. Your heart melts at the sight of him.

"I'll tell you the perfect word when I find it." You giggle as you reach for his face and pull him to yours, as he softly crashes his body on you, rolling around the bed.

***

"Maam?" Gary taps your shoulder and you immediately flinch and turn to him.

"I'm sorry." you laugh nervously.

"It felt like you had a good time going on with that drink. We're having a contest as to which word best describes it. If you want to submit your word, I'll leave this pen and sticky note on your table." he cheerfully explains as the door chimes, making him rush back to his counter.

Shit. You thought to yourself. Of course it had to taste the same, even the name of the shop checks out. Your heart starts to thump louder and louder as you put the pieces together, you convince yourself it's just the coffee, but then again the evidences never lie. John's Brew, that exact taste, no word yet to describe it.

You flinched as you turn to the heavy door slam to your left, just by the counter. A man, walks out of it wearing a very fit long sleeve tucked into business pants, you assume it's the manager. Then again, you see him scratching his head, which happens to have a rather unique haircut. A mohawk. Holy Shit.

***

'Congratulations Ms. Y/N L/N! You have been accepted on the writer program. Please report tomorrow for your orientation.'

The text read just as you wake up. Your face lit up in excitement as you squealed like a kid. Your life would change for the better.

A very wet John MacTavish popped out of the bathroom, his face was full of worry as he quickly wrapped himself with a towel.

"What's wrong?! Something out to get ya?" He asked, a bar of soap on is arms ready to throw to the intruder.

"I just got accepted!" you squealed excitedly at him, hugged him thight not minding how wet he was. He slowly wrapped his arms around you and you felt that you're the only one excited about this news.

"Congrats. But what about your life here? What about me?" he muttered, his facial expressions dropped.

"I'm sure we'll work it out? It isn't that far, right?"

"I'm sure we'll work it out"

"Not now John, I have articles due."

"I'm too exhausted for today, John"

"I'm sorry. I fell asleep."

***

The loud growl of your stomach shocked you back to reality. Come to think of it, it's already 2 in the morning and you're almost through with your article. A muffin won't be that much of a distraction. You turn to the counter and see John catering to a lady on a bright red dress. She probably came from a club and now trying to sober up with a coffee. You pretend to type on your keyboard but secretly view the event from the corner of your eye. They are laughing and he escorted her as she is walking tipsily to the sofa. They exchange some words you barely make out and can't help but feel rage bubbling inside you. But then again, you don't have the slightest audacity to do so. You slowly ignored him while focusing on your job. You left his messages on read and calls on voicemail. You feel guilt rushing through you. Out of impulsive emotions, you quickly decide to finish the article home as you grab your laptop and coffee and rush to the exit.

"Ma'am! You left your sticky note." John's voice echoes across the shop. This made the few notable customers look at the both of us in curiosity.

You slowly turn back to him leaning on the counter, his elbows resting on the counter looking at you, he knows what he's up to. You remember telling him to stop flexing his biceps in front of you in public. It's kind of an inside joke for the two of you and he seems to remember it all too well.

"Your word. For the contest." he points out to the bulletin board of sticky notes on the other side of the hall.

"I... can't think of anything yet..." you stammer as you exit the door, walking as fast as you can away from him.

"Y/N, wait!" he quickly grabs your arm. You almost expect that he'd do this even after all those times.

"John I-" you quicky turn to him, hot tears start forming on your eyes as he pulls you close to his warm embrace.

"Yeah. You've been very busy... I know." He mutters as you sniffle on his chest, smelling his musk that never changed even after all these months.

"Congratulations on your most recent award, you know. Article of the month, and the month before that and that one time you wrote about the wildlife in Africa..." he trails off while rubbing your back as more tears fell from your eyes. He'd been watching your career grow, even after all this time. It somehow feels you don't deserve him. And you believe you really don't.

Pulling away, you looked at him with a smile.

"I'm sorry..." you croak.

"Why are you sorry, Y/N? You met someone else out there?" he asks. Then again, you both didn't really have a proper conclusion to your relationship. You initially felt like you were slowly drifting away from each other as your careers grew, but here he is, having the same sparkle in his eyes as when you last saw each other.

"No... but, it's been very long and I have been ignoring you... breaking my promi-" He suddenly pulls you close and kisses your lips, you deny him at first but you slowly grip his arms and let him have access to your mouth.

Longing is the only feeling you both feel right now as you slowly kiss back and respond to his mouth. His kiss gives you assurance that even after all this time he yearns for you to come back, his assurance that you did what you had to do to get where you are now even at the cost of completely shutting him out. But of course you weren't, you also long for him every single day, but life has to keep going, and you believed that he'd found someone else after all those times. But this moment made you feel wrong about him, and it's now your chance to get things right between the two of you.

"You know, I always assumed you're still my girlfriend." he smirks. He is true though, there was neither a formal nor informal break up effort on both sides, just indifference due to many reasons.

"Well, I assumed you looked for someone else... and I'm to shy to ask how things have been..." you croak, trying not to cry again. You realize your stupidity once more, but he wipes off your tear with his thumb and lifts your chin up to look at him.

"You still owe me a word, you know." he jokes as he walks you back to the cafe, arm wrapped around your shoulder. As soon as you both enter the door, Gary greets his boss while mopping the floor.

"You were right boss, she is pretty!" The barista smiles and gives John a thumbs up to which he replies,

"Guess I'll be back in my office doing paperwork, Gary. You take charge here okay?"

"Yes, Captain!" he jokingly salutes and continues his work.

"You done with that article?" he asks, a tone of concern in his voice.

"Almost.." you reply shyly. You still can't digest everything that happened so far, but your heart keeps on thumping and your mind's been trying to scream something to you.

"You know, I could use some company while I do some paperwork..." the trails off, the tone in his voice shifted into something you felt excited about. Something along those words mixed with that accent sends flutters across your insides.

"If you'd want me to..." you reply as he opens his office door letting you in. It was a small office a sofa just beside the door, two chairs infront of a large office desk filled with scattered papers, ledgers and journals. He quickly folds his laptop and puts it in his bag as you take off your coat, admiring the view. Plaques, certificates and awards plaster across the walls, along with pictures of his staff calendar schedules and some other things scribbled across the whiteboard. He offers his hand and you give him your coat, only to be pinned to the door.

"God, I missed you so fucking much." He breathes as you stare at his cold blue eyes blazing with desire, you know full well where this is going and you have no objections. You wished for this to happen as soon as your plane touched the city.

Unable to form any words, you quickly pucker your lips, signaling him to move closer and kiss you. Now that you're both alone, his kisses felt much more intimate, needier and his tongue explored every possible area he could. You hear the door lock itself and his hand slowly caresses your ass through the tight jeans you're wearing, pressing himself so you could feel the tension growing beneath his slacks. You slowly slide your hand through it and earned yourself a chuckle from him, as he moves his lips below your ear and around your neck, hearing each smack of his lip and sniff of his nose.

You let out a soft moan as you feel overwhelmed on what he does to your body, you couldn't focus on what's going on, your hands rubbing his hard crotch, his hands softly caressing your ass or his mouth doing wonders around your neck. He continues to do this until your pants and whines become erratic and fast and stops just at the right time for you to catch your breath.

You open your eyes to him, who seems to be enjoying your reunion, a sexy smirk across his face. You let out a smile whist still panting, and he seems to like what he sees, letting a soft chuckle.

"I remember that look on you. You're up to something.." He recalls as you push him to the sofa to his side, straddling on his crotch as you unbutton his long sleeves.

He grunts as soon as he plops on the sofa and groans as soon as you slowly wiggle your ass on top of him. You could clearly see the building frustration in his face as well as in his jeans.

You quickly undone seven buttons as he quickly tosses it somewhere and viewed his muscular physique as you sit on him. He became hairier and you find it very sexy, trailing your hand down his body, all while staring at him as seductive as you can. He smiles at the gesture as you slowly unbutton your shirt, never breaking eye contact, until he can't resist anymore and got up from the sofa. He lifts you down and you stand on the floor as he works your way to slide off your jeans. He quickly buried his face on your pussy as soon as he sees it and devours it like a hungry wolf. He never dissappoints as the feeling made you shudder, grabbing onto what's left of his hair in excitement. This goes on up until you softly pull his head out and move to unbuckle his belt, sliding his slacks all the way down as his cock springs free as soon as you take his boxers off.

You stare at him as you slowly jerk your hand around his cock, his eyes almost in a trance, as you teasingly kiss the tip, which was slowly oozing of precum. He grabs your hair and tucks it behind your ear as you slowly swallow his cock, giving him a blowjob that you've always imagined of giving him when you meet again. You're tongue slowly swirling around his length, feeling every vein and skin around it. You countinued mixing it up with your hand and mouth until he groans in anticipation and pulls you out of him.

He slowly gets up and shoves all his paperwork away from his desk and carries you to it, spreading your legs as he slowly pushes his tip on your opening.

You whimper at the first entrance, it felt different than usual, maybe because it's been quite a while since you to have done it, but that didn't stop the both of you from continuing. His eyes mesmerize you as he slowly picks up his rhythm, you can see his chest muscles bounce as he thrusts himself deep in you. He slowly rubs the upper area of your pussy as he thrusts, giving you a sensation that makes you wanna scream in pleasure. But given the circumstances, you only let out small gasps and whimpers. However, his grunts and moans are also getting louder, so you decide to let loose and follow his volume.

"Fuck." You whimper as he continues his fast pace as evidenced by the loud slapping noises. He quickly flips you to the desk and continues to fuck you from behind. Each thrust felt like the desk is inching closer to the wall, you didn't protest as you loved the sensation, how your walls clench as his warm cock slides in and out of you. You feel his motions change and you know full well what that means, you moan softly signaling him thay you're also almost there as he makes his final thrusts and shoots his warm load inside you, feeling the rush of his cum drip as he pulls his cock out.

He pulls you up and reaches for a kiss, a long yet intimate one as you both use the language of kiss to assure that you'll still be the same way no matter how distant it may be.

"See you after my shift?" he murmurs as he puts on his clothes, now all wrinkly and messy.

"Yes." you smile reaching for another kiss.

After preparing to go home, you quickly grab a pen and wrote the word you describe the drink, plaster it on the board and make your way out of the café.

#horRAYfic #codmw #Soap x Reader #john soap mactavish

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lnarizakis · 4 years ago

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you and i.

with atsumu miya.

in 2.2k words.

tags mutual pining, fluff, in which atsumu tries to scare the unscareable.

“‘I love you,’ he told her, after all these years of his longing eyes following her swaying body; after all these years of his always looking for her but never finding her.

“Pensive, she looked down, at the ground, or at her feet and whatnot, then back up at him. ‘I love you too,’ she replied, after what seemed like the time it took for him to tell her he loved her. She took his hands in hers, and reached in, ever so slowly, and…”

The book was taken from your grasp before you could ever read what was to come next. You stared at empty hands, then up at the thief of your book.

“Ah!” he gasped, “Did I scare you this time?” His words came out of him so fluidly and so repetitively that anyone would have known this was a long-time challenge of Miya Atsumu: to scare the unscareable. He’d done everything he could think of to get you stiff in the legs, cowering in fear, or just gasp aloud, but everything he managed to do ended with a “No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.”

It happened again. You held out your hands for him to return the book, and you said aloud, “No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.”

He let out another sigh in defeat and trudged back to his own seat in the classroom. There he sat not wallowing in the misery of his failure, but in the heat of his embarrassment, flustered as he held his hand that brushed against your own.

Atsumu’s brother Osamu noticed long ago the change in his brother— he wanted to assume it was back in your first year of middle school when Atsumu was surely (though, of course, he didn’t know it himself) in love with every part of you. If Osamu were to presume an exact time at which you were all Atsumu could ever focus on, he would say it was on one cold afternoon, and the three of you were having lunch together…

“Well—! Well, it’s clearly Osamu who’s the one bad at keeping secrets!” Atsumu exclaimed. The tips of ears grew red from embarrassment; neither you nor Osamu believed it was the chill in the air that made him stutter in his words, his eyes dart all over the openness of your middle school playground, or the corners of his mouth twitch in the formation of a smile. One hand itched the side of his face while the other gripped his sandwich, which was clearly falling apart from his firm hold on it.

“How is it a secret that you pissed the bed? I’m absolutely positive that (Y/N) would think you’re the bed-wetter type,” Osamu refuted, emphasizing his sureness. “What, should I tell ‘em why exactly you wet the bed, hm? All ‘cause you were afraid of that super-scary movie we watched before going to sleep?”

“It’s Sadako, of all the movies we watched! Of course I would be scared! I’m sure (Y/N) would be just as scared, huh? Wouldn’t you, (Y/N)?” Atsumu was so close to shouting at his brother, but he was so out of his seat to lean forward, closer to Osamu practically to spit in his face. Long forgotten was his sandwich, but you next to him brought him back down to his seat and his senses. He turned to you, almost in desperation that you’d agree with him.

You hummed. “I’m not scared of anything.”

Osamu sputtered out a laughter. Atsumu stared slack-jawed at you, then shot his eyes toward his brother.

“This isn’t some laughing matter, ‘Samu! You guys are just makin’ me out to be a wuss right now!” Atsumu exclaimed.

He then added, “... Which I am clearly not!”

Again, Atsumu sat back down in his seat, as he found himself standing from the excitement bubbling in him. He sighed, hesitating to raise his white flag in defeat, and he rested his head on the slightly-sticky lunch table. Atsumu whined aloud from his skin touching the cold plastic of the table.

“There’s something you’ve gotta be scared of, (Y/N),” Atsumu said after a while of Osamu’s silent chewing and the pages of your book crisply turning.

“There’s nothing, really.” You continued with the book you were reading, deeply engrossed in it. There was a small smile resting on your face, Atsumu noticed. Something in him made him want to reach up and brush the strands of hair that fell over your gentle eyes— were you not aware of your vision being slightly covered, or was Atsumu reading too much into your appearance right now?

You turned to Atsumu, and he thought you were going to comment on his eyes that couldn’t peel themselves away from your face. Instead, he was faced with words that pierced his heart warm.

“Well, you can try to scare me, though.”

Atsumu thought he was being challenged, but as he looked back on his blooming feelings for you, it seemed like a taunt. Though, it was all the taunting that made him feel it was his end goal: to get you to lower your walls and reveal expressions you never would have made if it weren’t for him. The diamond in the rough was just taunting him to brush all that dust off itself.

You were, in every way, his greatest challenger…

… and it was all the more reason for him to fall for you.

It was a week before Halloween where he found himself looking out the window, staring at the orange leaf that clung persistently to the naked branch of the tree, despite the chaos of the wind pushing it all sorts of directions. His hand still tingled from his earlier actions, which really didn’t help with the lack of notes in his notebook. Atsumu carefully took a glance in your direction, where you sat with poise a few seats behind him, taking diligent notes.

In actuality, the corner of your page was scrawled with the same words again and again: “You and I, You and I.” It was the last line of your book Atsumu had snatched from your hands that morning, and it was the line that left you in chills the first time reading it, and again the fourth time skimming over it.

It was the line you wished was to become of you and Atsumu.

“You and I.”

“What’s that mean?”

It was a week after being in your new high school, and you still hadn’t gotten used to Atsumu’s and Osamu’s newly colored hairstyles. Your eyes lingered up at Atsumu’s blond hair before trailing down to his brown eyes as you told him it was the last line of the book you had just finished reading.

“What’s it about?” Atsumu asked you, still standing above you as you sat patiently at your desk, waiting for class to start.

“Oh, it’s really the best book ever— It’s about this boy who’s so hopelessly in love with this girl… and he does everything he can to get her to fall in love with her…! And I’m pretty sure you’re never going to read it, so I’ll just tell you what happens.

“At the end of the book, the boy goes up to the girl, his hands in his pockets, right? And he’s lookin’ down at the floor, ‘cause he’s all nervous and stuff, and he goes: ‘I love you!’ and the girl is just so relieved because after all these years… she’s liked him back. Ever since they were small children. Isn’t that so romantic?”

He hummed, giving you a slight nod. All of that rambling of your favorite book made you feel yourself heating up, and you were positive it wasn’t the warmth of the spring morning. Atsumu then pummeled his fists onto your desk, creating a “Bang!” that was sure to scare you out of your wits. He even added his own “Ah!” of his own to surprise you even further.

“Did that scare you, (Y/N)?”

“No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.”

Atsumu turned back to face his notes, or whatever was written hastily on the blank page. He’d got to try and scare you at least on Halloween. There was no way he’d ask for the help of Osamu or Suna again, who had so seriously suggested that Atsumu should scare you by Facetiming you so early in the morning, with his crusty eyes and raspy morning voice. He couldn’t ask Kita or Aran, either, who would tell him not to scare you in the first place.

He sighed wistfully. It was much too loud for his own taste, for his teacher jerked his head back, barking at Atsumu, asking him, “What’s so tiring about my class, Miya-kun?”

—

The days came and went, and soon enough, Halloween greeted you with a tap on the shoulder. You shrugged its greeting away, hoping to pass through this day like any other, though you knew Atsumu was to have something up his sleeve for today.

Of course, he did. Atsumu’s plan was menial— silly, almost— but he was sure it was to leave you stiff, standing still right when he jumps out at you from around the corner. After school, you were to walk from the second years’ hallway to the shoe lockers by the entrance of the school building. As you turn the corner, Atsumu will jump out at you, startling you and perhaps even dropping whatever you had in your arms. It was the perfect plan, and it was sure to work out in the end, leaving him the victor.

Atsumu smirked to himself as he leaned against the wall, waiting for you to pass by. Soon, the soft pitter-patter of your shoes grew louder in his ears, and he huffed out a breath, getting ready to jump out and scare you. He squared his shoulders, held his chin high with pride, and his concentration hardened his expression to give everyone passing by the extra scare factor.

You were coming close, and Atsumu could almost feel your presence. With a pivot just as graceful as a precise setter’s first step, he jumped out in front of you from behind the corner, and shouted right in your ear, where it would soon be sore for days.

Upon seeing Atsumu, you stilled in your tracks. You drilled bored eyes into Atsumu’s face, which glowed with the spirit of a champion.

“I scared you…! I finally scared ya!”

“No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.” You passed by him, who wilted in defeat once again. He slouched only enough for you to notice, and you pitied him only slightly. A slight chuckle made its way through your closed smile as you looked down, so as not to reveal your flustered expression.

He groaned. “Agh, I still haven’t scared ya? And it’s literally Halloween, the scariest day of the year! I’m supposed to scare you on this day!”

“It’s okay if you can’t,” you said, attempting to console him, “Halloween’s just some regular day, just like any other.” He followed you to the shoe lockers, where you both began to exchange your indoor shoes for your outdoors ones. The two of you continued on to the front gate, where Atsumu argued with you.

“Sure, it’s some regular day to you, but it’s not to me! It’s, like, the six-thousandth year anniversary of me trying to scare ya, and, like, the eighteen-thousandth year anniversary of me havin’ the biggest, dumbest crush on you—!”

Your heart stopped, and so did you. Every part of you went stiff, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to turn around, even if it was just your head, and ask Atsumu to repeat what he said. You thought your breathing went shallow as you managed to look behind you at the boy, he himself just as frightened of his own words.

“Did you just say—?”

“That I like you?” Atsumu paused. “Yeah, I did.”

You let out a breath, almost exasperated, as you exclaimed, walking closer to him, “You…! You scared me! Thought after all these years… you’d never say it…”

The two of you grew silent, and as your head hung low from the embarrassment that pushed it down, all that filled your vision was the dust that accumulated at your worn-out shoes and a couple dried leaves that danced past Atsumu’s feet.

“I scared you, didn’t I?” was all he could say. You jerked your head up at him with the most exasperated expression, and all he had to give you was a smug look, claiming himself the winner— though not in the way he wanted. Still, the fluster adorned your face, and so you brushed your hair out of the way for Atsumu to rest his forehead on yours.

He exhaled. “I finally did it,” he mumbled through a smile, “I scared you and you’re mine now, too. Double win.”

You pulled away from him. “Since when am I yours? I never told you I liked you.”

Atsumu whined, groaning aloud, “Huh? Now I gotta get you to say you like me back, which probably won’t happen for another five years? You’re so unfair, (Y/N).” He reached for your hand, which you gladly took in yours, and the two of you began walking home in unison.

His hand was warm.

You clasped it tighter.

“You and I,” you breathed out.

Atsumu turned to you. “You say something?”

You shook your head, smiling softly to yourself. “No, it’s nothing.”

It’s just you and I.

happy birthday, hana! @wansseul

#haikyuu x reader #hq!! x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #miya x reader #hq atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: This Is A Test (standalone)

Summary: Gaster has always been a loyal subject to Asgore, always obeyed his word and order. Until today.

Notes: I had this idea a long time ago of Underfell Gaster working for Fellgore because he didn't really have a choice, shoving down all his emotions and working as an unfeeling scientist, doing his experiments and following orders like a loyal subject...until he can't. Not anymore.

This story contains mentions of past failed experiments in the form of created children, essentially children dying or being stillborn, not explicitly so but it is there. There are also mentions of experimenting on created Monster children, again, not explicitly so. I consider this to be a prelude to a good Dadster-type story.

Tags: Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Found Family, Pre- Good Dadster, Medical Experimentation, Bad Fellgore, Babybones Red and Edge

~~~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

None of the lab technicians could ever hope to match Royal Scientist Gaster when it came to typing speed, but to be fair, it was hardly their fault. When one had numerous magical hands to assist, one was understandably more proficient than someone with only two.

Standing at the keyboard, repurposed from a derelict at the dump for his needs, Gaster added the last formula and hit enter. There was a moment of concern as he waited to see if the old, forgotten machine still worked, an uncomfortable amount of time drawing out to the tension of a piano wire before in an abrupt surge all the dusty lights in front of him came to flickering life. With a belch of grinding sounds the gears began to turn, slowly dimming to a loud hum as it began processing the inputted data, the monitor filling with characters scrolling too fast to be seen as it churned through hundreds of thousands of possible coordinates in seconds, searching for possible matches to his if-then qualification.

Gaster took a step back, watching his abandoned creation’s rebirth so intently that he didn’t hear the door opening behind him, nor the shuffling footsteps. It took a single word, the voice rising over the droning machinery to give him a pause.

“doc?”

He turned around to look at experiment S-23 standing by the opened door, shuffling their bare feet nervously on the dirty floor. In truth, that voice should be far too deep to come from such a small body, but extensive testing confirmed their accelerated growth cycle had already ended. The experiment was a failure and termination should have been the next step. None of the other experiments had required it; their systems shut down after the failure of the growth process ended. This one, though, clung stubbornly to life years after they should have dusted.

Terminating defunct test subjects was simply a part of experimentation, Gaster knew it well, and did not appreciate being prodded about it. He’d curtly informed the very few techs who dared question him on his decision to forgo termination that S-23 was still being monitored because of their unusual longevity. Such a thing could be quite useful in upcoming studies, there was no reason to sacrifice a possible source of information so hastily, and their careless disregard for the patience of longer termed studied would be noted. Those questions quickly stopped and now the technicians tolerated S-23 as a sort of mascot, mostly ignored as they went about their duties.

S-23 shifted to scratch nervously at the back of one leg with the toes of their other foot, wobbling unsteadily until they caught their balance. Their lack of grace was forgivable; at their side was S-47, clinging tightly to their hand with only one crimson eye light visible as they peered out around S-23’s billowing gown. S-47 was only two days out of the incubation tubes and already walking, part of the accelerated growth process. Talking should have been next and tests confirmed at least rudimentary understanding, which was all Asgore required for a soldier. Should have been talking, but S-47 said nothing, only clung to S-23’s small hand, still standing so they were half-concealed by the other. They were already nearly as tall as S-23’s shoulder and would continue to grow. Estimates were promising, putting them at nearly twice the previously attained heights.

Strong and able, capable of understanding orders. All that was necessary for an army waiting to be grown.

“Thank you for coming,” Gaster said. Even alone, it was difficult to allow his stiff professionalism to ease. “I’m aware it’s earlier than you’re normally awake.”

S-23 only nodded silently, well accustomed to disruptions of their sleep. They slipped an arm around the shorter one’s shoulders, pulling them closer. “i think he’s hungry.”

“I expect so,” Gaster said, almost absently. “That sort of growth consumes a great deal of magic. Here.” He crouched by the heavy pack that was leaning against one of the walls and pulled out a cinnamon bunny purchased that morning. It was no longer warm, but the smell was still enticingly fresh. Such a thing was a rare treat and S-23 brightened visibly, the expression faltering as the younger beside him grunted eagerly and reached for it.

Gaster watched, unable to prevent himself from cataloging S-23’s reaction. They unwrapped the treat and gave it to the younger without saving even a small portion for themselves, swallowing hard as they watched S-47 devour it. Before they finished, Gaster retrieved another from the bag and handed it over silently, watching with a sort of wearily resigned amusement as S-23 started handing it over as well.

“Stop,” Gaster told him, and S-23 froze, looking up at him with wide sockets. It was rare that Gaster spoke sternly. It was normally unnecessary, S-23 was always near pathetically eager to please. No, he told himself, not pathetically. Childishly. “Eat at least half of that yourself, food may be scarce for a while.”

He could see S-23’s confusion, though they did as they were told and the supreme enjoyment on their small face as they relished the treat made a lump form at the back of his throat, viciously swallowed away.

Gaster turned back to the machine, his eyes skipping over the crumpled missive on the nearby table. Despite the destruction, the royal seal was still visible and Gaster did not need to read it to know what it said. The order was too brief to be forgotten.

Bring them.

Bring them, the first soldier for his perfect army. After all this time, the experiment worked and…no, not experiment, the child. If he was done with the lab then he could be done with that as well. The child was thriving, growing as expected, their long-fingered hands were tipped with the demanded sharp claws, their teeth wickedly sharp as they tore into the small pastry. Asgore was eager to begin their training, teaching them the skills they would need in the war against the Humans. Teaching them to be a killer, filling their tiny soul with LV.

S-47 looked up at Gaster with wide eye lights, their face smeared with crumbs as they offered him an incongruous, innocently happy smile through those jagged teeth.

Gaster turned away again, back to the pack, and he roughly pulled out two pairs of small shoes and some mismatched clothing. All of it would be too big for either of them, but when he’d begun bringing clothes to the lab months back, a single piece at a time and no more than one article a week to be carefully concealed outside the watchful eye of the cameras, he’d been unable to gauge what size might be necessary. Better to be much too large than too small and useless.

Their confusion was obvious as Gaster hurriedly pulled off the thin gowns they both wore and replaced them with shirts and trousers. S-23’s confusion was more profound; they’d never worn real clothing in their entire short life. Even the blanket in their tiny room was rough and utilitarian, their cell sterile and bare. The solitary toy in it was a worn stuffed rabbit missing one of its button eyes, given by Gaster during a test of their capacity for empathy and never retrieved. That toy was usually hidden beneath their pillow, kept out of sight of the other lab technicians, and was now stowed away at the bottom of the backpack.

He only had one of S-47 shoes tied when the machine burped out a cheerfully musical sound. Gaster nearly fell as he staggered to his feet, assisted by his own magical hands as he stumbled over to the monitor where two words stood out bluntly on the screen.

Coordinates found.

Gaster took a long, slow breath, and turned to look at…at the children. They stood there dressed in a hodgepodge of stolen clothing, confused and yet so trusting. Their wide sockets curiously watching as they waited for him to give them orders; they were accustomed to that, already accustomed to being told what to do and ready to be molded, ready for that innocence to be ripped away, to be turned into something else.

There was another, newer computer on the other side of the room with orders already typed in, waiting for confirmation. Gaster went to it and tapped in his keycode, turning away before he could watch his life’s work destroyed as the virus he’d created greedily ate its way through the servers.

“Come along, children,” Gaster said firmly, with confidence he did not feel. He shouldered the backpack with its meagre supplies and paused only long enough to tie S-47’s other shoe before he took each child by the hand, leading them to the machine. There was only enough charge for one attempt but that was fine. They wouldn’t be back and when the virus was finish with the main servers, it would infect the machine’s drives as well.

They needed to hurry now and Gaster let go of S-23’s hand…no. No, the child’s name was Sans, given to him in a barely audible whisper when Gaster first held him, still wet with sticky fluids from decanting. He’d named every one of them, all forty-five of the others, every lost child falsely called an experiment and he’d hold those names in his soul until the day he dusted. On his other side, Papyrus, once called S-47, was bouncing excitedly, lifting a foot to admire his new-old sneakers.

Gaster let go of Sans’s hand long enough to press the single glowing red button on the machine’s control panel. On the large metal pad that extended from the machine’s side, a wavering cloud of blackness formed, a portal that, according to his calculations, should lead to somewhere else. Where exactly that was could only be answered by going through it.

If it worked, wonderful, and if it didn’t, well. That might be for the best, too.

“Come along, children,” Gaster said again, and he led Sans and Papyrus to that portal, dim shouts from down the hallways already audible and growing louder. They followed him trustingly, never pausing as he stepped through the darkness with his children as they traveled to whatever lay on the other side.

~~*~~

end...?

#underfell #babybones #keelywolfe #underfell gaster #underfell sans #underfell papyrus #dadster

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rrazor · 4 years ago

Text

everyday is everyday | m. issei

tags: domestic fluff, alcohol, pda

“hey.”

you look at him, chin in your hand. your fingers cover half of your mouth.

“what?”

his curls fall over his right eye. it makes you smile: how soft they are, curly they are, the way they fall over his eye. you gently brush them away.

“i have a trade offer.” he scooches closer. you lean back, he leans closer. you’re leaning against the wall now, caged in by it, the desk, the booth wall and him. your hand stays stubbornly on your chin.

“what is it?”

he wants your hand off your chin so he takes it away. he’s taken aback when you push it against his chest.

“wait, my back hurts.”

“oh.” relief. he lets you sit up but stays close, in your personal space, popping your bubble.

“well? what’s the trade?”

he watches your hair spread out against the back of the seat as you lean against it. he mirrors you and laces your hands together.

“well,” he purses his lips. “i was thinking…”

you hum. out of the corner of your eye, you see tommy from calc one. in your eyes, there’s issei.

“—that if i receive a kiss, i’ll give you in return.”

you raise a brow. “really? that’s it?”

he pouts, dipping his head lower as a hand comes up to squish your cheeks. “hey.”

you’re in public—the economic department’s study space and—,

“didn’t say ‘no’,” you grin.

he grins too, cheeks pinking when you lean up to kiss him. he tastes like the vanilla flavoured lip balm you gave him last week. a squish to your cheeks has your lips puckering lingering than you’d like them to be as he plants a swift one before finally pulling away.

“well?”

“mm?” he rests his forehead on yours.

“where’s my kiss?”

he chuckles at the endearing frown on your pretty face, thumbing over your soft cheek. “right here.”

a yawn and there’s tears forming in your corner of your eyes. through the kitchen window, you watch as the street lights flicker on, muddled orange yellow spots giving light to the streets.

“where did you get them?”

a look to your right, past issei’s shoulders and you see a girl with balayage highlights in her dark hair. she’s pretty, real pretty. a little blurry but you can still tell her eyes are gorgeous. you don’t know if she’s paying attention to you right behind him, sitting on the kitchen island. she asks another question, “which one’s your favourite?” you know, that which, out of the eight piercings he had, was his favourite but you’re not about to tell her. resting your head on his shoulder, you look down, accustomed to the way people tried to hit him up.

he tells her his favourite as his fingers grace along the inside of your calf. his thumb and fingers dance along the skin of your ankle, drawing images you try to visualize in your head as you close your eyes.

“right, babe?”

you glance up at him.

“sorry?”

he puts his drink down and turns around, facing you entirely. you half wish he wasn’t so broad and tall so you’d be able to see who else was around you.

“tired?” he mumbles, kissing your forehead.

“a little.” you sit up straighter, stretching a little. the girl with the nice golden hair is half a ways away, walking back to her group of friend who start to comfort her. “what were you talking about earlier?”

“the time hiro almost broke the chair at the shop with how hard his leg had kicked when he got his.”

you hum, admiring how good he looks in the starchy yellow light. “did it hurt?” you rub a finger over his bushy brow, lighting passing over the studs in his skin.

“my piercings? or his?” he has a hand on your knee now, other one over yours on the counter. he watches as you giggle, tipping away a little more than you would if it wasn’t for the red solo cup in your left hand.

“no,” you lilt. he laughs along with you, kissing you through your cute fit of laughter.

“meant when you fell from heaven,” you slur, breaking away into another melody of giggles.

he chuckles, putting your arms around his neck as he carries you, keeping you tucked tight against his chest. “do i look like i came from heaven, babe?”

you nod, lying your head on his shoulder as he takes you to the car, to home, to heaven.

he feels you before he sees you, arms around his waist, head between his shoulders.

“you’re back.” he automatically puts his hands over yours and also over the large mango in your hand.

“‘m back.”

“why’re you holding a mango?”

“it’s huge,” sugawara snorts. “the heck you get that from?”

you release your arms to stand next to them, holding the precious fruit in the palm of your hands. “from the grocery store.”

“why a mango?” sugawara takes a sip of his caramel macchiato.

you shrug, rubbing the smooth skin.

“y’gonna eat it like an apple?” he continues.

you shrug again. “maybe.”

sugawara looks at issei, who shrugs at well, before announcing his leave for his chemistry class.

issei looks down at you and offers his coffee which you shake your head at. “why’d you get a mango?”

“it was all i could afford,” you say. “wanna share?”

he chuckles, “sure. you hungry though?”

you grin, tucking the mango into your armpit and putting your palms together. “snacks?”

he puts his hand into yours, placing a kiss on your forehead. “got mints, but i’ll treat you to something at the new korean restaurant.” he leads you along to the school’s food court, buying you a plate of black bean noodles and pork dumplings on the side to share. you share your large mango, bought for $1.29 plus tax. you cut it into three and he gets the juice all over his hands when he takes the middle part with the refuse. the fruit is tender and he laughs when it slips out of your hand a tad only for you to use your chin to stop it from falling. it’s sweet, sticky and you have to hold onto his phone while he washes his hands in the washroom.

“hand cream?”

he pockets his phone and nods, holding his hand out for you. “is it mango-scented?”

“nope” you squeeze out a generous amount out for him. “pomegranate. this is mango-scented though.” you pull out a tube of lip balm and he stills his head, letting you put it on for him. the scent is soft, but strong and he finds himself nodding at how nice it is.

“it’s nice, isn’t it?”

he hums his agreement, helping you zip up your backpack and taking your hand to walk you to your next class. he kisses you good luck and is there to pick you up at 5:30pm on the dot, surprising you with a bag of mangoes.

“look!”

he looks, watching as you unpack something that’s a pretty mint green and white. “a wireless keyboard?” he reads.

you grin happily, delicately setting everything down on the table and pressing at the keys, satisfied with the sound and feel them. “wanna try?” you pass it on to him as you glimpse over the instruction manual. he taps at the keys and grabs onto the small mouse that came with it.

“this is so small,” he mutters.

“hm?” you look over to see the entirety of his palm already cover the top of the mouse. “oh.” you take it from him and while it is noticeably smaller than a regular mouse, it works just fine. “it’s fine,” you say, testing the scrolling bit.

he helps you set it up, tiny mouse and everything. sitting next to you, he watches as you open up your notes app and type gibberish onto the page, a look of sheer joy on your face. he smiles along, slotting himself behind you while you type away like a little secretary.

“think you’re gonna be more productive?”

“nope!” you laugh. “but at least it’s cute; it’s for the aesthetic, ‘sei.”

he snickers, placing his much larger hands over yours as he too, types away on your new keyboard, mashing keys and filing the screen.

“stooop.” you move to swat his hands. “i can’t move my hands!”

he laughs, enveloping them entirely despite your protests but eventually does let you go after a couple of thrashes and elbows to his stomach.

“it’s a nice keyboard though,” he adds, kissing your forehead.

you huff, returning a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “‘course. i have good taste, y’know.”

“mhm,” he chuckles, hand coming up to hold your jaw gently as he plants a full one on your lips. “i know.”

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x y/n #hq!!#mattsun x reader #matsukawa drabble

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particularemu · 5 years ago

Text

Skinny Dipping | A Hwang Hyunjin Scenario

Word Count: 3075

Type: Smut

Warnings: Public sex (kinda?)

Author’s Note: I have so many soft smut fics for Hwang Hyunjin, so I was struggling with finding an idea for this request. My bae @jisungsjheekies came up with this camping idea :3

So big thanks to Lins <3

Also tagging @cherryeol04 and @channiesmixtape because I’m dying for them to read this.

“I’ve never been camping.”

Your burger slipped out of your hands, falling onto your plate in a mess of ketchup-coated beef and lettuce as you gawked at your boyfriend. “How the hell have you not been camping?”

When you were a kid, your parents took you camping ALL THE TIME. Your family rarely stayed home on a summer weekend. You had fond memories of sleeping in a tent with your sister, telling scary stories by the bonfire, swimming in the lake (and trying not to fear that weird plant that always seemed to wrap around your foot), and catching fireflies in jars underneath the moonlight. Oh, you just HAD to take Hyunjin camping. You had a feeling the boy would have a blast stargazing with REAL STARS. Especially since he spent HOURS one-year sticking hundreds of glow-in-the-dark stars all over your bedroom for your anniversary.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh at your surprise. “Hey, I came here to take my beautiful girlfriend out to lunch, not to be judged.” He chuckled. “I thought I told you that I grew up in the city. Why are you so surprised?” Hyunjin smiled as he shoved a few fries in his mouth, cheeks puffing out slightly as he munched.

How could a boy look so cute eating?

You shrugged as you tried to put your messy burger back together. “You’re right. Not everyone grew up in the countryside like me.” You chuckled. “Well, I’m going to take you camping this weekend.” You paused. “Unless you have plans?”

“Nope.” Hyunjin smiled. “I’m 100% free.”

You beamed at Hyunjin. “Great! I know a great spot not too far from town. It’s near a secluded lake.” You took a giant bite of your burger, munching a bit before you finished. “It’s been a while, but I think there’s a small waterfall there too.”

Hyunjin chuckled and nodded. “I’ll go, but only if you eat with your mouth closed.”

“Rude.” You chuckled and wiped your mouth. “I happen to eat like a lady.”

“I disagree.” Hyunjin reached over the table and wiped your mouth for you. “But I love you anyway.”

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

Hyunjin pursed his lips as he bent one of the tent poles, sliding the two pieces together with ease. There we go! Now according to the instructions…

SNAP!

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hyunjin sighed as the tent fell to the ground — yet again. This was Hyunjin’s third attempt putting the tent together, with the instructions that came in the bag. There were many other embarrassing attempts that he’d rather not speak of… Every time he managed to get the tent put together, the damn thing would collapse. Perhaps he should admit defeat and ask you to put the tent together? After all, you were the camping expert.

“Hyunjin, I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t very good at putting a tent together.” You giggled as Hyunjin’s lower lip popped out.

“Hey, I’m trying my best.” He chuckled. “I wanted to get the tent put together while you were paying for the spot.” Hyunjin huffed and crossed his arms. “Which I told you I would do.”

“My treat.” You laughed. “I dragged you out here, the least I could do is pay for our amazing spot.”

You beamed at the camping space you two selected. The spot was surrounded by trees, far away from others, and the lake was just a short hike away. You had lawn chairs, a charcoal grill, and you weren’t too far from the bathrooms. Now you just needed to get that tent taken care of.

“Are you sure we’re not going to be eaten by a wild animal or something?” Hyunjin watched you piece the tent together with ease, mentally facepalming at how easy you made it look. “Okay that’s not fair.”

You chuckled as you headed over to your trusty old truck, grabbing a handful of blankets from the backseat. “Don’t worry Jinnie. I’ll fight off the deer for you.”

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped, brows creasing as he grabbed the armful of blankets from you. “I’m not worried about the deer you dork.” He threw the blankets into the tent before turning to you, hands on his hips. “I’m more worried about the bears.”

“We have bear spray for the bears.” You closed the door to the truck, your bag and Hyunjin’s slung over your shoulders as you headed to the tent.

“Let me help with that.” Hyunjin grabbed his bag and a couple grocery bags off your hands. “Are you sure bear spray is going to be enough?”

“Jinnie, we’ll be okay.” You smiled and tossed the bags into the tent. “Let’s get the tent all set up.”

Hyunjin smiled and crawled into the tent, hands working to spread the mess of blankets and pillows along the tent so the two of you would have a comfortable place to sleep. You helped Hyunjin stack the pillows along the sides, smiling at your handiwork when everything was completed.

“I have a surprise for you.” You grinned as you pulled out some glow in the dark stars from your bag.

Hyunjin threw his head back and laughed. “You really brought those?” He grabbed the box from your hand, eyeing up the sticky stars as he grinned. “But we’re out here, where we can see real stars?”

“Yeah, but this is our little home away from home.” You smiled. “You love those stars.”

“I love you more.” Hyunjin leaned forward and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. “So so much my love.”

There he goes again.

Hwang Hyunjin always knew how to make your heart soar. The ebony-haired boy had a way with words. “I love you too Jinnie.” You smiled and leaned into his chest. “I could lay here with you all day.”

Hyunjin hummed in approval as he leaned back against the blankets, pulling you onto his chest. “Why don’t we?”

For a split second, you agreed with him. Nothing sounded better than laying on Hyunjin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat while his fingers ran through your hair. His hand started to rub your back and you were suddenly entranced by the sweet affection that Hwang Hyunjin had to give.

But you came here for a reason.

“Jinnie, we could cuddle all day at home.” You buried your face in his neck, completely contradicting what you were about to say next. “I want to go to the lake.” Did you really? At this point, you weren’t sure. Laying in Hyunjin’s arms all day sounded like a good plan.

Hyunjin chuckled. “Of course my love. Let’s go so we can get back and snuggle.”

Oh, your heart…

You smiled when Hyunjin kissed your forehead before releasing his iron-like grip on your waist, allowing you to sit up. “Okay love.” You grabbed a couple of water bottles. “Are you ready to go on a hike?”

“As long as it’s with you.” Hyunjin smiled and grabbed his backpack. “But I’m bringing snacks.”

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

“Are we almost there?” Hyunjin pushed through a few branches, grunting when one smacked him in the face.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the poor boy as he rubbed the red mark on his forehead. “Oh my gosh, Jinnie are you okay?” You rushed to his side and grabbed his hand. “Here walk with me, I’ll protect you from those branches.”

“I’m not that fragile.” Hyunjin chuckled as he followed behind you. “How much longer?”

“What, you don’t like hiking?” You poked Hyunjin’s side, making the boy gasp and giggle.

“No, it’s not that, but you seem tired.” Hyunjin scrunched his nose before kissing your cheek.

Okay, he had a point. Hyunjin danced for a living. He was always in good shape. You, however… worked from home and you had a habit of binge-watching all the shows on Netflix versus actually leaving the house and getting some exercise. Sure you loved hiking, but that doesn’t mean you were in shape for it.

“We’re almost there.” You smiled as you pushed some more branches out of the way. “Actually we ARE here.”

Hyunjin’s sparkly eyes scanned the beautiful landscape, a soft “wow,” escaping his lips as he walked past the branches. “What a beautiful waterfall.”

The soothing sounds of water meeting water filled the air the closer you two came to the waterfall. Hyunjin’s hand rested on your lower back as you searched for a good place to sit. “Let’s sit over there.” You pointed to a log resting next to a few trees. That would make an excellent bench.

The two of you sat side by side as you munched on various granola bars and fruit snacks. The hike was only an hour, but you and Hyunjin were exhausted. It was well worth it though, to see his smiling face as he took in the beautiful sights of the lake.

“This is nice.” You smiled. “Thanks for coming here with me. I missed camping.”

“Of course.” Hyunjin grinned. “I’m having fun.”

“Do you think you’d want to go again?” You popped another fruit snack in your mouth, eager eyes waiting for his answer.

“I’d love to.” Hyunjin smiled. “As long as we don’t run into any bears.”

You couldn't help but giggle at Hyunjin as the boy chowed down on a granola bar. A comfortable silence filled the air as you and Hyunjin sat next to each other, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

You couldn’t help the blush that coated your cheeks as Hyunjin tilted his head back, ebony bangs falling out of his face as his eyes drifted shut. The sun illuminated the glistening sweat along his brow as a small smile tugged at his lips. “It’s hot out here.” Hyunjin fanned himself with his hand, despite thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the sun’s rays against his skin.

Yeah, it was hot, but it didn’t have anything to do with the sun…

“We should go swimming.” You smiled at the boy when his eyes opened. “It’ll cool you down.”

Well… that and you were kind of hoping to see your boyfriend’s toned chest under the bright sun. Hwang Hyunjin had a damn beautiful body — and if you played your cards right, you might be able to have that pretty body on top of yours.

“But we don’t have swimsuits.” Hyunjin chuckled. “What are we going to swim in, our clothes?”

You smirked and stood up, hands slowly pulling your shirt off your body. “I have another idea.” You couldn’t help but notice the dark blush coating Hyunjin’s cheeks as you reached behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the ground. If you weren’t so turned on right now, you’d be concerned about creepy crawlies getting up in your bra — but you were more interested in getting Hyunjin to get naked and hop in the water with you.

“Baby, what if someone comes?” Hyunjin’s hand ran across his mouth as if the motion would wipe the stupid grin off his face. You were always more adventurous than Hyunjin, and he LOVED that part of you, but getting naked in public? What if someone else came and saw the two of you naked in the lake? He’d rather get naked with you in the safety of the tent, where wandering eyes wouldn’t be able to catch you. “I don’t know…”

“Come on Hyunjin.” Your hands unbuttoned your shorts while you stepped out of your hiking boots. “Live a little.” You pulled your shorts down your hips, leaving you in your cute heart panties.

Hyunjin stood up and pulled his shirt off. “Fine.” He made quick work of his pants and underwear before bending down and yanking off his socks. “Let’s get this over with, so no one sees us.”

“You’re such a worrywart.” You giggled as you stripped the rest of the way down, tying your hair back before slowly wading in the water. “Come on in, the water’s nice!”

“Of course I’m worried.” Hyunjin followed after you, muscles rippling as the warm water ran against his skin. “What’s the point of this?

“The point?” You smiled. “We get to swim with a beautiful view, and I get to see my boyfriend naked.” You giggled when Hyunjin grabbed your waist and pulled you to his chest, fingers raking along your sides as he tickled you. “Hyunjin stop!” You laughed as you tried to escape his iron grip.

“Okay fine.” Hyunjin stopped his attack as he kissed you on the cheek. “But only because I love you.” His cheeks flushed slightly. “Besides, you’re way prettier than the view.” Hyunjin’s lips traveled down to your lips as his hands rested on your hips. “I guess I see why you wanted to skinny dip so bad.”

“Are you?” You giggled when Hyunjin silenced you with a kiss. “Jinnie, are you —”

“I want you.” Hyunjin’s brows creased. “I know it’s wrong. We’re out in public… anyone could see, but I want you.”

“It’s not wrong.” You pressed soft kisses along his jawline. “I want you too.” Your arms wrapped around his neck as Hyunjin pulled your legs around his waist. “I love you so much.” You tightened your legs around his waist. “Please?”

“Okay sweet girl.” Hyunjin rested his forehead against your chest as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your slit. “You have me.” Hyunjin slid himself inside you with ease, cock rubbing every single inch of your walls as he reached the hilt. “Fuck…” Hyunjin clenched his jaw, trying to keep from losing himself right there. There was something about the sweet way you begged for his cock, mixed with the danger of getting caught that sent the blood rushing straight to Hyunjin’s shaft.

You threw your head back and moaned, thoroughly enjoying the way your bodies fit together. It was as if the two of you were made for each other. Hyunjin’s cock fit inside you perfectly, tilting up slightly to hit your g-spot with every thrust. “Hyunjin, move please.” Your hands threaded in his hair as you rolled your hips against his. “I need to feel you inside me.”

Hyunjin bit your shoulder lightly before running his tongue along the mark, hips starting to thrust upward as his fingertips dug into your thighs. “Fuck you feel so good, baby.” Hyunjin moaned quietly as his lips traveled along your neck. “You always feel so good.”

Fucking in the water like this was a bit awkward. The two of you were trying to hurry so you wouldn’t get caught, and Hyunjin wasn’t really in the position to thrust, so the two of you were mostly just grinding your hips together, hoping the friction would bring you both to the edge. Fortunately, Hyunjin’s cock was hitting all the right spots, even without him properly thrusting inside you.

“Hold on sweetheart,” Hyunjin grunted as he gathered his footing, hips snapping into yours more effectively.

“Oh fuck.” You gasped as Hyunjin’s cock rammed right into your g-spot. The feeling of his cock pistoning into you mixed with the water splashing between your bodies brought you close to your high almost instantly. “Oh my God, Jinnie.” You moaned. “So good.” Your arms tightened around his neck the faster he went. “Fuck it’s so good.”

“I’m so close, love.” Hyunjin moaned pornographically. “I’m so close. Touch yourself, baby. Cum with me.”

Hyunjin’s soft voice nearly sent you into overdrive as you reached between your bodies to frantically rub your clit. “I’m close Jinnie.”

“That’s it sweet girl.” Hyunjin moaned as his hips started to snap erratically, falling out of the rhythm he once had the closer he came to his high. “Fuck I’m — ah.” Hyunjin buried his head in your neck as he came inside you, groaning when your walls clenched around him as you hit your own high. He held you close, thrusting shallowly as your eyes rolled in the back of your head, loud moans erupting from your lips as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm. You leaned forward, practically collapsing in Hyunjin’s arms as he held you. “You alright, love?”

“Mhmm.” You mumbled as you regained your breath. “You’re so good.”

Hyunjin chuckled as he pressed soft kisses along your neck. Exhaustion hit him all at once as he pulled out of you, a small smirk tugging at his lips when you groaned at the emptiness. “We should get out before someone sees us,” Hyunjin whispered in your ear.

“Let them see.” You sighed. “I want to stay in your arms.”

“If we head back to the tent, you can spend all night in my arms.” Hyunjin smiled, praying you’d take the bait. The last thing he wanted was to traumatize an innocent family with the sight of your naked bodies in the water.

“Okay.” You smiled lazily and slid off of his body. The two of you air-dried for a while before quickly dressing to avoid an awkward confrontation with an unsuspecting traveler. “That was fun.” You smiled. “We should do that again.”

“Have sex in the lake?” Hyunjin giggled. “I don’t know if I want to make that a habit.”

“Good point.” You pulled your shirt over your head and gasped. “Oh my God Hyunjin.” You pointed to a trail across from the lake, spotting a sweet looking family hike up the hill. “Quick put your shirt on.”

Hyunjin threw his shirt on, cheeks flushing bright red as the father waved at the two of you. “Hello, sir.” Hyunjin bowed to the man, praying they didn’t hear any of what happened just moments earlier.

“The water warm?” The man grinned as his kids started to take off their swimsuit cover-ups. “We heard there was a lake around here, but I didn’t think it would be this beautiful.”

“The water’s amazing.” You smiled and grabbed Hyunjin’s hand. “We’re exhausted from swimming so we’ll see you around!” You smiled as the family waved, practically dragging Hyunjin down the trail behind you.

“So we hiked through trees when there was a trail?” Hyunjin chuckled.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” You laughed. “We JUST finished fucking in there.”

“Guess we finished just in time,” Hyunjin smirked and slung his arm around your shoulders. “Now let’s go back to the tent and sleep. I’m exhausted.”

You smiled and leaned into Hyunjin’s side, wrapping your arm around his waist as the two of you walked along the trail. “Sounds amazing.”

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the-odd-job · 3 years ago

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Close Your Eyes to This Disaster Chapter 6: And You Say…

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use, Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers G1 Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Megatron Additional Tags: Dubcon, Sticky, Abusive Relationships, Mind Games, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 3163

( Previous )

The Prime—or Prowl, rather, he was the one to set up the schedules—kept his word: they were never put to any patrol longer than frustratingly short. On top of that, they no longer had patrols together, always paired with someone else rather than each other. That one had given them a fit that slagging Ironhide had needed to talk them out of. Since when was Ironhide the voice of reason?

That was discrediting the weapons specialist a little, admittedly. Age had granted him at least some sense, to the effect that he was perfectly reasonable with his arguments. Unfortunately he was also fairly hot-headed, as were the twins. There had been quite a bit of yelling from everyone involved. They had even gained an audience before the time that the twins accepted the fact that in this instance they were safer apart than together.

It still didn’t sit well with them, but they put up with it, in large part because the patrols were short enough that they were never away from each other’s vicinity for long. Despite the other mitigating factors on top of that, such as never being paired with anyone they didn’t get along with—mostly applying to Sunstreaker, that one—it was still enough to have the both of them turn irritable. Even Sideswipe, so known for his high spirits, was just as highly affected by what became the state of their spark. Was he not supposed to be, somehow? No, that was an impossibility.

And of course, there was the fact it wasn’t wise for them to leave the proximity of the Autobot base. It ceased to be an actual order, likely because Prowl realized they would’ve been that much more eager to go against it if it was one, but it was a piece of healthy advice that they actually did follow, for once. They weren’t free of their own concerns in regards to the situation, after all. With all of the memories… They knew more about Megatron now than they had ever thought possible, and a very large part of what they knew wasn’t flattering.

The physical disparity between them was bad enough, but pile on top of that Megatron’s personality and his pattern of always getting what he wanted… Could anyone blame them for harboring some worry, no matter how rare that was for them? They didn’t want to give in to Megatron, but slag, in practice that might be hellishly difficult.

Avoidance wasn’t going to work forever, they knew that much, but it was all they had for now.

End result was that they were a stressed mess on the inside, and it bled to the outside more than just a little. Everyone got in the habit of keeping as much distance from Sunstreaker as possible after the fourth time he got his aft locked in the brig for attacking someone without any real provocation—first Cliffjumper, then Tracks, the usual suspects they were, but after that it was Ironhide, then Hound of all mecha.

He didn’t get off any lighter than usual despite the command making it clear they understood why he was acting out so badly. They were assigned more combat practice as a response, though, just to give them more chances to burn off some of their unnerved energy. Ironhide took to being the one to mostly spar with Sunstreaker, after he, again, failed to go easy enough for it to really count as sparring anymore. The old mech could handle it even when Sunstreaker lost his cool and hit too hard—and Sideswipe wasn’t that much more careful.

Eventually it was the repeated rants they got from Ratchet when he was performing post-“spar” repairs that convinced them to hold back just a bit more.

And then there were the battles. First one, then two, and those were further help when they could just fragging let loose and beat someone to scrap. Prowl had to tell them to tone it down several times, and even so they got looks from their comrades after the Decepticons retreated. Look at the twins, turning even more unhinged than what they usually were! But at least the real fighting calmed them down for a week or two afterwards.

Neither time did it last, though, and then they were back to being holy terrors. Sideswipe held back on the violence, but his temper ran short and his words harsh. He still only managed to make Bluestreak cry one time. Of course he apologized after, was forgiven, and in further practice watched his vocalizer more at least around the gunner.

Sideswipe still became considerably less pleasant company than what he usually was, and aside of the command, no one knew for certain what was causing the change. There was confusion, theories, guesses, and most of them did revolve around Megatron after his more public interest in the beginning.

But they didn’t have the answers for the twins’ changed duties or their worsened behavior when the command respected their privacy and didn’t go tattling—and the twins themselves certainly weren’t about to share that much of their past life.

It was still annoying as all pit to be so affected by the warlord. They didn’t know if he was still trying to reach them. Did they imagine the lingering looks during the battles? Could be, after how hyperaware they became of him. Maybe it was nothing. And when they were away from the Ark… Was Megatron looking for opportunities to approach them, but simply didn’t get them, hence his absence?

Or had he stopped?

They couldn’t believe that. Megatron had made his desire clear, and he wasn’t the type to just stop when facing some resistance on the way to his goal.

And they were right in not believing.

It was a joyride. They were sticking relatively close to the Ark, and definitely close to a city, while still searching for some privacy to drive as fast as their spark was calling for. Just… Take what they could in their severely altered and limited life. Enjoy as much as they were able to and maybe have even a few moments of internal peace afterwards before all the tension came back and set them on edge.

Yet, it was clearly too far from other living beings, because after two curves they took–

He was standing in the shadow cast by the rise of rock on the side of the road—no signature this time either, or they would have noticed him before it was too late.

By the time Megatron stepped onto the road to block their way… It was already far too late. Too late to even slow the fuck down, in fact. They had just the time to curse, then initiate their transformations–

Only to barrel right into Megatron, the both of them. In a show of his size and strength, though, the tyrant had merely taken a steady stance and took the weight, velocity, and impact of both of them with no notable effort.

Sunstreaker stayed upright, staggering away as soon as he had enough wits about him to do so, but Sideswipe wound up sprawled on his back on the ground, groaning weakly from the ache of suddenly decelerated parts. Something had hit this, another had hit that… It was a good thing they were built sturdy; Megatron wasn’t much better than a solid steel wall. Even without any severe damage it still ended with some dented plating.

Their steel wall crouched in front of his scuffed brother—who quickly propped himself up on his arms—and Sunstreaker immediately checked his comms. They were–

…They weren’t blocked.

There was also no sight of Soundwave or anyone else.

Was it just Megatron? Alone? Could they have called the Ark right now and let them know they’d run into the unmaker again?

Instead of doing anything useful, though… Sunstreaker stood out of the way, dumbfounded as he watched Megatron reach for Sideswipe—Sideswipe was staring at the warlord with wide, wide optics, frozen in place–

And Megatron cupped the side of his helm.

They could have– They should–

They needed to call the Ark.

They didn’t.

“You have made it rather difficult to get a hold of you,” Megatron commented, glancing up at Sunstreaker briefly before his attention fell back to Sideswipe. A thumb brushed across his brother’s lips, and when surprise parted them, the thumb dipped in.

What the fuck rang between them, shock too deep for Sideswipe to even remember to do a damn thing as Megatron’s digit gently explored the inside of his mouth: stroking along his glossa, scraping against his denta–

“Didn’t want to see you,” Sunstreaker said after too much of a delay, hating the utter lack of aggression in his voice. Instead he was just breathless; almost a whisper.

But this wasn’t really going as they would have expected. He wasn’t sure what they were actually expecting, but this? This wasn’t it.

“Oh?” Megatron questioned. He didn’t sound offended.

The thumb retreated from Sideswipe’s mouth, but only for the tyrant’s claws to trace the curves of his helmet thoughtfully—with a frown. It was as if he was comparing the present to the past, noting all of the differences in their frame designs… And disliking what he saw.

Sideswipe shivered as the touch just continued. “What do you want?” the red twin asked in a murmur, staring up into the red optics bearing down on him with weight that pinned him in place.

“You,” came the answer, spoken softly.

They’d heard that before.

Sideswipe caught his lower lip between his denta and tried to forget, not think. Not think about that.

Not think of the past. Where was their resolve?

“Can’t have it,” the red twin managed with just the smallest hint of a growl in his voice.

“And why not?”

“You’re the enemy.”

“But I wasn’t always.”

“You were.” The bad they could remember.

Resolve.

Megatron changed the topic smoothly. “Why did you disappear?”

Silence. Sideswipe glared; Sunstreaker frowned, as much as Megatron wasn’t looking at him.

When they gave nothing in the way of an answer, the tyrant made a guess. “Was it because of your owner?”

Ugh… “Yes.”

“Not by choice?”

Was this the right spot to admit to anything? They hazarded an answer anyway. “…No?”

“There you have it,” Megatron rumbled, and they got the feeling they had already shared too much—given Megatron ammunition to use against them, if he wouldn’t have been able to guess correctly anyway. “You didn’t leave by choice. If you had gotten to choose, I wonder… Would you have left at all?”

Sideswipe bared his denta, only for the corner of Megatron’s mouth to pull into a smile. It was a genuinely amused little thing, as if he found their resistance charming. Not worth taking seriously, because what could they truly have done against him, even together?

The red twin went back to mere glowering, and they didn’t answer.

Megatron gave them a moment before he phrased the question differently. “Did you have any reason to leave?”

“Oh, you slagger,” Sunstreaker growled. Megatron didn’t avert his gaze from Sideswipe, but he didn’t need to. The golden twin continued, “Are you willingly forgetting all the shit you put me through, again? I had every reason to leave and my only fragging regret is that I didn’t so earlier.”

“You lie,” their old lover stated simply.

And that was all. He said nothing else. When it was confirmed that he would just let the silence reign and pet Sideswipe’s face with his thumb, Sideswipe was the one to speak their confused, “What?”

“Had you reason to leave, you would have simply left. Am I wrong?” He didn’t give them a chance to answer before he continued, “But you had no reason, and you didn’t leave before someone forced you.”

“It’s not that simple!” Sunstreaker tried to argue, gesturing angrily at nothing in particular–

But Megatron didn’t let him finish his argument. “Is it not? Didn’t you make it clear you would find a way to go, were you given a reason?”

Sideswipe opened his mouth to speak; Megatron cut him off before he could make a peep, “But I never gave you a reason. You stayed until someone else said you couldn’t anymore. Can you blame me for thinking you would have remained by my side otherwise?”

Sunstreaker ground his denta together but held onto his argument. “You kept me from leaving even if I had wanted to,” he accused as quickly as he could, before Megatron said anything more.

“If you had wanted to? Which is it? Did you want to, or did you not?” the tyrant asked, still holding Sideswipe captive as effectively as if his brother was paralyzed. His thumb brushed across his cheek, his nasal ridge, to his lips… It was hard to not focus on that too much. “Answer honestly. What do you have to lose by speaking the truth?”

Everything. Sunstreaker balled his servos into fists, turning his gaze to the side before the urge to beat the fragging bastard’s helm in got the better of him. Where would that have gotten him? Fragged into the ground again, if he knew anything about their lover.

But he wanted honesty? Slagging… What was the honest answer, anyway?

They could remember. Even that very last evening, they could remember. “No,” Sideswipe said, wanting so badly to turn his helm away from Megatron’s all-seeing scrutiny and too gentle touch, yet having not the freedom of motion to do so– “I didn’t want to leave.”

Their fields blushed with the old emotion—the thrill only Megatron could cause, heady and suffocating–

He’d never gotten enough of it. Everything had only added to the… Danger. The threat of what Megatron could have done to him, and yet… What he never did. No matter how he pushed, there were things Megatron never did, things he never said.

But what he did to so many others. Sunstreaker had been special. The exception. He had owned a piece of Megatron no one else did, that others scarcely even saw.

What was the tradeoff?

All the things they’d had… The things Megatron had done for them, never asking anything in return but their loyalty.

Megatron’s mouth pulled into a smile as true as any of his were, but this time Sideswipe was the one to speak before giving him a chance, “But that doesn’t mean I want to come back.”

“It does not?” Megatron questioned. “Do you hold loyalty to a faction you were forced into?”

“That’s past,” Sunstreaker growled. “Things have–“

“And not only that,” the warlord continued with no heed for his turn to speak, “but they knowingly took your memories. Why? Did they think it best you didn’t remember your past in fear of where your loyalty would be if you did? That it was better to have a soldier that was never given a choice, that knew of nothing else? Incapable of making an educated decision for himself?”

“Fuck you,” Sideswipe snarled, trying to yank his helm away, “You wouldn’t have given me a choice either.”

Megatron wouldn’t let him go anywhere, tightening his hold until Sideswipe was still again. “Oh, but I did,” he said, near growling now. “Hadn’t I already begun to gather my followers, formed the Decepticons? Didn’t I have more mecha join under my banner each and every day? Yet I never once told you you needed to do the same.”

That… Wasn’t untrue. They’d barely ever even discussed the rebellion despite how hard Megatronus—and later Megatron—had worked on it, had they? Megatron hadn’t brought work into their relationship.

He had to have read their uncertainty, because the growl turned into a purring rumble rising directly from the warlord’s engine—soothing, almost. “You see. But you can still choose. It’s not too late.”

“No,” Sunstreaker said immediately. “Let the past be past. Optimus, Prowl, Ratchet, ‘Hide—they never did anything to me and have nothing to do with the mistakes of others.”

“Haven’t they?” Megatron asked, lifting one of his optical ridges as if he didn’t believe him. “How do they treat you, really? With true understanding?”

They held to their silence, not that it would have necessarily mattered anyway. If Megatron wanted to speak, he spoke.

But their silence was an answer of sorts anyway, and the tyrant had more to say. ”What of the rank and file? Do they treat you as one of their own?”

“Yes,” Sideswipe spoke up at that, snarling. “I have friends, mecha that care about me–“

“If they truly cared about you, wouldn’t they learn to understand you, as I did?” He couldn’t have known if any of them did or didn’t, he was just making guesses–

Sideswipe bared his denta again. “It’s not that simple.”

“It isn’t? Do tell, what is so complex about it?”

“I work different than they do. They don’t understand something so disparate. They see two frames and think I’m two, they don’t see—and that’s normal–“

“You’re making excuses for them,” Megatron interrupted him. “I see you; what is preventing them from doing the same?”

Sideswipe’s jaw snapped shut and Sunstreaker frowned. What was preventing them? Their own biases and limited view of the world? Didn’t that apply to everyone?

Then why was Megatron different?

The warlord offered the one explanation he seemed to believe, “They don’t care about you enough to bother to understand something so special—so beautiful and unique,” he rumbled at them. Sideswipe blinked up at the gaze that had never once left him. ”Primus forbid they go through the trouble of doing so. How many have even tried? How many of them yet failed when it turned out to be too much effort?”

They’d spoken of these things, back in the Pits. They’d shared their frustrations with Megatronus, yet their acceptance of it all—they were alien on their own world and that was all most would see, it was something they just had to live with–

But also their pleasure over him being unlike most.

He wasn’t the only one. There had been others, even during the war–

But they were a rare breed and dead by now.

Megatron wasn’t, though. Megatron was living proof it could be done… Maybe not to perfection, but to an impressive point nonetheless, if one…

…Cared enough to do so.

“No,” Sideswipe said all the same, finding his growl for the next words, “you won’t have me.”

“Leave,” Sunstreaker continued with a snarl of his own, taking one step closer to Megatron and Sideswipe. Sideswipe tried to yank himself free again, but he only succeeded because Megatron let him.

Megatron let him pull away, get up, and step out of reach, rising from his own crouch at a leisurely pace. “Think on what I said,” he said, stepped two paces back and–

Transformed and took to the skies.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #megatron #sunstreaker #sideswipe #fic #2021 #disaster

9 notes · View notes

sinkix · 4 years ago

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《What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Nekoma Edition》

Yo-hoo! Here’s another part to this potential(?) series! I hope you enjoy the possible call-outs in some of these lmao. Writers block been kicking my ass recently but I had a lot of fun writing these. Enjoy <3

You can find the Karasuno ver. here

✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧

Kuroo:

Have a hand fetish and will not say no to choking.

Daddy kink™

Will not accept anything below 6 inches.

More of a dog person but would love to own a black cat.

You drool over tattoos.

Your grades are mostly B’s but you know in your heart you deserve that A, and tbh you probably do. Chase ur goals bby.

Halloween is likely your favourite holiday.

You have to resist not to carve a dick into the pumpkin EvEry GodDAmN YeAr.

You either study for 6 hours consecutively or cannot study at all and you get very frustrated at this.

Have the potential to be a good leader and command the room but probably don’t put it to use as much as you should.

Your playlist parkours from sad 3am crying into your pillow songs to aggressive punk music you could rob a store to.

You like bad boys who hang around bars and look like they would put out a cigarette on your forearm and call you a slut. Just stating facts sweaty xoxo.

Either dress very feminine and girly with a ‘smol girl uwu’ aesthetic or a hardass punk who would kick your ass for a can of beer no in between and tbh both are equally hot.

You’re a big softie at heart either way and just want to be held and told everything will be okay.

Ur a hoe for when people stroke your hair or caress your chin it’s your ultimate weakness.

Watched Rick & Morty.

Twice.

Sleeves rolled up veiny forearms and donning a silver watch are your muse and something you fantasise about frequently.

Most of your memes are shitty top text bottom texts that are somehow funny and I don’t understand why lmao.

You call someone ‘bro’ even if it’s someone you’re immensely attracted to.

Did someone say ties? No it’s just ur dirty ass thoughts thinking about that hot business dudes attire from across the street and how you wish they were tied around ur wrists.

Probably had a crush on Jeff the Killer as a tween and are relentlessly haunted by your old Wattpad library.

Tbh any dark-haired dude with bedhead that screams rugged and probably not good for you is something that draws you like a moth to a flame.

You often question why every person you’ve fallen for has been a Scorpio and curse that tendency of yours.

Dw man they’re hot so I feel u.

Kenma:

Went through a ‘I’m not like other __’ phase and it’s something that you think about a lot and wish you didn’t.

Watched dan & phil as a kid.

Any mention of Pokemon has you turning into a rabid beast you get way too excited.

It’s cute though dw bby.

Pretty antisocial but interesting to talk to.

Your family often question how you’re able to sleep in till 3pm and judge you heavily for it.

Nocturnal night owl gang rise up.

Frequently have bags under your eyes but somehow manage to pull it off.

Listen to ASMR on the down-low and will never admit it to a single soul.

Frequently go on BL binges and have many related book marks.

You pray that someone will never find your laptop bc holy fuck the amount of smut on that.

You wear scarves & beanies even when it isn’t that cold outside.

100% went through a scene hair phase/attempted to.

You dye your hair a lot or REALLY want to.

You have a voice kink low-key so anyone with a pleasant/soothing sounding voice just gets u goin’.

Cats are your favourite animal and you either do or want to own several.

Would name them after video game/anime characters u fuckin nerd lol.

Speaking of cats ,you fantasise heavily about cat-boys and have a folder dedicated to them.

Oversized hoodies are your vibe and always ball the sleeve hems in your fist as a comfort mechanism.

Shopping centres are your worst nightmare and trigger your claustrophobia or social anxiety and honestly I feel that spiritually.

Have a cute sticky note collection.

You like a lot of music consisting of guitar and slow/soothing beats.

You also fw EDM/ techno on occasions.

Honestly wouldn’t wanna anger you since you have a seething temper when pushed far enough.

It’s the kinda temper that’s eerily quiet but no less terrifying, like the other person can tell you are graphically plotting their demise.

You love sleeping to the sound of rainfall and often play those nature ambience videos while you sleep.

Never tidy your sheets and it’s just a big scrunched up heap of fabric in the centre of your mattress most of the time.

Make your fucking bed.

Lev:

Your ships are chaotic and shamelessly controversial.

Would do something just for the sake of creating mayhem lmao.

You were the fucker who stuck their chewing gum under the desk, I see you.

Your brain never stops whirring it’s a constant hurricane of crackhead energy and you have no idea how to turn it off.

Would eat a stick of pencil lead for $2

You don’t help your situation with the amount of coffee/energy drinks you consume.

The class clown who cries themselves to sleep.

Such a wholesome dumbass but somehow kinda intimidating???

Even if you’re not confident you can do something you’ll try anyway and honestly I respect that about you.

You !! use!!! a lot??!! of!! random punctuation!!! so you always??!?!? seem!!111!! excited!!!!!11!?

Every time you’ve ever tried to make a sandcastle it has failed.

You tried to eat the sand once but we don’t talk bout that.

You would also pick up slugs and snails and chase your friends around with them.

Can never tell whether people are laughing with you or at you and while you don’t let it show it high-key bothers you when you’re laying alone in your room at night.

Not one to hold grudges, you carry a ‘shit happens’ mentality which is v good but it sometimes leads to people taking advantage of it or walking all over you.

Your meme collection is both questionable and horrifying.

Like how many cursed images and heavily distorted pictures does one person need.

Never organise the files on your PC/laptop so it looks like a complete dumpster fire.

The one at sleepovers who persistently woke everyone else up with their snickering and refusal to sleep till dawn.

For the love of Asahi charge your damn phone.

I see that red bar and ‘12%’

Charge it now.

Bought a plant one time, gave it a name and talked to it frequently.

It died not long after bc u forgot to fucking water it.

No one better ever make you responsible for a pet.

Type of person that when someone asks you to tag along on an endeavour no matter how stupid it is you will agree.

2am skydiving in france? hell yeah.

Midnight shopping spree and spending over half your pay check? count you in.

Exploring an abandoned hospital and performing an Ouija board to summon the demons of hell? you’re damn right you’ll be there.

I hope you have a mum friend by your side bc if not how are you still alive.

You sometimes put the milk in before the cereal and it’s something I’ll never forgive you for.

Yaku:

Very responsible and usually make the right decisions.

You do have moments where you act like a complete dumbass though.

Like u go from 50 year old to 5 year old in the blink of an eye.

A hopeless romantic but it’s a side you don’t often reveal.

Prefer strawberry milk over any other flavour.

You’re the type of person to shower twice a day w/o fail.

Where that stank smell coming from? Not you clearly bc your skin is basically 90% The Body Shop’s rose scented soap at this point.

You get stomach aches a lot and you can’t figure out why.

Probably an allergy to everyone’s bs.

Really good at dirty talk even though you don’t seem the type so people are always taken aback.

You have to be really in the mood though otherwise it falls flatter than Oikawa’s ass, use your skill wisely.

You often call people clowns when you know you’re secretly the biggest one going.

Honk honk, hoe.

You send messages in one paragraph rather than multiple texts unless you are REALLY excited.

People underestimate you at times then are shocked when they realise you are capable of being a fire-breathing dragon from the flaming pits of hell.

You like spicy chicken wings.

Such a petty little shit at times lmao.

Enjoy the view from the top of mountains so you either hike a lot or really want to.

Way more of a cat person since it’s just much more convenient for you.

Usually pretty cheerful or calm and people are drawn to your stable/friendly aura.

Went through a phase of drinking mountain dew and your body still feels the awful effects

Fav element is probably air.

You’re 5′6″ or shorter.

Box dyed your hair brunette several times and can never get the pigment out to this day.

Yamamoto:

Whenever you smell something weird in the room you always internally freak out and think it’s you.

Head-butting walls is your hobby.

You fell off your bike as a kid and still have the scar on your knee.

Probably have tons of ear piercings.

Would tame a pigeon and call it Larry.

You get frequent nosebleeds and can never tell if it’s a medical issue or your extreme simping for fictional men/women.

Hopefully the latter.

You constantly chew your pen/pencil in class so you never lend them to anyone out of embarrassment.

I really hope no one ever lends you stationery bc 30 minutes later it’ll look like it was mauled by a rabid rottweiler.

You really want to own a dog and would call it something intimidating like Banshee or Diablo.

You bleached your hair that one time and it almost fell out so now you’re forced to stay at least 10 metres away from all at-home hair dye products.

You tried your best though bby so A for effort, even if it did look like dehydrated ramen afterwards.

Your grades are mostly C’s and you’re barely passing bc you just don’t care about your classes lol.

Still though you’re actually pretty smart so put it to good use you lazy oaf, channel that crackhead energy into something good.

Your phone screen has several cracks in it from when you dropped it on the bathroom floor while shitting and you’ll always be angry at yourself for that.

You have some really weird quirks but you make it work.

Actually a v chill person but you just kinda attract chaos/trouble wherever you go.

Carry a lighter with you even when you don’t need one.

Shy texter but once people see you irl you are the complete opposite, you just dk how to text without coming across as awkward.

One of those people that’s unintentionally funny and always get confused when you make someone laugh but it makes you feel good regardless.

Have a cool necklace collection and own at least one dog-tag/army style pendant.

Should really consider buying a rabbit you would look so cute w/ one.

You have really nice legs and people should compliment them more.

Either severely dehydrated or overly hydrated to the point you are peeing pure tap water so for the love of god please learn moderation, your kidneys and bladder will thank you for it.

Inuoka:

Your favourite character would be Hinata but you like people taller than you so your love for Inuoka spawned.

You really enjoy using the double spiderman meme.

Cannot correctly verbalise your feelings without creating a minimum of 10 misunderstandings but once people are used to it it’s kinda endearing.

You usually wake up in a good mood and people can never fathom how or why.

You either stay up till 5am or you wake up at that time no in between.

A morning person bc you love the sunrise.

Change your lock-screen very regularly bc you get bored.

Your humour consists solely of poop jokes.

When you don’t understand a joke you laugh anyway and hope they don’t ask you if you actually get it.

Happened once and you’re still traumatised from the cricket silence that fell upon the room.

Really like the taste of lemonade and drink it more often than you should.

Often think about what you would look like with a shaved head.

More of an extrovert but def have occasional introvert tendencies where you wanna be left tf alone.

Never allowed to pick up anything in stores bc the last time you did you sniffed a scented candle and it shattered to the floor.

Constantly have spontaneous ideas of what to change about your appearance.

You use a lot of hand gestures like thumbs up and peace signs.

‘Dude’ and ‘lmao’ is 90% of your vernacular.

Your nails are a disaster, some are down to the nub while others are pretty grown out bc you only bite a select few please sort it out.

Look really good in red.

Your laptop has way too many tabs open from random google searches of words you didn’t know the meaning to.

You read a lot of books but for like 10 minutes at a time bc you have the attention span of a walnut.

You are the type of person to nuke your AO3 tags with things that aren’t even relevant purely bc you found them funny.

Your Tumblr drafts are a nightmare, you have like 100+ in the works yet keep starting new projects why do you do this.

Happy sunshine but you have a LOT of mood swings like that shit comes out of nowhere.

Cry pretty often but no one ever sees and it’s usually because of said mood swings.

You always smile and pick yourself up again though which I commend you for.

TYPES IN CAPITALS IN SITUATIONS THAT DO NOT REQUIRE SAID PUNCTUATION SO YOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE YELLING ALL THE TIME.

#hq #haikyuu #nekoma #yaku morisuke #lev haiba #yamamoto taketora #kuroo testuro #kenma kozume #inuoka sou

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viking-raider · 5 years ago

Text

War Path *Fic Request*

Summary: Marshall is sent on a War Path, when you, his wife, and your daughter, Kate, are abducted by Simon Stulls.

Pairing: Marshall/You

Rating: R - Violence, language and sexual nature.

Word Count: 10,404

Inspiration: Request by @jessevans (x)

A/n: There’s dialog from the movie in the fic, I watched it repeatedly for inspiration and muse fuel.

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @dontlikeudoyle, @betkaskarpetka

(Cred to @henrycavilledits)

---

“I love you, dad!” Kate called as he started out the door.

“I love you too, sweetie.” he called back, then turned to you.

“Be safe at work, Marshall.” You told him, standing on tip-toe to kiss him good-bye.

“Aren't I always, y/n.” Marshall told you, kissing you.

You watched Marshall get into his truck, he looked at you and smiled, before pulling off to go to work at the station.

That memory kept playing over in Marshall's mind.

– –

Marshall leaned on his arms against his desk as he reviewed the file on his current case. He just didn't understand how the guy had killed all those girls, he had the IQ of two, and that was being generous. Yet, he'd managed to lure all those girls, imprison them, rape them, and then dispose of them so well that many of them still hadn't been found yet. All Marshall could continue to think was he was having help from someone, and if they found out who, then they could break the case and lock the bastards up. Sighing, Marshall dropped down in his chair and rubbed at his eyes with one hand, then ran his hand through his curly hair, he'd only been in the office for three hours and he already felt like he had been there for thirty. He glanced at the picture frame on his desk of you and Kate, smiling bright and laughing, he'd taken the photo himself the winter before, when the two of you had outvoted him and went ice skating. Marshall found that the photo of you both was a simple solution to grounding him again while he was working, especially on hard cases like this one with Simon Stulls. There was a knock on his door, pulling him away from the picture.

“Detective,” it was regular uniformed officer. “Mrs. Chase is going to be doing a profile interrogation on that Stulls guy.”

“Alright, thanks.” Marshall sighed again, scrubbing a hand over his bearded face, and hauled his tall frame out of his chair to go down and watch the session.

Marshall joined Commissioner Harper in the viewing room to watch Rachel Chase talk to their perp. “Wow, Marshall you actually look good, what've you been up too?” Harper grinned, as Marshall folded his arms and watched Simon through the one way mirror. “Or is y/n slipping tranquilizers in your dinner?”

“Probably.” Marshall answered, not in the mood for banter.

Dickerman came into the room, holding a bag with some kind of device in it. “Look at this, it's the device he used to cause those girls' deafness, a pressurized air valve. Custom made and all. It injures the soft tissue in the ear.” she explained to them.

Marshall looked from the device to Simon, he snatched the device from Dickerman and moved out of the room and into the interrogation room, slamming the device down on the table beside Simon and scaring the hell out of him. Simon instantly started freaking out seeing the device, sliding as far away from it as he could with his hands cuffed to the table, and became hysterical.

“That's how he caused all those girls to go deaf.” he barked at Rachel, above all of Simon's crying and incoherent babble.

“Marshall...” Rachel started to protest.

“You're the one that wanted to be in here.” He cut her off, worked up.

“and I asked you not to be in here.” she countered.

Shaking his head, Marshall went back out of the room, slamming the door behind him, to scare Simon even more, and went back into the viewing room, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as he watched Rachel continue to interview him. When the interview and what paperwork he needed to do was finished, Marshall decided to go home. It was well past midnight when he did finally get home. He closed and locked the front door quietly, not wanting to dist rub you and Kate, who he knew were asleep. Dropping his police bag on the floor by the door, he went into the kitchen and saw the covered plate of spaghetti on the counter for him, with a sticky note on it, in your handwriting.

Hope you caught the bad guys. <3

Sighing heavily, he squeezed his eyes shut and unwrapped the plate. He thought it was hard, when he was still on SWAT and got home late, missing dinner with you both nine out of ten times. He remembered being on a SWAT call and getting the call from you after that Kate had taken her first steps, or when she said her first word, which ironically was, Da. He thought it would be easier, better hours, if he moved to Homicide when Kate was a year old. And the hours had been for the first year, until he got promoted to lead detective and the hours became even worse than the hours for SWAT. Marshall didn't know how you did it, while he was out at all hours catching criminals, you were here at home with your daughter, holding the house down. You did everything, kept the house neat and clean, took Kate to and from school, made it to all her school events, soccer and gymnastic, doctor's appointments, homework and have dinner on the table, on time. You never complained about him hardly ever being home, you understand his job was vitally important to the citizens of the city. You were unendingly proud of him, and you always told him that. Marshall didn't know how he deserved such a strong woman, flawless wife and incredible mother to his daughter. But, he'd never allow anything to hurt either of you.

He finished eating, washed his plate and silverware so you wouldn't have to when you got up in the morning, and went up stairs. He pushed open the door to Kate's room and walked quietly in, letting the light from the hallway to flood into her room, to see her. He stood there in the dark for a moment, watching her sleep peacefully. Watching the rise and fall of her chest, to ensure the nagging voice in his head that she was safe, well and alive. He'd seen too many girls her age be dug up and found locked up because of Simon in the last week, and it fed into that obsessively protective dad voice in the back of his paranoid head. Reassured, Kate was perfectly fine, Marshall walked back out of her room, leaving the door cracked and finally made his way to the room he'd been thinking of all day. He got to the master bedroom and noticed the light coming from underneath, and frowned. Pushing the door open, he found you propped up against the pillows, sound asleep and your kindle resting on your chest. Marshall's chest wrenched, realizing you'd been reading in bed, trying to stay awake long enough to see him come home.

“Hey.” he whispered, picked the kindle up and setting it on your bedside table. “Y/n.” he called, cupping your cheek in his hand and tilting his head to look at your face.

“Marshall?” You whispered, you like everyone one else in his life, minus his mother and Kate, called him Marshall, because he absolutely hated being called Walter.

“Yeah, sweetie.” He smiled, stroking your hair.

“How was work?” You asked, opening your sleepy eyes to look at him.

He shook his head in a so-so manner, and sighed, moving away from you to get out of his thermal sweater and jeans. “The case is stressful, as always.” he told you, getting into bed beside you and resting back against the headboard. “I don't know how the guy we have, could have done it alone, he's not mentally capable, or sound, for that matter.” he dropped his head back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling.

You moved close to him, wrapping your arms around his muscular one, and rested your head against his shoulder, rubbing your cheek against his bare skin. “You'll figure it out, Marshall.” you assured him, closing your eyes. “You always do, babe.”

Marshall turned his face into your hair and closed his eyes; your scent and the solid warmth of your body against his, just your presence alone, gave Marshall the relief and grounding he needed after a long shitty day. The pair of you fell asleep, just like that. Marshall was woken up the next morning by the buzzing of his cell phone. Jolting up right, he snatched his cell off his night stand and looked at the message.

“Fuck.” He growled, getting up and throwing on clothes to race downstairs.

“What's wrong, Marshall?” you asked, seeing him in an agitated hurry.

“The asshole from my case just managed to kill six cops, while still in custody.” he said, yanking on his boots.

“Oh my god.” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest as your stomach sank.

“I have to go.” Marshall said, picking his bag and keys up, and racing out of the house, without even kissing you good-bye.

– –

“How the fuck did he kill six cops, while in custody, if he's not getting some type of help?” Marshall argued with Rachel and Harper.

“He could have rigged it to go off on a timer.” Harper suggested.

“A timer he'd have to set up, if he knew we were coming for him, which he didn't.” Marshall told him, reasonably.

“Perhaps there are two of him.” Rachel suggested, following Marshall's train of thought. “I always felt like there were two of him, but, I always figured that second him, was a personality. What if, Marshall's right, and there's a second person, helping him.”

Marshall threw up his hands, exasperated, and frustrated that they were finally getting his point.

“Alright, let's go with it, then.” Harper folded, “I want you to check out whatever you can on his life, Rachel. I don't care, if you have to burn down the house, just find out what skeletons this idiot has in his closet.” he told them, before leaving.

“Alright, so, when we did our first search on Simon, we found out that his mother committed suicide, but, before that she was sexually assaulted, which resulted in Simon's birth, and reached a settlement for it. The county backlogs all the interviews for sexual assaults, in case of review. So, all we have to do is go down to the archives and find the tapes.” Rachel explained, yanking open the door.

“Alright then.” Marshall said, following her to the elevator and down to the basement where the files were kept. “Hey, Harper, I need two teams down in archives to help dig up--”

“Got it.” Rachel called, picking up the box of VHS tapes.

“Hold on that.” Marshall said, hanging up his phone.

“You wanna meet Simon's mother?” she asked.

Rachel and Marshall sat down and watched the tapes, making notes on anything that seemed of use. After watching all of the tapes, Marshall went back to his office looking over his notes and the file they already had on him, when a huge explosion rocked the windows of his office. Spinning around he saw the car parked out on the street on fire and a huge plum of charcoal black smoke rise into the air. Dropping the files in his hands, Marshall raced down to the street and skidded to a stop beside Glasgow, who stood staring, shocked, at the car with tears streaming down his face.

“Are you alright?” Marshall rested his hand on the tech's shoulder. “What happened?”

“I was going home, Quinn was walking with me and I told him I'd see him tomorrow and he got into his car.” Glasgow explained in a robotic voice. “I turned to go to my car, as Quinn got into his, then it blew up.”

Firefighters worked to put the fire out, and all the officers and people in the precinct knew that there was no way for Quinn to survive, making the case with Simon even more personal for them. Marshall went back into the office after the fire was put out and the team made a search of what remained of the car and took it to the lab. He found Rachel outside his office waiting for him. He stopped in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest, readying himself for whatever it is she had for him.

“We hacked Copper's computer and found he was talking to someone called Hunter. Hunter 71.” She explained, referencing the judge. “If you want to come down to the lab with me and check it out, might give you some type of distraction.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, tried, and nodded his head, following her down to the Cyber tech lab. He looked at the computer monitor of the female techie as Rachel went over what they had found on Cooper's computer, when Dickerson entered the lab, grabbing their attention.

“The explosive in the car was pentaerythritol tetranitrate. Commonly used.” she explained. “However, the compounds in the trigger are unique. High-intensity, stable, low surrounding impact, and dense. Expensive. Military Grade.”

“Simon said that, Santa comes and drops money off at the house every year.” Rachel said, rubbing the side of her face. “Maybe Santa pays the bomb maker.” She suggested, pressing her hand to her cheek as exhaustion started to finally set in.

“Run a search for military personnel in the state, born in 1971.” Marshall told the tech.

The tech typed in the search in the police database.

“Okay, which of those are trained in explosives?” Rachel asked, seeing how big the hit was.

“No longer in service.” Marshall added.

The window popped open on the screen showing three hits, two in red were deceased and, one in green, still living, was Lewis Redston. Getting the hit, Marshall got the all clear to track Redston to the factory he was living and working out of. He suited up, the old excited feeling of being on SWAT coming back over him as he picked up the assault rifle from the rack and going out to his truck. He pulled his phone out of his pocket before they drove to the factory five minutes away, and called you on the phone, it was a old habit he'd developed when he was still on SWAT to let you know he was going into a hot situation, he loved you and not to worry, which was futile cause you would. But, he caught himself before he hit the call button, he hadn't called you for that reason in years, and felt odd that he'd started to do it now. Shaking his head, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, and turned his mind to focus on the task ahead.

Getting to the factory, Marshall felt the adrenaline start pounding in his veins as they swung the door to the building open and entered. They started sweeping the building when shots started ringing out, one bullet hitting one of the officers. The order to pop a smoke bomb was given, giving the group the opportunity to retrieve the injured member and pull him to safety. Marshall hid behind a iron pillar as more bullets rang out, and ducked into a squat as a bullet hit the pillar by his head. Squatting down, he noticed the trail of blood going up to where the shooting was and carefully followed it, sneaking up on the shooter.

“Cease fire! Cease fire! Turn around.” he yelled at the man in the wheelchair, pointing his gun at him.

“Stay back!” the man warned, then pointed his hand gun under his chin.

“Wait!” Marshall yelled.

“We both know why you're here.” Redston remarked, resting the muzzle of his gun on his chest.

“You sold a trigger explosive to a man that abducted and killed more than ten girls.” Marshall told him, easing off his gun.

“What?”

“Don't you have a fucking newspaper?” Marshall snapped at him, frowning, and watching the expression on Redston's face dawn with recognition. “What else did you make him?” he asked.

“Uh, a signal blocker for cell phones.” Redston told him. “It was nothing.” he sighed as it all struck him. “That was the guy who locked up all those women?”

“Yeah.” Marshall nodded. “Someone out there has been---”

Marshall didn't get the opportunity to finish his sentence as Redston pointed his gun back under his chin and pulled the trigger, making Marshall wince.

– –

Rachel sat on the floor in the storage room after a hard interview with Simon. She wiped at the tears streaming down her face as an officer came in carrying a box and set it down on the floor in front of her.

“This came for you at the front desk.” he said, looking her over. “I signed for you, so you could have a break.”

“Thanks.” she sniffed, sitting forward to look at the box. “It's been a hard day.”

“You wanna get some ribs?” he asked, standing back up with a look that told her, he just wanted to help and give her a distraction from everything going on.

“No, I'm good. Thank you.” she told him, pulling the shipping label off the box.

Nodding, he left her alone to look at the box and whatever was in it.

“Marshall.” She frowned seeing Marshall's name on the sender's section of the label, and pulled a note off the top of it. Setting the label down, she unfolded the note.

“Winterbug, Winterbug

I'll throw you onto the ice.

Freeze or burn, til you play nice...

Tick Tock, Tick Tock....

Run, Silly Bean.”

“Everyone get out!” she screamed, running out of the storage room.

– –

Marshall was still at the scene of the factory when he noticed Harper pull up. He got into the passenger seat of the Commissioner's car, to talk to him.

“You know, I have to yell at people to get them to listen to me.” Harper commented as soon as Marshall closed the car door. “You don't.”

“What are you doing here, Harper?” Marshall asked, still not in the mood for his banter. “It's freezing cold, in the middle of the night.” he pointed out. “You don't--Well, I know you don't want to be here.”

Harper laughed, “I despise down time.” he told Marshall. “My wife use to scold me about never taking any. So, it doesn't feel right to put up my feet, where hers should be. You know.” He explained. “I'm still used to seeing you look like shit. You look, like, almost normal.” he chuckled, picking up his earlier comment. “What's going on?”

Marshall smiled, staring out the front window. “I'm just--” he paused, nodding his head slightly at him. “You know.”

Harper nodded back at him, getting it. Their conversation was cut short by the radio in his car turning on and radio dispatcher calling over it. “Bomb threat at the Police station. Everyone evac. I repeat, everyone evac.”

“Shit.” They both uttered, and Marshall got out of Harper's car to go to his own, and they both rushed over to the station.

Marshall got out of his truck. “Rachel, where is he?” he asked her, as she approached him.

“He's in his cell.” She told him. “The package came from you.” she added.

“This is bullshit.” Marshall told her, picking up his pace towards the station. “He's not going to blow himself up.” he started to run for the door.

“How do you know?!” Rachel yelled out to him, as he went down the stairs into the station.

“Cause then the game is over!” He yelled back, yanking the door open.

Marshall run down the hall and to Simon's cell, barging in and looking around it. “Fuck!” he barked, seeing it empty. He ran down the hall again, skirting around a corner and up the stairs to the storage room where the box was. He got into the room as the bomb techs were carefully opening it.

The techs carefully cut the tape on the box and slowly pulled back the flaps. They didn't find a bomb, but they were shocked to find a baby inside. Marshall's heart plummeted recognizing the baby in the box as Glasgow's daughter, seeing her and not seeing any signs of life, all he could think of was Kate. He pressed his hand over his face, hearing Glasgow's screams from outside in the hall, coming closer.

“Alicia!” Glasgow screamed, tearing into the room and dropping to his knees seeing his daughter in the box.

To the immense shock, and relief of the group, Alicia sneezed suddenly and yawned up at them, blissfully unaware of the terror going around her. Glasgow picked her up in his arms, pressing her to his chest and sobbed as he backed out of the room. Marshall stood there for several more moments, collecting himself, before having the overwhelming need to go home and hold both you and Kate tightly in his arms. He'd made it as far as his truck when he felt his cell buzzing in his front pocket, checking it, he saw your caller ID and felt instantly relieved. You always did have an odd sense of when he needed to hear your voice, and called him, he figured it was one those moments.

“Baby.” He answered, letting the relief show in his voice.

“Marshall.” You answered back.

The sound of your voice made both his stomach and his heart plummet again, he could hear the tear stained fear in it. “Y/n, what's wrong? Tell me, right now.” he demanded, his hands starting to shake.

“Marsh...” you started to say, but was cut off.

He heard you yelp, and Kate crying in the background. “Y/n!” he yelled into his cell.

“Hello, Detective Marshall.” Simon's voice came over the phone.

“Don't you fucking touch either of them, you freak!” Marshall barked, his eyes widening with anger and fear. “I swear to God, I will kill you, if you hurt them!” he threatened, his free hand tightening into a fist, as he tried to gain control of himself.

“Oh, what's the fun in taking them, Marshall.” Simon taunted him. “If I don't get to play with them.” he laughed, drowning out the sound of you and Kate crying.

Marshall's stomach twisted in knots. “I'm going to fucking kill you, Simon.” he growled over the phone. “And it won't be pretty.” he vowed.

“We'll see about that, Silly bean.” Simon laughed harder. “Say good-bye, Detective.” he said, holding the phone out to You and Kate.

“Marshall!” you yelled, hugging Kate against you.

“Daddy, help us!” was the last thing Marshall heard before the line went dead.

“Fuuuccck!” Marshall screamed at the top of his lungs, disturbing the cold night air around him and slamming his hands flat against the hood of his truck several times.

He raked his hands through his hair and stormed back into the station, “Rachel!” he yelled through hallways of the station. “RACHEL!” he screamed louder, getting even more irritated and frantic.

“Hey, hey!” Harper called, coming out of his office, hearing Marshall causing an uproar. “Marshall, what's wrong?”

“That fucking bastard has y/n and Kate.” Marshall barked, pacing the hallway like a caged tiger. “He fucking kidnapped my family, Harper.” He said quieter, his accent breaking as he did. “Simon has them.” he stopped in his tracks, pressing his hands to his face and crouched down, letting the emotions overwhelm him.

– –

You were making Kate dinner, when there was a knock on the door. Sighing, you stopped what you were doing and went to go answer it, you frowned seeing a medium height, blond man standing there. “Can I help you?” you asked him, the pit of your stomach giving you a bad feeling.

“Are you, Mrs. Marshall?” he asked you, looking you over with a look that made the feeling in your stomach grow.

“Do I know you?” you asked, taking a step back.

“No.” He smiled, sinisterly. “But, your husband does.” he said, pulling a gun from his jacket and pointing it at you.

“Oh...god..” you panted, feeling sick.

You backed away from the door as he came in, you looked around trying to find anything that you could use as a weapon to defend you and Kate. But, you saw nothing. You watched him look around the living room, kitchen and downstairs bathroom, you could only guess he was looking for anyone else in the house, making you pray to god Kate stayed up in her room, quietly.

“Is there anyone else in the house?” he asked you.

“N-no.” you shook your head, eyes locked on the muzzle of the gun.

“Don't lie to me!” He screamed, cocking the gun and shooting the wall next to you, making you yelp in surprise. “I know you and Marshall have a daughter, where is she?”

“She's at a friend's for a sleep-over.” You lied again, and yelped again when he shot the wall for a second time.

“Mom!” Kate called from upstairs, making you squeeze your eyes shut and take a shuttered breath.

“Call her down here!” he barked at you.

“Look, whatever you want, whatever is between you and my husband...” You started to beg him. “Just take me, and leave my daughter alone...she's just a kid.”

“I told you to call her down,” Simon growled, impatient. “If I go up there, it won't end well for either of you.” he warmed. “SO, CALL HER DOWN HERE!” he barked at you.

Taking several deep breaths to calm yourself, you called upstairs to your daughter. “Kate, sweetie, can you come downstairs, please.”

“Why?” She called back.

You rolled your eyes, of all times for her to employ pre-teen attitude. “Because I asked you too, young lady.” you replied, in your best authoritative voice.

Kate's groan was audibly from down the stairs. Ordinarily, if she'd pulled that you'd have sent her back to her room, and gone up to take her phone and laptop from her as punishment. But, you both found yourselves beyond ordinary circumstances. She came pounding downstairs and stopped dead on the second to last step, seeing Simon pointing the gun at you.

“Mooom?” she whispered, eyes wide with fear.

“It'll be alright, honey.” you told her, still watching Simon. “Hey, don't fucking point that at her.” you barked at Simon as he started to point his gun at Kate.

“Or what?” he taunted you, pointing the gun back at you.

“Hell hath no fury like a mother's love.” You quoted to him, slowly feeling your anger replace what fear you had; mother bear mode was starting to kick in.

“Don't you dare talk to me about mothers.” Simon sneered at you.

“Why, do you need one?” Kate asked, in a voice you wanted to take credit for, but, it oozed Marshall's sarcastic wit, a hundred percent.

Agitated, Simon popped off another round into a wall, instantly startling Kate and the sarcastic wit she had crumbled, making her cry and show the real eleven-year old she was. You instinctively started to move towards her, but stopped seeing Simon tense up.

“Where's your cell phone?” he demanded of you.

“In-in the....kitchen.” You told him, tempering your fear and want to be angry, for the safety of Kate.

“Get it, and don't do anything funny, or the next shot will be at your daughter.” Simon told you, cocking the gun again, and pointing it at Kate.

Your blood boiled as you carefully eased yourself into the kitchen and picked your cell phone up off the counter and went back into the hallway with them. “Alright, I have it.” You said, showing it to him.

“Call your husband.”

“Okay.” you gulped, unlocking your screen and hitting Marshall's speed dial.

“Baby.”

You could hear the pained relief in his voice, telling you he'd had a bad day, and knowing it was going to get a whole lot worse. “Marshall.” You answered, tears automatically falling.

“Y/n, what's wrong? Tell me, right now.” he demanded.

“Marsh....” You yelped, as Simon snatched the phone out of your hand.

“Y/n!”

Simon put the call on speaker, “Hello, Detective Marshall.” he smiled.

“Don't you fucking touch either of them, you freak!” You heard him scream on the other end. “I swear to God, I will kill you, if you hurt them!” Marshall threatened, only making Simon smile even more.

“Oh, what's the fun in taking them, Marshall.” Simon taunted him. “If I don't get to play with them.” he laughed as you and Kate cried.

“I'm going to fucking kill you, Simon.” Marshall growled over the phone. “And, it won't be pretty.” he vowed.

“We'll see about that, Silly Bean.” Simon laughed harder. “Say good-bye, Detective.” he said, holding the phone out to you and Kate.

“Marshall!” you yelled, hugging Kate against you.

“Daddy, help us!”

Simon laughed, dropping your cell on the floor and smashing it to bits under his foot. You held Kate as tightly against you as you could, watching him destroy your phone. Fear, anxiety and anger racing through you, making your heart pound and your body jittery with adrenaline. You wanted to be, and were, extremely scared, but you also knew Marshall was coming for you and Kate. You didn't know how, or when, but you knew he was, and when he did, Simon was going to get one hell of a beat down.

“Get up!” Simon barked, waving the gun at them.

Pulling Kate up with you, you stood up at his command.

“We're going outside to my car, if you make any sudden moves or any eye contact with anybody, I'll fucking kill you right there.” he told you, stepping aside and motioning the door with his gun.

“Okay.” You nodded, moving you both to the door. “It'll be alright.” you whispered to Kate, pulling the door open and making her go out first, so you were between her and Simon.

Simon pulled open the back of his van and shoved you and Kate inside, before slamming the door shut again. You leaned back against the van wall and held Kate against your chest, stroking her hair and trying to calm her down as much as possible.

“I'm scared, mom.” she whimpered.

“I know, baby.” you whispered back, rubbing her back. “But, daddy's going to find us.” You cupped her face in your hands and made her look you in the face. “Daddy's going to come for us, alright. You just remember that, whatever happens, remember Dad's going to save us. It's his job to protect us, and it's his job to find bad men like Simon, and make them pay.” You reassured her, holding her head against your chest, and squeezing your eyes shut against the hot tears burning in your eyes.

You had to stay strong for her, and you had to stay that way long enough for Marshall to find you both, or at least until he found Kate, if push came to shove.

Simon got into the van several minutes later, slipping into the driver's seat and started the van up. “We're going to enjoy our play time together.” he grinned in the rear-view mirror, and laughed seeing the dark expression you shot back at him.

– –

“Is there any fucking thing else, we know on this bastard?” Marshall asked, pacing in the tech room as he, Rachel and the computer tech worked on finding anything that could give them a hint, or a lead, on where to find Simon, and ultimately you and Kate.

Before either the tech or Rachel could answer his question, his phone rang. “What?” he barked, not even checking to see who it was.

“Marshall, it's Cooper.”

“What do you want, Cooper?” Marshall asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“I heard what happened.” Cooper told him, understanding some of what Marshall was feeling and thinking. “The Commissioner and I have found the mother's file in the Archives, 1976. Amy Stulls. Rape and attempted murder. The settlement was out of court for $1.4 million, but the payee's name is not listed in the reports.” he explained.

“Great.” Marshall said, feeling some of his blood pressure go down as he walked out of the tech room. “Can you come down to the station?” he asked, walking down the hall to Harper's officer.

“I'll do my best.” Cooper told him, turning around as Marshall entered the office.

Marshall narrowed his eyes at the judge turned hacker vigilante. He moved between Cooper and Harper, who sat in a chair in front of his desk. “Make yourselves comfortable.” Marshall said, plopping down into his chair, behind his desk, as Cooper dropped at thick, white file folder down on his desk. He flipped it open and started looking through it, finding huge chunks of the report was blacked out.

“Well, he's covered his tracks well.” he said, leaning back in his chair as his office phone rang. He answered it, putting it on speaker phone. “Yep?”

“The father's name isn't on any of the reports.” Rachel replied. “and I can't find any thing on him in the database.” she explained, frustration clear in her voice, you and Rachel had become great friends throughout her time with Marshall, you'd become one of her confidential friends in the problems she was having, especially with her cheating pig of a husband. “If the commissioner had given me the fucking time that I needed to find it, instead of fucking yelling at me, then maybe we'd have a clue where he was right now, so we could save y/n and Kate.”

“Are you going to word it that way in your report?” Harper asked, catching her off-guard. “We know he knew the mother and that he paid her off. If he didn't own that textile factory, then see who does own the building.”

“Patching it through.” Rachel told him, leaning closer to the monitor.

“MCG industries. A state-wide textile and supply distributor.” the Techie read it off. “Founded by David McGovern. Recently in a car accident with one, Michael Cooper.”

Marshall's head snapped up to look at Cooper, who looked as shocked and caught off-guard as he was. Cooper replayed the incident in his head, remember the older man he'd gotten into the accident with, when he was chasing after, who he now knows as Simon, when he abducted Lara.

“McGovern's also serving as chairman of the board of benefactors to Flexton Prep, where he currently resides on campus.” the Tech added.

Marshall and Harper exchanged looks, and Marshall was up and going before he finished processing another thought. The team rushed to McGovern's residence, when they got into the hall leading to McGovern's apartment, they could hear Simon yelling at the top of his lungs. They busted down the door and swarmed in, finding Simon sitting at a dining room table, and David McGovern all bloody on the living room floor, clutching a bear.

“Drop the fucking knife, Simon.” Marshall yelled, pointing his gun at him, and fighting the overpowering voice in his head telling him to shoot Simon right there. But he didn't, he needed the bastard alive to find you and your daughter. “Drop it!” he barked one last time.

“I want my bear!” Simon sobbed, rocking back and forth in his chair. “I want my bear.” he kept repeating over and over again.

“Shut the fuck up.” Marshall barked back, slamming his against the dining table, forcefully. “Only thing you're getting is handcuffed.” he said, yanking Simon's hands behind his back and slipping his hands into cuffs, tightening them painfully.

“I want my bear!” He kept yelling.

Rachel looked at the body of McGovern, realizing that he was Simon's father, and leaned over to take the brown teddy bear from his cold hand. “Is this the teddy bear your mommy gave you?” she asked, holding the bear up for him to see.

“Mommy's bear.” he cried. “I want mommy's bear!”

“I'll give you Mommy's bear, if you tell us what we want to know.” Rachel bargained with him. “How about that? Bear for what we want.”

“Yes, yes!” he nodded, rocking his body. “Want Mommy's bear.”

“Good.” She nodded at Marshall, who hauled Simon up out of his chair and dragged him out of the apartment to the awaiting police car, so they could take him back to the station for interrogation.

– –

You were both freezing in the back of the van by the time Simon had driven you and Kate to wherever it was he was taking you. He parked and got out, you could hear the crunch of snow under his feet as he approached the back of the van, making your fear spike again.

“You remember what I told you, Kate?” you asked her, looking down at her face.

“Yeah, that Daddy was coming to get us.” she answered, shivering.

“That's right.” you nodded, breathing hard and trying to keep a strong face for her. “Whatever happens to me, Kate. I need you to stay strong and wait for him to come, do you understand me, Katelin?”

“Why are you saying this?” she asked, fear starting to really show in her blue eyes, that where identical to Marshall's. Even that brown fleck in the top, but hers was in her right eye, while Marshall's was in his left eye. “What's going to happen to you, Mom?”

You smiled at her, but the fear and worry you were feeling showed in it, as you brushed her long, curly chocolate brown hair out of her face; making you wonder for a moment, what of you she had, she seemed to have so much of Marshall's in her. “I don't know if anything will, Kate. But, I'm just covering all the bases.”

“You sound like dad.”

That got a genuine smile on your face. “When you're married to a Detective, like your father, for almost fifteen years,” you quipped. “things start rubbing off on you.”

The back door thrust open and Simon grabbed you by the hand, yanking you out of the car, followed by Kate. It was really dark outside and snowing, adding to how cold you and Kate were already, seeing neither of you had jackets, just thin shirts and jeans. He dragged you both into a house, it was a huge three story and well furnished, from what you could see. Forcing you through the foyer and into the living room, Simon yanked open a door between the living room and kitchen, which you correctly presumed was the basement. The basement itself spanned the entire house, full of junk and whatnot, he turned into a long room to one end of the basement, where there were padlocked stalls made out of thick plywood with a narrow slot window was cut into the door. Unlocking one of them, he shoved you both inside, slammed the door and padlocked it again.

“I'll be back in a bit, then we can play.” he smiled, through the slot before walking away, leaving you two in the dark, cluttered and smelly stall.

You slid down the far wall, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping an arm around Kate's shoulders and she sat next to you, resting her head on your shoulder. You rested your head back against the wall and stared up at the dark ceiling, you could hardly see, and willed yourself to keep it together, you willed Marshall to hurry up and find you. You prayed nothing would happen between now and when Marshall did finally find you. But, you weren't stupid, you knew something was going to happen, you'd listened to Marshall talk about the case on Simon's activities, all the girls he violated and killed, the six police officers, and so much more. You wished in that moment, you hadn't always asked him about the case he was on, pressing for details. You couldn't help it, though, you'd been working on getting your Master's degree in Criminal Psychology, when you found out you were pregnant with Kate, and dropped out, to become a stay-at-home mom. Hearing about Marshall's cases brought that section of your mind back out, satisfying it. Not saying that Kate didn't satisfy you, you knew she was more important to you than pursuing a career in that field ever could be. But, that Criminal Psychologist section of your brain started to analyze Simon's behavior and mental reasoning, and it wasn't doing anything to calm you down. You tensed hearing his footsteps coming back to the stall, wrapping your arms tighter around Kate, readying yourself.

The door opened and Simon smiled at you. “I just got off the phone with your husband.” he told you, proudly, but you could see something lingering in the back of his eyes. “He's just arrested my brother, again.”

“Brother?” you asked, before you could help it, there goes that damn Psychologist brain again.

“You see,” Simon said, squatting in the doorway. “I have a identical twin brother, that's how I've been fooling people, like your moronic husband.” he explained to you.

That suddenly made a world of sense, Marshall believed the Simon they had in custody wasn't smart enough to pull off everything that happened, that he was getting help of some kind. Help from an identical twin would get the job done, allowing them to swap back and forth, with no one the wiser. You didn't want to admit it, but you had too, that was pretty genius.

“He's not intelligent like I am,” Simon was saying. “But, I fucking love him.”

You slowly licked your lips, hoping you could keep him talking, depending on how he contacted Marshall, Marshall might be able to trace the call to where they were. “I'm sure you do.” you said in a neutral tone. “Twin bonds are incredibly unique and strong. You must want him back, if Marshall has him.”

“Oh, I very much do what him back.” Simon agreed, eyeing you and Kate. “But, first, I wanna have some fun.” he told you, reaching out and grabbing Kate's leg.

“Mom!” she screamed as he started to pull her over to him.

“Whoa!” You yelled, standing up and slamming your foot down on his wrist, forcing him to let Kate go. “You want someone to play with, play with someone your own size.” you threatened him, your hands clenching into fists.

Simon stood up and looked you over, licking his lips as his eyes wandered over your body, resting on your breast first, before meeting your eyes. “Fair enough.” he grinned, gripping your wrist and pulling you out of the stall.

“Mom!” Kate yelled, tears flooding her eyes. “Mommy, no!”

“Kate, what did I tell you?” You called to her, your own tears blurring your vision. “Remember, what I told you, Katelin.” you repeated as Simon closed and locked the door to the stall.

You blinked at the tears, feeling them fall down your cold cheeks like liquid fire, as you stared angrily at Simon, closing your emotions off into an iron fortress to numb yourself for whatever happened next. He grinned at you, enjoying the tears and pure hatred in your eyes, reaching out to wipe away one of them, making you jerk your head away from his hand, which only rewarded you with a slap that almost sent you reeling into the wall. He grabbed you by the neck, feeling his fingers bruising your skin as he did, forcing you down the hallway and up the stairs.

Simon led you upstairs from the basement and up the two flights of stairs to the top floor. There were so many rooms, empty and collecting dust, you wondered what the house had been before Simon and his twin had gotten there. Shoving you into a room at the end of the hall, he pushed the door almost closed. You stumbled into the room, catching yourself on a dresser before you fell, and turned towards Simon, your expression from the basement hadn't changed a fraction. You weren't giving him anything to go off of, if he wanted a different reaction from you, he'd have to kill you for it.

“Do you like playing with that big oaf of a husband, of yours?” Simon asked, coming closer to you and running his hand up your stomach. “Does he preform well?”

“Fuck yourself.” You snapped at him.

Simon frowned angrily and punched you square in the stomach. You bent in half gasping for air as the pain ripped through you. He grabbed you by the back of your hair, yanking your head back painfully. “Feisty, I love it.” he grinned, using his hand in your hair to throw you onto the bed. “Bet Marshall does too.” he laughed, pushing you over on the bed and ripping open your shirt, revealing your black lace bra underneath.

You panted, stomach still hurting, as he groped your breasts. Gulping, you pushed your head back, so you didn't see him as he touched you. He pulled at the belt in the loops of your jeans, but became angry when he didn't manage opening it. He moved away and yanked open one of the drawers of the dresser, rummaging around before finding what it was he wanted in there. You looked down your body at him, biting into your lip hearing the click of pocket knife opening.

“Shit.” you panted, quietly.

He turned back to you, slipped that blade between your jeans and belt, and with an easy flick of the sharp blade, cut your belt off. He pulled the cut belt off of you, shoving the still open knife into his own belt and worked on opening your jeans. You gripped the blanket beneath you, trying to control yourself and the mounting chemical in your brain trying push your fight or flight response into action. You didn't want to fight him, or run, afraid that if you did, he'd take it out on Kate. He yanked off your wet UGG boots, then peeled off your jeans and laughed, seeing the matching black lace panties you wore. You felt impossibly dizzy feeling his fingers trace the edge of your panties and touching you through them. It was too much, and your fight or flight had won out, you sat up, kicking him in the chest and got up to run for the door. But, Simon caught himself and managed to grab you by the hair again, whipping you around and slamming you against the door. There was an intense tingle, like a severe electrical shock, that shot through your abdomen, close to your hip, followed by a immense heat. You looked down and saw he'd stabbed you with the knife, and looked back at him, shock setting in.

“You do that shit again, and I'll kill both of you.” he spat in your face, like venom. “Got it, bitch?” he barked, pressing the blade to your chest to get the point across.

All you could do was nod, shock had set in and you felt like you were on another plane altogether. He grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you back onto the bed, using the knife one last time to cut the lace panties off of you before tossing it to the floor. He popped the button of his baggy jeans and let them pull around his ankles, pushing his boxer briefs down his thighs enough to pull his hard prick out, and used on of his knees to push your limp legs open. You gasped more from the pain of him putting pressure on your stab wound them him shoving himself inside of you.

But, that pressure would end up saving you from bleeding out.

– –

Marshall went into the other Simon's cell, causing him to slide off the metal bench and huddle into corner of the cell, slowly becoming hysterical over Marshall's presence. Marshall pulled his service weapon out of his holster, removed the clip, showing Simon that it was full and slid it back in, before pulling back the slide to put a bullet in the chamber, and set it on the metal table. He crossed his arms over his chest, towering above him and looking at him with serious amount of disgust.

“Where are y/n and Kate, you stupid fuck?” he demanded.

“No, No!” Simon cried, huddling up even more.

“Where--” Marshall was cut off by his cell ringing. He ripped it out of his pocket, seeing there was no caller ID, but answered it anyway. “Who the fuck is this?” he barked.

“Hello, Marshall.” A familiar voice answered.

Marshall's eyes grew wide, staring at Simon in the corner, the dots to his theory that there was more than one person helping him, connected. “Who is this?”

“This is Simon.” the voice answered, laughing. “I hear you arrested my identical twin brother again.”

“Twins...” Marshall repeated, shocked.

“That's right, silly bean.” Simon laughed. “I have your dear daughter and beautiful wife, not the me in the cell with you.”

“How did--” Marshall shook his head, he knew he was in the cell with his brother because he was still crying. “I'll make you a trade.” he said, steeling himself. “Your brother for my wife and daughter.”

“Hmm.” Simon hummed. “Tempting, very tempting, Detective.” he said, sounding like he was thinking it over. “I think I'll play with your little family first. Then, I'll call you back.” he told Marshall, then hung up.

“FUCK!” Marshall screamed, startling the Simon in the cell with him. He threw his phone on the metal table and grabbed Simon by the shirt, pulling him up and slamming him against the wall, leaving his feet dangling. “Tell me where your brother is!” he yelled at him. “Tell me, now, or I'll take that fucking bear and destroy it!”

“No, my bear!” Simon sobbed, reaching for the bear on the table, next to Marshall's phone. “I want my bear!”

“Tell me!!” Marshall barked, shoving him against the wall again. “Now!!”

“Da-Daddy's house.” Simon cried, slobbering all over his shirt. “He's at Daddy's house.” he repeated, reaching for his bear. “My bear.” he mewled.

Marshall dropped him, swiping his phone off the table and stormed out of the cell, back up to the tech room where Rachel and Cooper were, trying to find anything of use. “Does David McGovern have any houses, besides the apartment on the school campus?” he asked, tearing into room like a tornado.

“I don't know, we can look.” Rachel said, sheepishly. “Look up any other properties owned or previously owned by David McGovern.” She told the tech woman.

After a few minutes of typing and narrowing the search down, the group found out that McGovern did, in fact, own a house thirty minutes away from the station. Not waiting, or even suiting up, Marshall charged down to his truck and tore out of the station like a man on a warpath. He was, indeed, on a warpath. The ordinarily thirty minute drive to the McGovern house, only took Marshall twenty minutes. He saw the van outside the large house, and got out of his truck, checking his service gun once more, he approached the house, carefully. It seemed all dark inside, but Marshall wasn't leaving until he was sure you and Kate weren't inside. Checking the front door and finding it locked, he started checking windows and any other door. He found that the back door leading into the kitchen was open, and carefully crept inside, checking every nook and corner, until he found the door to the basement, he remembered the other house, the one they'd found the impaired Simon, Lara and Julie. Opening the door, Marshall went down the stairs and looked around, finding the same set of identical stalls in this house that he'd found in the last one.

“Y/n?” He called, softly. “Kate?”

He heard a rustling from one of the stalls, and his heart gave out.

“Daddy?” Kate called, appearing at the narrow window in the door.

“Hey, baby girl.” He grinned, over relieved.

“Oh, god, Daddy.” She cried, seeing him.

Holstering his gun, Marshall looked around the basement for something to force the lock and found a crowbar under a bunch of junk, and used it to break open the door. Kate rushed into Marshall's arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his chest, sobbing freely. Marshall held onto her for dear life, resting his cheek on her head and rocking her side to side.

“Where's your mother?” he asked, looking into the stall she'd been in and seeing it empty. He didn't hear anything from the other stalls, and he knew if you were in one of them, you'd have said something by now, it made his stomach twist up again.

“He took her.” Kate sniffled, looking up at him. “He took her somewhere. He tried taking me, but Mommy convinced him to take her instead, and she made me promise that no matter what happened to her, that I'd stay strong until you found us. And you found us, Dad.” she cried, burying her face in his jacket again.

“Alright.” Marshall nodded, kissing the top of her head. “You did an amazing job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you, and glad you listened to your mum. She'll be proud of you as well.” he reassured her. “Look, we're going to go upstairs, alright. I want you to take my keys.” he pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket and pressed them into her hand. “I want you to go out the front door, back up should be here soon, and I want you to get in my truck, lock all the doors, in lay low in the back seat and not unlock it, or come out unless you see me, or Rachel.” he explained to her. “Understood?”

“Yeah, dad.” she nodded, wiping her face.

“Good, girl.” he smiled at her, softly, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her.

Marshall led them both upstairs, Kate behind him and holding on to the back of his shirt. They got upstairs and to the front door, Kate opened it and looked back at Marshall, who gave her a stern, go look, before pulling his gun back out and starting up the stairs. He was halfway down the hall of the second floor when he heard bumps coming from the third. Taking that cue, he made it to the stairs leading up to the top floor and went up. All the doors on the top floor were open, minus the last door at the end of the hall, which was closed. He eased himself down to the door, resting his free hand on the handle, and carefully turning it and cracking open the door. From the crack Marshall could see your head and shoulders on a bed, so he pushed it open a bit more, seeing the rest of you, seeing you half naked, and the blood staining the quilt on the bed beneath you. He didn't see Simon for a moment, before he came into view as he leaned on his arms at either side of your head. You were clearly on the last edge of losing consciousness from the blood loss by the look of your face and how lethargically you moved. Marshall's blood pressure spiked, he put his gun away and kicked open the door, deciding shooting Simon wasn't going to cut it. Simon backed away from you, startled by Marshall's sudden entrance.

“Looks like the Silly Bean found us.” he chuckled, eyeing Marshall.

Marshall panted with flowing adrenaline and rage, he took a big step forward, arms shooting out to grab Simon by the shirt and tossing him against the wall behind him, sending him crashing into the dresser and to the floor. Marshall advanced on him again, and repeatedly kicked Simon in the stomach and chest, stomping on his side and legs.

“I fucking told you!” Marshall raged. “I'd fucking kill you and it wouldn't be pretty.” he seethed, almost foaming at the mouth, and kicked Simon in the face.

Simon laughed as blood poured from his nose, which only enraged Marshall more. He picked him up off the ground like he weighted nothing at all, slammed him against the wall and wrapped his hands around his throat. Simon struggled, kicking his feet and gripping at Marshall's hands, desperately.

“Marsh-all.” You moaned, lulling your head to the side, seeing Marshall through you fuzzy vision, strangling Simon, who's face was turning from red to purple, quickly. “Marshall.” you said, louder and clearer, finally getting his attention. “Don't.” you whimpered, licking your dry lips.

“Why not!” He barked, every inch of his body shaking as the adrenaline started to wear off and he was fueled by pure emotion. “Look what he's done! The women and young girls he's hurt, the family's that have lost everything.” he rationalized. “Look what the fuck he's done to you, what he wanted to do to our daughter! He doesn't deserve to breathe!”

“You...” you gulped, almost passing out again, but shook your head to clear it. “You are...better than that.” you mewled, the agony from your wound starting to really kick in. “You kill him, you are lowering yourself to his level, Marshall.” you looked over at him, seeing the tears streaming down his face. “That is not the man, I love.” you told him, sincerely.

Marshall's hands squeezed even tighter around Simon's throat as he screamed with frustration, knowing you were right and not wanting to disappoint you, he just wanted you, period. Jerking Simon and punching him in the face with all the strength he had in those muscular arms, Marshall knocked Simon unconscious. He dropped Simon on the floor and crossed the room to you, dropping to his knees and carefully pressing a hand to your wound, making you scream in agony.

“It's alright, baby. I've got you now, y/n. I got you.” Marshall panted, slipping his arm under your back and an arm under your knees, scooping you up into his arms, stepped over Simon's unconscious body and carried you out of the room.

He'd come downstairs with you as the team entered the house. “He's on the top floor, last room on the left.” he told them, not stopping as he did. He carried you to the waiting ambulance, so they could take you to the hospital.

“Mom!” Kate screamed, letting go of Rachel to run to you, but Marshall caught her in his arms.

“She's alright, Kate.” Marshall told her, hugging her. “She'll be alright, I promise.” he said, kissing the top of her head and looking at Rachel, who got the hint and came over. “Rachel's going to take you home in my truck, alright. I'm going to go in the ambulance with your mum. I'll call, if anything happens.” he explained, letting her go and directing her in Rachel's direction.

“But, dad...” Kate started to protest, but Marshall gave her another stern look and she gave up. “Fine.” she huffed.

“Good, I love you.” Marshall told her, kissing her head one more time, before climbing into ambulance with you, taking your hand between both of his.

“Kat...” you whispered, turning your head to look at him.

“She's safe, y/n.” He smiled, reaching out to brush your hair out of your pale face. “She's with Rachel.”

“And...the twins?” you asked, frowning at him.

“You know they're twins?” Marshall frowned back.

“Yeah, he told me, before...you know.” you explained, the agony of your wound making you exhausted.

“They're being taken care of, the impaired Simon is locked up at the station and this one is being handled by the team.”

“Good.” You said, and went quiet for the rest of the ride to the hospital.

– –

Marshall helped you into the house, you'd just been discharged from the hospital after a week in the care unit for your stab wound, that thankfully hadn't damaged anything important. You stood in the hallway and saw the white spots on the mocha brown walls, where Marshall obviously patched the bullet holes, but hadn't gotten around to painting them. Marshall rested his hands on your shoulders, coming up behind you and kissed your neck, seeing your eyes on them. He wrapped a gentle arm around your waist, pulling you to lean against him.

“You alright?” he whispered into your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

“I'll be fine, Marshall.” you whispered back, resting your head back against his shoulder.

“Mom!” Kate's voice yelled as she charged down the stairs to you.

“Whoa, easy tiger.” Marshall warned her, seeing the excitement in your daughter's eyes. “She's still hurt, remember.”

“I know, dad.” she said, slowing herself down and gently hugged you. “I missed you.” she whispered into your neck.

“I missed you too, sweetie.” you whispered, hugging her back.

Marshall smiled and carefully enveloped the both of you in his arms, a profound feeling filling him as he held you both in his arms, knowing you were finally safe and sound.

260 notes · View notes

dememarquette · 4 years ago

Text

True Crime

They parked outside a cottage. Portend Point was a gorgeous neighborhood. Occupying it, 1305 Parkview was an equally picturesque property. It had everything one could want from a gentrified postcard: a manicured lawn, a white picket fence, friendly neighborhood dogs excited to see you but not too excited. A sign advertised this slice of warm American pie could be yours. FOR SALE it said, smacked across an unfortunate realtor's forehead. Kevin Locklear had a new golf cart staked on this commission. In his desperation, which reeked as bad as the scene, he ducked below the police tape to plant an optimistic 'Open House Resumes Wednesday!' picket. Adria would take personal pleasure in throwing it in the garbage.

"Jean and Sidney Morin," She briefed, as Ian punched in the door code. "They're from New Gisen, reported missing 72 hours ago. Gas station footage has the suspect grabbing Jean at the Circle K. Sidney was seen by traffic cams in hot pursuit, but we have nothing after the first intersection. Men are checking doorbell cameras along the street. So far, nothing." The stolen car in the driveway was similarly combed through. Every stray hair inside was documented. There wasn't much left that wasn't bagged, tagged and sent off to the lab, but Ian liked one last intimate walk-through before tossing the keys to clean-up. If he was absorbing one word of what Adria was saying, it didn't show. Her partner worked like a TNT detective. Adria pictured the world bottoming out around him. He'd suffer 50 consecutive epiphanies after looking at something stupid like a tipped ketchup bottle, and construct a convoluted MO from there, but that's not how she worked. If reading the block text helped, murder's hooked on phonics, by God she'd do it. "Neighbors didn't hear anything. We have no idea where the struggle took place, if there was one. Judging from the looks of this place-" "It wasn't here." He said, tuning in only for silent confirmation. She nodded, and he killed the lights. His UV swept over the walls. The inside had the aesthetically-pleasing insipidity of a gourmet cracker. It had been sanitized for a showing, but according to the carpet, the perp wasn't admiring the crown modeling. A modest drip-trail led straight from the front door to the basement, and there wasn't a petal out of place before it. After a quick scan of the rooms composing the ground floor, Ian got his fill of Ashley HomeStore's heritage collection. To the basement they went. Each wood plank creaked under their feet. The floor consisted of a flat slab of water-stained cement. The space was fashioned into a man-cave. Shelves were bolted to the walls. All the sofas were leather. Posters on the wall were swapped for something more palatable, flanking an entertainment system that was to be marveled. In a move that didn't appear to serve any purpose toward the room's breathability, all the furniture was shoved to the side to clear the center. A single bulb hung by chain overhead. Energy funneled through a copper wire made it hum. Evidence photos never did it justice. The victims were strung together by a lawn hose. A single cloth gag- maybe a sheet- knocked their heads together, pulled taut at the pocket of their jaws. Their height difference forced Jean's face heavenward. The whites of her eyes were visible from the top, but you had to be at the bottom to see the shadow she sat in was actually a pattern. Their blood leaked into a paste-like outline, seeping color into the circle etched into it. Where the natural tug of gravity didn't fill the trenches, the killer dropped to their knees and started fingerprinting, casting away any macabre elegance it formerly had. Their hands scraped to fill the pattern all until it got to the bottom of the arc. Ian read her mind. "They were interrupted." "By what?" She asked. His mouth pressed into a hard line. He didn't have an answer. Instead he completed his circuit before dropping closer to the gag. Adria knelt beside him, her boots toeing the edge where the brushwork tapered. Fingerprints- fragmented and smeared- were shipped off to IAFIS. Problem was, when the suspect hadn't indulged in some casual DUI, she needed something to match it to. She sized her hand up against theirs, while the deceased husband stared on. Adria avoided eye contact. Violent crime wasn't anything new. She's seen her fair share since moving to the city, but never a throat cut this deeply. Sidney had been nearly decapitated. Skin folded off his Adam's apple like a bow-tie. Stringy matter underneath was on full display. "What about the design? Does that mean anything to you?" "The team is working on tracking it. So far they're thinking it’s some type of online cult." "And that?" She tipped her head to the bowls skirting the outline. Ian grabbed one, sifting through it with a finger. Its contents stuck to the latex, white. "Cinnamon, and salt. The last one's pyrite. Offerings." "Then what were they?" "Bait." The moment he said it the lights died. Ian shot up. Adria pulsed to follow, but her balance teetered. Neither were near a switch. "Who else is here?" "No one." The bowl Ian was holding warbled a low note, spinning where he’d been. He shouted from the foot of the stairs. "Has to be the breaker. Don't move." "What?" "Don't move." "Wh- I'm not going to touch anything!" Adria lurched on steel-toes. Offense had her fumbling with her flashlight. Sure. Okay. Fine. So in the past she hasn't been the most careful. Maybe she's stomped through one or two crime scenes. But never when it mattered! So it's not like she'd- Something blew past her ear. With a graceless shriek, she made it a third. "God DAMN it!" Coagulated blood gunked to her jeans. She fell onto her back, swearing and curling to assess the damage. Ian would take one look at her and scowl. He'll do that smoldering, glower thing of his that she only liked when it was directed to other people. And then she'll have to go home, change her jeans, and hope he lets her back onto the property before they break out the body bags. He's going to see right away that- There's smoke? She dropped her knee. Sniffing, she swiveled. Air was escaping somewhere, hissing like a busted soda can. Whatever it was suffused the room. Her eyes burned just to move, but she couldn’t shut them. It could be more than the breaker- But that wouldn't explain why it was in the middle of the scene. With a yelp, she witnessed a spark fly between the corpses. Her heels planted into the floor. She kicked, hastily wedging distance between her and smog lifting off the concrete. She could've pretended she missed the class where she found out cinnamon was flammable. She could've maybe let it slide that denim wasn't an accelerant, but this was straight up sulfur. A ribbon of light unwound between them. A silhouette stretched out from behind it, towering. "Ian?" She asked, already knowing it wasn't. It had too many feelings to be. "What is this?" It croned. Miserably, it picked up a leg. "Ugh." Fingers acting faster than her brain, Adria whipped her gun from its holster "HANDS. Hands up, now!" "Sticky-" It groused. She heard a wet, staggered ppmf-ff. That suspiciously sounded like bodies toppling. In a maneuver she couldn't repeat, she blindly vaulted over the sofa, jamming herself between its backing and the wall. Her vision developed slow. First outlines, then shapes. Colors a little after when the smokescreen fanned out, blurring the glow around his face. She propped up her gun. Old leather gave away her position. The red light of eyes widened, vaguely cartoon-ish. "WHOA, hey now. Don't shoot." "Get on the ground." She ordered. "I said I wanna see your hands! Both of them, now!" "Aye-aye!" He complied. There was something sarcastic about the way his shadow wiggled to the floor. "Happy?" "Who are you?!" "Demetri Marquette, at your service." He tried to bow, until the violent rattle of her pistol suggested that was strictly prohibited. "What are you doing here?!" "Same as you, I imagine." "What?! What does that mean?" "You know. Working. The hustle." He shimmied. One by one, the candles surrounding them lit. The man in the center appeared nothing as he did in the shadows. His stature halved. The reddish glow vanished from his face, but most perplexing yet was that he somehow found a cover to throw over the bodies. With the blanket over them, they looked like fucking sock puppets. Adria sucked in a breath, sputtering nothing but inarticulated syllables for solid five seconds before, "Hey- stop fucking with my scene!!" "Oh- this?" He patted the victim's heads. The disrespect alone should’ve been grounds to fire. "I was meaning to talk to you about that. I'm sorry but two? Overkill. We’re not in the business of extra credit but I do appreciate the enthusiasm. So, uh. What's it going to be?" She swore nothing about this conversation was tracking. "Huh? "Money, fame, power, et cetera?" Nonsense! Complete nonsense. What was he implying? That this was an offer? A transaction for the bodies? It didn't matter. He overstayed his welcome before he popped in. And the fact he got in here at all may mean he knew something they didn't. This ridiculous, unexplainable suspension of belief kept her from feeling imperiled but this fuck was going to ruin the whole case if he didn't already. She pinched the button on the side of her walkie. "Ian, I need back-up downstairs now." The stranger sucked his teeth. "Ah. I wouldn't do that.” ’Oh my God, shut up. “Come on, talk to me.” He cooed. “What would make you more comfortable? Fresh air? The lights- is it the lights?" She glared, trigger finger satisfied with rapid-fire button clicking. Ian's hip would be going off like the fire alarm should be. "You know, I was going for ambiance, but." He snapped. Suddenly the power was back. She twisted from her fort. Corner to corner, stomping cleared across ceiling. The basement door creaked. Ian came swinging down the stairs, perfectly on cue. "The breaker fixed itself." He announced, sounding leery of it. "Imagine that," Said Blondie. Adria’s aim stayed fixed, prepared for sudden moves. There weren’t any, even from her partner. Ian’s velocity slowed to a stop. His grip on the handrail turned rigid before the bottom, tightening like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes roved over the ruined scene, the magnitude of it driving a huge crease into his brow. He did not notice the stranger directly beside him. Adria desperately looked between the both of them. "He can't see me," Demetri elaborated. "Adria?" Said Ian. The gravelly rumble of his voice asked fifty questions- none of which she had an answer to. She had a gun aimed at nothing. Two bodies were down, bizarrely set up for a picnic. "I-..." She stuttered. "Word of advice," Demetri picked a piece of lint of Ian’s shoulder. The detective reacted with only the slight drift of his eye-line, before his attention snapped back to Adria. "Don't say anything or you'll buy yourself a ticket to a psych eval." "Ian, you can't-?" "Nevermind. From this angle, you already look insane." Ian waited for her to continue but she lowered her gun. If he was right, there was no coming back from this. "...I thought I saw someone in the smoke." "Smoke?" There was no smoke. No fire, no light. Demetri's trapeze around the basement hadn't even left footprints. To Ian, she used the two minutes he was away to go nuts. Just lose her mind. Sanity to the wind. Who needs to critically think when you can barricade yourself behind a sofa, wildly waving a gun around? Defending yourself from scary shadow people that a paid electricity bill keeps at bay? Ian stared, impatience surging from a quiet simmer to a boil. She realized it’s been too long since she even tried answering a question. "Are you alright?" He rephrased. What she heard was ’Are you an idiot?’ Her face burned hot. "I think-" She slung her bag over his shoulder. "I think I need a minute. I'll be back." The tight set of his jaw meant he agreed. She ran past him, bolting for the cruiser. Now she was going to have to type up an incident report. Scrub her pants. Contemplate the onset of her paranoia induced insanity, and hope they wouldn't take her badge for this. She threw herself into the front seat of her cruiser. The door slammed behind her. Before she’d let frustrated tears get the better of her, she pulled up a Chrome browser. Occult. Satanism. She typed. Demon summoning. Symbol. All the results looked close. Matching the exact twisted pattern would be a nightmare. "Mind if we hit Starbucks?" Demetri necked her seat. She jolted, narrowly stopping herself from throwing her elbow through his eye socket. Knowing he was fictional made her wish she hadn't hesitated. "Why are you in my car?!" She swiped at her face. "For a frap. Hopefully. Is butterscotch still in season?" "No! Get out." His cheek squished against her headrest. "Aw, c'mon." She adjusted the rear-view, only for him pop up passenger side. "I get it." He said, proving he did Not actually. Devoid of any understanding of what 'Get out' meant, "More of a Dunkin' girl. That's fine I guess. Oh! Hope you don't mind. I dug through your glove department. I was trying to get to know you." He waggled a scrap of stationary. "Does the department know you're dating? Seems naughty. Is that against HIPA or something?" She flustered, red-faced. That note had been in Ian’s lunch. "OUT!" "I mean, I'm not judging. I like it. You'd think detective romances would get cliché but ugh." He pressed it to his heart. "There's something so enticing about seeing the ugliness of humankind hand-in-hand with the one you love. A real testament to love's resilience. Do you listen to Rihanna?" We Found Love belted from her speakers. Forget the psych eval, now she had to worry about the HOA. "What do you want, huh?!” Adria punched her stereo. “What do you want? Why are you here? Turn this OFF-" "I want to know what you want." He shrugged. "I want you to leave?! I’ve said a million times!" "No can do. Gonna need something more substantial. Unless, gasp." He made a show of patting down his slacks before producing a pen. The document it came with looked real and official. Spooky, until it came to 'Officer Hardass' at the top of a memo. It read "I forfeit my eternal soul to get Demetrius Marquette to GTFO" in gold. She looked down at the paper, head reeling. This was a fever dream. A nightmare. A joke, but she could feel the weight surrounding the document. Metaphysical. And as tempting as it would be to physically take his pen and jam it through his palm, five finger fillet- "NO." She shouted, chucking it back at him. "I'm not selling anything." Rihanna's chorus guttered and died. Its volume fell with his face. Hopeless indeed. "I don't get it." He huffed, impossibly exasperated. Like she was the one being objectively difficult here. "Why did you even summon me, then? What's the point?" "I didn't summon you, asshole! Some psychopath did!" "Huh." He pondered, deciding that did make more sense after-all. "...SO GO AWAY." "EeeeeEEEH. I don't think I will." He kicked back in the seat. A pair of sunglasses slid down his nose, gilded logo hitting the sun just right. How did a Dolce and Gabbana sales associate see him but not Ian? "You see. The problem is that I'm here now. I can't go home without something to show for it." "That's not my problem," Adria said, incredulously. "YOU are my problem! I don’t know who you think you are, but I don't owe you anything. You came onto my scene, jeopardized my career, made me look like an idiot, and now you're making my car smell like eggs!" Demetri recoiled. For a moment she thought she got through to him. Then it became abundantly clear it was just the egg part, actually. "Wow." He said. Hurt gave his voice a raspy edge. "Wow..." “So GO AWAY.” She tried for two. Three would be a taser. “You- you know what?” Demetri splayed his hands. “Fine. We’re done here. I’ll go-” “THANK YOU.” He scowled. “-I’ll go, but I will be back. And when I return, we're continuing this discussion in earnest. I hope, I sincerely hope Detective Kyro, that you think about it." She wouldn’t. But he vanished before she could say so. - - - By the time she got home, the scene was cleared. Since it had been cataloged ad nauseam, there was no need to report his partner’s lapse in sanity. Ian let it go. He covered her ass by risking his to shuffle in clean-up before anyone with a badge audited the damage. She got off easy. Despite earning every letter of a psych referral, confrontation fell away into 'unspoken' territory. He said nothing, but it was strongly encouraged by his cancellation of their Friday after-work happy hour that she take an extended weekend to 'rest.' That part he phoned in without her approval. Defeated, she threw off her jacket. She hooked her gun belt on a peg by the door. Her jeans were just going to burn- they were as good as cursed as far as she was concerned. There was nothing left to do but take a long, hot shower. Maybe she’d feel better if her skin ran hotter than the shame. The rest could be dealt with Monday. What choice did she have, really? She jammed a thumb through her braid. The plaits fell loose as she kicked off her boots, Adria went through the motions of attaining tentative comfort. And the moment she thought she could let it go (until she’d inevitably replay it at all again tonight) she smacked into the chest of someone in the bathroom. Her bathroom. This motherfucker made himself at home. “So,” His finger wound in the cord of her hairdryer. Freshly washed, and expertly coiffed, Demetri smelled exactly like her body wash. "Did you think about it?"

#a JUST FOR FUNSIES au #adria #true crime #story

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.1 (BAON)

Summary: Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone. But the day after being kidnapped? Not so much.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Notes: Time to deal with the aftermath of Just Swimmingly! Good luck, boys...

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone.

Even on the weekends, Edge wasn’t one to lounge around in bed when there were things he could be doing. It always amazed Stretch a little that Edge could sit at a desk for hours every day; that endless energy of his was similar to Papyrus’s, only more contained, banked like the coals of a campfire and ready to burst into flame whenever it was needed. It tended to escape him through his hands, whether he was typing or kneading bread dough, or touching Stretch with care that bordered on reverence. Sure, his injured leg might’ve slowed Edge down a little on the jogging front but it sure wasn’t stopping him anywhere else, his hands were still perfectly fine and he was putting both of them to good use whenever he could.

Which did not include lounging around in bed.

So, yeah, waking up alone was pretty much the norm. What he hadn’t expected was for it would be the norm today. Today, of all days, after everything that happened last night, the drugging, the kidnapping, the Judge—

But he didn’t want to think about that right now, thanks, Stretch’s mind was all full up and that shit could wait. What he was focused on right now was waking up alone in the bed he shared with his husband with the sheets on the other side already cool to the touch.

Stretch pulled his hand back from Edge’s side and rolled over on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the dimness and trying not to feel the aching hurt settling inside him. The last he remembered the two of them had been sleeping on the sofa, so that meant at some point Edge carried him upstairs and left him here. Not really a surprise that Edge didn’t stay, but it sure was a disappointment. He’d been expecting…well. Something else, for sure.

The bedroom had room darkening curtains, a thoughtful addition Edge put into place before Stretch even moved in, ensuring that he got plenty of sleep without the sun poking its way in before he was ready for it. Even they could only do so much, a narrow beam of brightness was coming around the sides and yeah, he was being stupid right about now. It was probably the middle of the afternoon, what, was Edge supposed to lay here all day, watching like a creeper while waiting for him to wake up? Sure, some overprotective cuddling and maybe a good handful of unreasonable demands for him to stay safe at home would have been nice, but it wasn’t exactly fair of him to expect it, now was it. If he wanted schmoopy cuddles, he’d just have to go out and harvest his own.

Stretch kicked off the blankets long enough to spread out, joints popping luxuriously as he groaned, and then yanked them back up before the chill of the air conditioning could make him shiver. He reached for his phone only to belatedly remember it was missing in action. There weren’t any other electronics in the room with a clock in them, Edge liked the bedroom to be dark as a grave, and damn, that was a thought to have today.

Anyway, there wasn’t really a good way to tell the time without his phone. At a guess, it was at least past noon, probably a lot later considering they went to bed after sunrise.

Welp, if his day was beginning, he needed his morning coffee to function even in the afternoon.

He decided to get dressed instead of going down in only his bathrobe, burying himself in the familiar comfort of one of his extra-worn hoodies. It smelled like the laundry detergent Edge preferred, strong and fresh, different than the one Blue used. Stretch paused as he was pulling it on, tucked inside the body of it like a cotton womb as he breathed in the clean fabric scent. He was sweating a little by the time he pulled it down over his skull, absently wiping his forehead on his sleeve as he dug out a pair of pants and some comfy socks.

Normally he’d grab a pair of his own, he had scads of ‘em, socks with pictures of chickens or pizza, lace ruffles at the cuffs or rainbow ones that pulled all the way up over his bony knees. Whatever caught his fancy ended up in his overflowing sock drawer, he loved them, even if pairing them all at laundry time was a bitch. This time, he took a pair from Edge’s side of the closet, plain white crew socks, the same as he wore with his motorcycle boots and Stretch paused briefly, remembering the clothes he’d been wearing last night. They’d been Edge’s, too, and now they were trash. Or more likely, they were evidence, there was a zero percent chance that Red’s team hadn’t found them, at least one tracker had to have been hidden on them somewhere and wasn’t that suspicious, that those assholes thought to strip them away and send them into the dumpster.

Even if Red were willing to give them back, something that was probably right below never on the scale of probability, Stretch didn’t think he’d want to see them again. Fuckers ruined them, ruined everything they’d touched, and they deserved what was coming their way, deserved retribution and—

Stretch firmly shook that thought away before it could hit more than a simmer and went back into the bedroom. He went to the window and pushed the curtains back, turning the narrow beam of sunlight into a flood. It illuminated the contents of the bedroom, the bed filled with rumpled blankets, the dresser with his zombie hand ring holder, Edge’s little collection of cologne bottles and the fancy box where he kept his cuff links, bathing it all in a haloed light.

On one wall was a full-length mirror, one that Stretch rarely used. He used it now, standing in front of it to look at himself. Too tall, skinny bones hidden under an oversized orange sweatshirt with swirls of black covering it like smoke, and a pair of plain white socks still clenched in one hand. There were rusty stains of exhaustion under his sockets, the light of his magic in his joints dimmer, darker. He needed to eat, that was all. Some food and coffee would go a long way to getting him back on the right path.

He sat on the bed to pull on the socks and when he was done, he wiggled his toes, watching them waggle beneath the shield of plain white cotton. Then he headed on downstairs. Wearing something of Edge’s was nice enough but he was kind of looking forward to getting up close and personal with the man himself.

From the fragrant smell filling the living room, he had a pretty good guess where Edge disappeared to.

When he went into the kitchen, he could see the oven was on, something rich and yeasty baking away. Typical, Edge liked to make bread when he was stressed, kneading the dough with a fierceness usually reserved for…actually, Edge did everything with a sort of fierceness, didn’t he, and it was always worth watching.

That show was already over. Edge was at the sink washing dishes, a few damp patches showing on the front of his apron. His cane was leaning against the counter, too far away to be useful, but at least he was wearing his leg brace, a small favor but Stretch would take it.

Edge looked over his shoulder the second the door opened, no pretending not to hear it so Stretch could ‘sneak’ up on him, not today. “You’re finally up.”

His voice was always on the rough side and that gravely timbre always sent a tingly thrill up Stretch’s spine. Today it was rougher than normal, brambles and thorns hiding velvet underneath.

“mostly.” And he wasn’t going to complain about Edge being gone when he woke up, he wasn’t, nope, not even a little— “couldn’t sleep in even a little, babe? i stay tucked in a few hours late and you had to get down here to get your betty crocker on.”

It sounded more accusatory than he’d meant. A strange expression crossed Edge’s face, almost wounded, and that went a long way towards soothing his own lingering hurt. Stretch was already regretting opening his stupid mouth when Edge said, “Love, you’ve been sleeping more than a few hours. You slept around the clock, it’s Wednesday.”

Wednesday. It’d been ass o’clock in the morning on Tuesday when he’d gone to bed, no wonder he was so fucking hungry.

“oh, shit, really?” Stretch blurted, his stupid mouth wasn’t done having its way, “haven’t done that since i don’t even know. guess i can’t blame you for not hanging around in bed.”

“You can, but I hope I can be quickly forgiven.” Edge stripped off his apron, tossing it carelessly on the counter and ignoring as it fell instead to the floor as he stepped around the kitchen island to gather Stretch into his arms. Yeah, okay, Stretch was a dick for ass-of-u-and-me-ing that Edge ditched him to hit up the cookbooks, but he was still going to take advantage of every hug Edge wanted to give him. He buried his face into Edge’s clavicle, breathing in the smell of his soap, the spiciness of his magic, hyperaware that he probably stank of old sweat and too much sleep. Edge didn’t seem to mind; his arms were strong around him, and Stretch couldn’t hold back a small, contented little sound as the embrace he’d been craving since he first woke up finally became a reality.

Edge made a sound of his own, low and soothing, then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“i’m not sure,” Stretch admitted. Too much had happened and most of it not yet properly assimilated. Mostly what he felt was still tired, the sticky brain-fog surrounding him that came with simultaneously too much and not enough sleep.

Edge nodded, his pointy chin digging lightly into the top of Stretch’s skull. "That’s fair.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “Love, my brother wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

That made his soul clench in his chest, his gnawing hunger fading. There was no putting it off, Stretch knew that, no room for negotiations when it came to giving out the details to Embassy Security. Wanted was a polite euphemism for needed and right now. He was lucky to have gotten off as long as he could, luckier still that Red would probably talk to him here rather than dragging him downtown, and still, there was a half-hearted urge to flee, to hide somewhere until they gave up and let him start working on forgetting that it ever happened.

Stretch shoved that urge down hard, until it was only a distant echo. If there was one thing therapy taught him, it was that eventually you’d have to face things if you wanted to get over it, and it was a hell of a lot better when it was on your own terms rather than having the ghouls tumble out of mental closets to haunt your dreams at night.

"yeah, okay,” Stretch said determinedly, “go ahead and call him."

Edge drew back enough to look at him, his deep crimson of his eye lights searching over Stretch’s face and that glance in the mirror earlier made Stretch pretty sure of what he was seeing. He wondered if Edge was contemplating a little fleeing of his own, maybe a gentler version of kidnapping where he hid Stretch away from the world until he was ready to let him loose again. Whatever it was he saw, it wasn’t enough for him to lean into spousal abduction. Edge only nodded a little, accepting, reaching up to cup Stretch’s face between his hands as he took a suspiciously tender kiss.

"Call him?" Edge said when he drew back, faintly amused. "I was simply warning you that he'll likely be here soon."

He'd barely finished the sentence before there was a staccato rap on the front door.

Okay, yeah, time to face the music, not literally and wasn’t that a shame because Red wasn’t a half-bad singer, a little armchair karaoke might make this more bearable. Stretch wriggled loose and was halfway to the door before Edge could limp his way out of the kitchen, yanking it open without looking through the peephole.

Red was standing on the other side of it, hulking on their front porch and only slightly livelier than a typical gargoyle. Him knocking at all was unusual, even wrong. Red tended to announce himself by bursting through the front door and even almost catching them a couple times in flagrante del-dick-to hadn’t slowed him down. There was certain unmistakable caution in the hunch of his shoulders this time, his hands tucked unthreateningly into his pockets as if Red was unsure of his welcome and all Stretch could feel was a weary sort of grief.

As if he didn’t know Red, long before all this, knew him way down deep to the bone. Nothing the Judge showed him in that brief glance was anything like a surprise.

The Judge. Yeah, he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t run away from it, either, not anymore than the assholes last night could.

It’d been years but apparently being a Judge was like riding a really fucked-up bike; you never really forgot no matter how much you tried. The heat of it in your soul, not like the volcanic burn of LV, no, this was an unfathomably icy fire that surged and flowed through to chill every limb, every bone, churning its way upward into your frostbitten skull to force its way out through your eye socket as it filled you…him. Filled him with unbearable knowledge that he’d never wanted and an overwhelming, endless power that he despised using.

For the briefest of seconds in that warehouse, he’d been ready to let it loose, to let the Judgment come boiling out like it had so many times before. Until Jeff stopped him. Reeled him back in with a single word.

Don’t.

(Jeff’s sins, such innocent little transgressions; stealing a piece of candy from a store as a child, lying to parents who would only use the truth against him. Filled with the soft green glow of a compassionate soul, filled with gentle kindness. No judgement.)

Then it was like trying to stuff all-mighty toothpaste back into an otherworldly tube and the flash-bang of seeing Red as he came up the stairs hadn’t helped.

(red didn’t kill that man, no, only persuaded him to do it himself, don’t gotta make it look like a suicide if it already is, saves time, evil fuck threatened red’s whole family, his entire life, and red talked to him quietly for hours, watched the tears and snot run down his face pitilessly as his own Judge recited a horrifying list of sins that did not start with that attack on the bus)

Stretch blinked that memory away and looked down into Red’s eye lights, a subtle shade deeper crimson than Edge’s, and remembered Red calling him brother.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red was the one who kept Edge from losing his everfucking mind and tearing the town apart looking for him, the same way Papyrus must've kept Blue in check. Stretch wasn’t entirely stupid, was, in fact, a genius and he had the damn paperwork to prove it. He’d sent his one shot at a message to Red, trusting him to not only be the one to save them, but to get the dark side of the joke from the song he’d chosen to play.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red had laughed.

Hell, in some ways he knew Red better than he knew himself, but since he did know himself pretty damn well, Stretch made a point of acting like it. He left the door open and went to plop down in the sofa, propped his bony feet in Edge’s socks up in the coffee table, and said, “couldn’t let us sleep for another hour, asshole?”

The fractional easing of tension in Red’s shoulders was blink-and-you’d-miss-it quick, so it was a good thing skeletons didn’t really need to blink. He sauntered into the house with his usual big dick energy and kicked the door shut, ignoring Edge’s outraged hiss as he said laconically, “we need to talk some, honey bun.”

Stretch only nodded. “figured. have a seat and i’ll give you the whole novel, from the start to the footnotes.” Edge was still standing close to the kitchen door, leaning on his cane heavier than normal and clearly torn between staying and giving them privacy if Stretch asked for it. Heh, as if. “hey, babe, knock knock.”

Edge let out a perfunctory sigh as he said, flatly obedient, “Who’s there?”

“water

“Water who?”

Stretch grinned and slid an arm along the sofa back in invitation. “water you waiting for, come over here and hold me.”

The struggle to hide exasperated humor was eclipsed by a fierce solemness and Edge was next to him on the sofa in an instant, settling Stretch into a gentle embrace. The hugs he’d been missing this morning were coming back tenfold and if Stretch closed his sockets, he could feel the trembling desperation in Edge’s touch, his grip so tight the bones under it ached, and how the hell had he kept from flinging himself at Stretch the second he came into the kitchen?

He’d been waiting for Stretch to come to him, Stretch realized, not wanting to overwhelm him or slather him in the sort of manic overprotectiveness he usually balked at. The swell of his love for his husband nearly choked him, filling his soul to bursting, and he snuggled in, basking in his warmth, his scent, the purity of his adoration.

The silence dragged on without even a disgusted groan or a cleared throat, and when Stretch slit open his sockets to have a look, he found Red watching them, an unreadable expression on his unusually somber face.

Stretch patted the sofa cushion on his other side, “hey, you, come here?”

Red actually took a step back, his sockets going wide, as if Stretch had offered him a nice, firm slap on the ass instead of a seat, except he might have accepted that, if only to be an asshole. For a second, Stretch wondered if he’d shortcut out, fleeing from the subtle threat of affection and maybe sending Sans back to take Stretch’s statement instead.

Better not to wait for him to try and Stretch reached deep down inside for a little coaxing, the same way he’d forced himself to reach out months ago to a tiny kitten hiding in the bushes at the bus stop despite the unreasonably terrified thundering pulse of his soul. “c’mon, you can record over here, i know you’re gonna.” There was another beat of fraught silence before Stretch added, quietly, “please?”

That blank face twisted, emotions running beneath it too quickly to parse as Red scrubbed a hand over his skull and muttered aloud, “ah, fuck, honey bun.”

His boots managed to thump loudly as he stomped over despite the carpeted floor and the rough, exasperated sound from Red as he flung himself on the sofa sounded a hell of a lot like winning. Stretch hauled him in against his other side, ignoring his snarls and flailing, tucking him in comfortably despite him stiffening like a corpse. Minutes ticked by as Red reluctantly relaxed, all the surprising weight of his small frame leaning into Stretch.

Edge said nothing, only shifted his hand minutely until his knuckles were pressed tight to Red’s upper arm.

Yeah, this was what Stretch wanted, no, needed. Caged in on both sides by the people he trusted to keep him safe, trusted with his very soul, and Stretch took a long slow breath, letting it out slowly as he braced himself to dive into his unpleasant, perfect memory of the night. “okay. i’m ready.”

Next to him, Red shifted and Stretch waited for the click of the recorder before he began, the words rising in him like the tide as he sank under the surface into memory.

“so, andy and i were supposed to be checking out bands for that big embassy party ass-gore is throwing—"

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #by any other name

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redschillzone · 4 years ago

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Falling For Ya (Iden Versio x Reader)

(Gif found here!)

Pairing: Iden Versio x Reader

Prompt: 30. “Stop laughing at me!” | Prompts

Word Count: 2.3k Words

Warnings: Couple of curse words

Summary: Reader has a rather rough and interesting crash landing and Iden won’t forget it any time soon. Iden Tag List: @allfiguredout

A/N: Four writings in a day, all with varying lengths. I’m rather impressed with myself! Enjoy some Iden content!

You couldn’t remember for the life of you how you ended up here and as you tried to wrack through your brain for some type of reasoning all you were given in return was a splitting headache. You couldn’t help the small groan that escaped you as you lifted your hand up to rub at your head, attempting to rub at your eyes as well before you began to blink carefully, letting your eyes suddenly adjust to the sudden bright light that was the sun hitting your face. Once you were certain you weren’t seeing double anymore you blinked once more; Was that the ground you were looking at? But, weren’t you supposed to be standing there? It was there that it hit you and you looked up as best you could, craning your neck to see your legs had been caught within a large group of vines and you let a low groan escape your lips as it all came rushing back to you; You were shot out of the sky by a TIE fighter during one of your dogfights and you just so happened to eject from your X-wing right before it crashed into the dense jungle you were in. You couldn’t help but let out a breath as you attempted to lift yourself up via your core to try and reach at your ankles, doing your best as you strain your arm out and your fingers just barely grazed the vine before you let yourself fall once more, groaning as your arms fell limp over your head. You were stuck and you could most certainly feel the blood rushing to your head. Or was it dripping down your head? Probably both, you assumed.

You could feel your body beginning to ache in all the wrong places; That crash was something else and you of course couldn’t have picked yourself a better place to hand landed, now could you?

“Fuck me…” You mumbled as you attempted to free your legs once more, lifting yourself up by your core and once more you strain your arms to try and reach the vines, doing what you could to try and grab at them. You even waved your hand around and shouted at the sky.

“Oh why couldn’t I be born force sensitive?!” You shouted at no-one in particular before you allowed your back to straighten out and for you to go limp once more. You were breathing heavily at this point and you were growing tired and were certain you were going to pass out within the next few minutes, but you were determined to get yourself free; Now as to how you were going to do that you still didn’t know but you were going to keep up your attempts. So, that’s exactly what you did for several minutes, going and pulling yourself up and attempting to untie the vines from around your ankles. You were cursing to yourself with each failed attempt before you overall gave up and allowed your eyes to shut as you began to gently sway back and forth from the the force you were using to lift yourself; If you survived this, you were going to yell at Leia about assigning you to this mission on Yavin 4. You hated this planet with a passion; It was hot, it was humid, everything was sticky and you were always sweating like crazy even when you were in the base and in the air condition but it didn’t matter. You probably would have taken Hoth over this place. You couldn’t help but sigh before you opened your eyes to a stick snapping nearby and you swiveled your head as best you could, your eyes narrowing as you looked around. You were in no position to fight and in any case, this would be your resting place, as stupid as that sounded to you and you couldn’t help but shake your head at the thought.

Of course you’d die on a planet you hated; Oh the irony in that situation. You gritted your teeth as you noticed a dark form making their way closer to you through the various brush nearby and you couldn’t help yourself as you squinted your eyes to try and make out their form. Once you had put together just who it was, you couldn’t help but felt your whole body relax as you gave a low chuckle, closing your eyes once more before you began to speak up.

“Commander.. How nice to see you…” You had told her to which Iden couldn’t help but laugh at your current situation; Hanging from your feet a few feet off the ground by a bunch of vines while you looked like an absolute mess. She was grateful to see you were still alive of course; That crash looked like it had killed you after all. She had insisted on going to check to make sure you were alive and as hesitant as Del was on the idea, he eventually gave her the okay to go and check out your crash. Without another word she jumped into her X-wing and away she went to your crash sight, following the billowing smoke at the other side of the forest.

Seeing your x-wing had just about destroyed her as she landed nearby and removed herself from her x-wing, commanding her droid to conduct a sweep of the area to see if you were nearby or if this crash had officially taken you out. She made her way over to your x-wing once the droid had flown off to conduct it’s search; She was careful to not get too close, as the flames that were roaring from the engines were out of control and it wouldn’t be long before they died out and left nothing but a burnt wreck behind. Once she had confirmed you weren’t in the cockpit she awaited her droid which returned to her within the next couple of minutes. It had reported that it had found a life form and that’s when she followed it to where she was now. She was grateful that Del had allowed her to return because if not, you would have been dead for sure within the day. She couldn’t help but smile through her laughter as she moved to stand in front of you, watching you as she carefully removed your broken helmet from your head. Your hair fell the moment the helmet was removed and she could see the few injuries you had and gave a small hum as she spoke up, gently lifting her hand to wipe away some of the dried blood on your cheek.

“Well this is new, rookie.” She teased you, using the nickname she knew you hated to be called. You had joined the Republic maybe two or three months ago, maybe longer and you were still learning your way around things; You did know how to fly though. That was the one thing your parents made sure you knew how to do; Pilot any ship you made your way into. So, it just so happened to be in your cards that Leia had placed you with Inferno Squadron. She had said they could have used a fourth pilot and with your skills, you would fit the bill nicely. Well, if only she could see you know. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you shut your eyes once more, enjoying the feeling of her hand against your face.

“Oh shut up, and stop laughing at me! It’s not my fault I was shot down and got stuck in these damn vines.” You hissed to her as she all but shook her head and took a few steps back, removing her hand from your cheek as she stopped a few inches away. With a smirk on her face, she aimed her blaster at the vines that held you captive.

“You may want to brace yourself.” Iden had warned you but you couldn’t even open your eyes quick enough before you heard the shot and felt yourself collide with the ground, the dirt kicking up around you as you hit it with a rather hard ‘thud’. You couldn't help the groan that left your body as the dirt cloud began to clear itself, Iden waving her hand around as she coughed lightly as she inhaled a small amount of dirt. She continued to wave away the dirt before she kneeled down beside you once more, placing her gun on the ground nearby.

“I told you to brace yourself, (Y/N).” She had told you to which you shook your head and carefully sat up, the world all but spinning around you as you began to feel the blood return to the other parts of your body.

“Yeah well, warn me about a minute before you shoot the vines.” You hissed to her as you leaned forward, placing your head in your hands as she moved her hand to rest on your back, gently moving it up and down your back to rub at it.

“Noted for next time.” She told you, waiting until she was certain you were okay before she took your hand and helped you stand up, keeping her one hand on your back and the other keeping a tight grip on your hand.

“You’re alright, I got you.” She reassured you as you all but began to sway once more. Your vision was beginning to make you see double once more and you were all but certain that wasn’t a good sign.

“Fuck.. Iden I don’t feel too good..” You spoke, your voice going quiet before you all but went limp in her arms. The last thing you heard was her calling out your name and that you needed to stay with her.

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

You gave a small groan as you slowly opened your eyes and you quickly regretted it as you shut your eyes once more. What you did see was a lot of white, but also a few areas of black and as you slowly opened your eyes once more, you allowed your eyes the time to adjust before you carefully glanced around to see where you were at. The moment your ears began to hear the beeping of nearby machines you knew exactly where you were; You were in the medbay on the Corvus and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh as you began to relax back into the bed as you shut your eyes for a few more minutes. You could feel the pain medication kicking in and you couldn’t help yourself as you all but relaxed into the bed once more; Iden must have gotten you back to the ship; As to how you were rather curious on and would most certainly need to ask her about it later on.

“Hey.. Glad to see you’re alive, rookie.” A feminine voice called out and you opened your eyes once more and glanced towards the foot of the bed and gave a small smile as your eyes landed on the dark haired woman that stood there, a small smile on her face as she rested her hands on the edge of the bed frame.

“Hey.. I uh.. Thanks for getting me back here.” You thanked her to which she gave a small shrug as she tapped the frame.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. You would have done the same for me. How are you feeling though? Do you need anything?” She asked, her head tilting lightly to the side and you couldn’t help but give her a small smile as you watched her; She was so damn pretty and her personality just turned you to putty every time she talked to you or barked an order at you. And you honestly found it hot how quickly she could switch from the commander of the Inferno Squad to Iden Versio, a relaxed kick-back girl with a kickass attitude. You loved her, you were falling hard for her and if that crash did anything to you it was help knock some sense into you.

“I uh.. No but I do need to say something..” You spoke to which Iden raised an eyebrow, going and moving to stand beside the bed as she watched you.

“And what’s that?” She questioned you motioned for her to take a seat in the chair which she gladly did so, her eyes still trained on you as they began to fill with worry. What were you about to tell her? Did the doctors inform you of something that they didn’t inform her on? She could feel her heart beginning to beat a thousand beats per second and she couldn’t help but laugh once more as you spoke your words.

“I think I’m falling for ya…” You grinned to her as she laughed away at your remark. You honestly were adorable; She would admit that and she could tell that your confession was genuine with the love struck, puppy dog look you had on your face. Once she began to relax she couldn’t help the few small chuckles that escaped her as she went ahead and leaned over the bed, gently pressing her lips to your cheek as you all but began to heat up at the simple action. You turned your head in her direction and stared at her with wide eyes; Iden Versio had just kissed your cheek and you were over the moon.

“Well, you can fall for me all you want, because I’m going to be there to pick you up when you fall.” She smiled and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Iden had basically just admitted to loving you and you were fucking thrilled. At this point, maybe you needed to crash yourself into some trees and get wrapped up in some vines more often.

#Star Wars #Battlefront 2 #Star Wars: Battlefront 2 #Battlefront ii #Iden Versio #Iden Versio x Reader #Iden Versio x Female!Reader #Iden Versio Battlefront 2 #Iden Versio Battlefront ii #Fluffy friday?#Soft Saturday?

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ragnaofazure · 4 years ago

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Characters that were, or never were.

((Hello! This is a list of characters I have actually played on or off the site (like Discord), wanted to or considered quite strongly but never followed suit to do so or whatever.))

((It will all be under read more; this is a long post! If you are interested? Have fun discovering who was in any corner of my repertoire! The list should not be that extensive! I will reblog it if I added anyone new I could recall and forgot to initially should that happen. These are mostly in some form of chronological order with added notes about what their place is with me and more.))

Yu Narukami - (Persona 4)

Additional note: (Have to biasedly put him first at the top and say how he was my true first muse here, lasted literal years. All my experience comes from him and his blog. He reached nearly 1k followers between both regular and not safe blogs, my true labor of love lost to me deciding to deactivate the blog. Some know me from him originally! You all know who you are!))

Sal (or “Syake”/”Syake-san”) - (Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea)

Additional note: (My first attempt at a second character and his blog did kinda work for a while, getting a lot of interactions during the original Funamusea craze back in the day. First time playing a truly well evil character and learned lots. His blog eventually died down and faded, but it was an experience I haven’t forgotten.)

Nepgear - (Hyperdimension Neptunia)

Additional note: (A standalone blog attempt again, flopped hard due to how the fandom seemed to have it’s problems on the RP side as well as my own personal reservations (met some couple of awesome people there still around me today though!). One of the most ways to trash a character by a series that had a bit of an identity crisis in the writing department as the years went on. Still not over how hard they literally screwed this good girl over. Every single time.)

Iku Nagae - (Touhou Project)

Additional note: (Part of an incredibly failed multimuse project (that Nepgear was the face of and part of as well for that matter after her blog flopped) and she never got to really experience light of day. I had only the idea of how I wished to portray the character and I still do, but at the same time, I have no idea if it would have earned me the most interactions, admittedly. All due to how passive she is.)

Varus - (League of Legends)

Additional note: (Me having a thing for characters with tragic stories of loss? Are doomed as if fittingly to pay for their sins and as a cost for the tools to live and revenge? He spoke to me way before Ragna. I knew how I wanted to write him, give him flair given his character, which other Champions I wished for him to interact with soon... I had a much clearer idea. But ultimately, also part of the doomed multimuse blog that never took off.)

Goomy - (Pokémon)

Additional note: (No gijinka, only small, sticky bby that I debatably would never allow to evolve and, of course, could talk. Best Dragon type line to ever exist don’t even @ me okay. It’s just... cute. The anime really made it stick out and I loved it. I always also have loved essentially weaker characters and creatures a lot, thus... It resonated with me greatly and idea of how I was going to go about him (yes, had decided on male for it). Again, multimuse failed, so he went away with it.)

Karol Capel - (Tales of Vesperia)

Additional note: (Weak that could be truly strong when overcoming his fears, and that resonated with me given how I consider myself a coward in real life. I also have a thing also for playing characters everyone finds annoying to make them look better when they should not be as disliked too. And once more, multimuse, gone with it, never found a place to remotely discover if I would have also wanted to play him at large either too.)

Elphelt Valentine - (Guilty Gear)

Additional note: (I don’t need to say anything, most of you knew her enough! Blog flopped hard and I couldn’t find the activity I desired. Why I played her? Just... bubbly sweet girl that didn’t want to act on her capability to be deadly as a Gear and only wished for happiness, I liked all that sugar with that depth I tried to give her. As of recent times, Tumblr locked me out and I could not log back in. I sort of took it as a message as to why I maybe shouldn’t try with secondary blogs to a big degree.)

The Masochistic Admiral/Commander/Master(?)/Doctor(?) - (Kantai Collection-Azur Lane (Maybe even Fate and Arknights???) )

Additional note: (So this is a nameless original Admiral/Commander character by the artist known as “Yamamoto Arifred” (look up on danbooru tags under Kantai Collection alongside). I absolutely fell in love with this guy. How I wish it was possible to play him further then I did, I revisit the art work every so often and every day I recall why I liked him so, so much. He’s just beyond amusing, wacky, outright insane and nonsensical in many good shapes and forms. But he only wants one thing: All under him to succeed and become the best they can be under his very questionable yet effective command. I could go on and on but this is already long enough. Standalone blog, flopped due to lack of activity.)

Thief (”Touzoku”) Arthur - (Million Arthur series)

Additional note: (Super unknown series, super unknown plot, I only met all the characters via the available and uncared for fighting game... And her backstory plus design gave me so many ideas I wanted to play around with as a thief wielding a goddamn Excalibur. Of the first characters I said I wanted to play on impulse alone, but who would have cared? Where could she have fit? It was the bigger discouraging thoughts. I have some icons still... But as always, the hesitation from impulse in itself.)

Hassan of the Serenity - (Fate Prototype/Fragments - Grand Order)

Additional note: (Best Assassin, best girl, only Servant that has brought me to tears in this extensive series, for the love of anything holy let her be happy I swear to God, everything about her cuts me so deep, I can’t deal with it every time I think about it ...I’m calm. But really. She touched me so, so deep. I was normally indifferent for so many years about Fate until I stumbled upon the Prototype duology, and subsequently, the Fragments side. After learning her origins and more, her wishes... I can’t state it enough. I am passionate about this girl. She deserves the world. And I would have loved to give her the best if I got to write her.)

Peri - (Fire Emblem Fates - Heroes)

Additional note: (What everyone sees as an annoying, questionable character and way more, I see as yet another pick for me with great potential to try and develop to be liked more by many, for she is not completely disposeable. I had ideas and wanted to take her further while still having her not lose the tendencies she has, because that would be breaking and disregarding character, but sadly, Peri never as much as left my constant thoughts then trying to privately sample around for myself, would have loved to, though. Very.)

Sigurd - (Fate Grand Order)

Additional note: (Amazing design, amazing voice... Literal definition of: “Do it for her”, loves his partner despite their fate... Incredibly underrated man. He is simply the best and I was interested in finding footing to play him, as he deserves to be noticed more for just being... Simply amazing. There is not much more to say than that, he is cool and that is final. Don’t even fight me on these cold, hard facts.)

#ooc #Long post

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omnivorousshipper · 5 years ago

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Shobbs: Adventures in Rescuing

This was requested by anon here

Summary: In the middle of the night, Deckard receives a phone call. Apparently, Hobbs had gotten himself into a sticky situation and it's up to Deckard to save him. He just hopes he's not too late

Deckard leaned back into his plush armchair, carefully balancing his tablet on the arm of the chair as he tucked his legs under him. Once settled, he spread a blanket over himself, picked up his tablet, and readjusted the reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. On the end table next to him sat a steaming cup of tea, heavily doused with honey.

This was one of the first nights Deckard had had to himself. No MI6 agents knocking on his door, no little siblings bugging him for attention, and no bad guys trying to kill him. Deckard didn’t mind his chaotic lifestyle, but sometimes it was nice to have a little break and catch up on some reading.

Reaching for his cup of tea, his hand stilled when he heard his phone go off.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Deckard sighed and let his head fall back for a moment before lifting it once again to look down at his phone, which laid next to the cup. For a second, Deckard considered ignoring the call, but knowing who he was related to, he decided that would be a bad idea.

His hand moved towards the phone slowly, almost as if he was about to pick up a venomous snake. Finally, his fingers wrapped around the cool metal and strong vibrations as the phone kept ringing. Looking at the screen, Deckard raised an eyebrow.

Unknown number.

Nobody, other than the people already stored in his phone, should have his number. Whoever it was calling him had a lot of explaining to do. Rolling his eyes, he finally picked up after a few rings, and gruffly answered.

“Shaw.”

“Oh thank god, I never thought you’d answer. Let me tell you, hearing your voice, it’s like hearing an angel’s. No. Like hearing God’s voice himself. Well, if you believe in stuff like that. Myself, not so much. I like believing in stuff I can touch, you know? Like chimichangas-”

Deckard hung up.

And his phone immediately started ringing again.

Even though he knew it was going to be a bad idea, Deckard sighed and picked up again. But before the other person could talk, Deckard growled out a warning.

“If you don’t get to the point right this second, I will find you and force feed you your own bollocks.”

There was a beat of silence before the other person started speaking, much slower and subdued this time.

“Okay, yeah. Totally understand.”

“Now, who the bloody hell are and what do you want?”

“Agent Locke, CIA,” the other man answered happily. “And let me just say, it’s an honor to finally be able to talk to you Deckard. Can I call you Deckard? Great! So, I have a favor to ask of you!”

Taking the phone away from his ear, Deckard rubbed the bridge of his nose, nearly dislodging his glasses. He knew he should hang up. It would be the easiest and simplest way to avoid a headache. But if the man was actually CIA and was able to contact him, something must be up.

Bringing the phone back up to his ear, Deckard was able to hear the tail end of Locke’s tangent.

“-but they said no, even though I told them it was a good idea. Why does nobody listen to me? I get results! I get things done! So what if there’s a little blood spilled along the way? It’s part of the job!”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Deckard sighed, feeling his patience close to snapping.

“Your good ol’ buddy, Luke Hobbs of course! Although, he prefers to be called Rebbeca. I came up with that name, you know? He loves it ‘cause we’re best friends and-”

“What about Hobbs, you absolute tit?” Deckard hissed.

“See, that’s where you come in. I sent him after a few baddies in Belgium and all we’ve gotten from him in the last twenty-four hours is radio silence,” Locke blurted out, not seeming to take a breath at all as he relayed the information to Deckard. “And I don’t have any guys in Belgium to help him out, you know, with waffles and chocolate being the only things in Belgium. So, I was hoping you’d go in and help him out?”

Deckard had to resist the urge to rub the bridge of his nose again. And then gave up and rubbed his temple instead.

“You mean to tell me, the CIA doesn’t have anyone who can help an agent who could possibly be taken hostage?”

“Yeah,” Locke sheepishly responded. “That’s basically it.”

“All of you Americans are idiots,” Deckard grumbled.

“And talking about idiot Americans, Hobbs still needs help. Probably. If he’s not already dead,” Locke tagged on at the end.

“Jesus Christ, man!” Deckard nearly yelped. The way Locke just casually mentioned Hobbs’ possibly being dead had Deckard straightening his back and knocking his book to the ground. The idea of Hobbs being surrounded by enemies and taking his last breath made something inside Deckard twist painfully. Nobody deserved a death like that, especially a man like Hobbs.

“So, what do you say?”

“Send me the files on the guys he was tracking. I’ll see what I can do,” Deckard finally said, a note of resignation in his voice.

The next few hours went by in a blur after that. Deckard had rushed to get dressed, collect his gear and weapons, and all the documents he would need to get into Belgium in the middle of the night. Taking one of his least flashy cars, he sped down the Channel Tunnel while he listened to his phone read out the files on the guys Hobbs was tasked to take down.

Hobbs had gone after a guy named Mark Hulmes, the nephew of Lewis Hulmes, one of the most notorious mob bosses in all of Brussels. Apparently the younger Hulmes had been branching out and had tried buying some high end weapons from the black market, sending red flags to the CIA. And it seemed like they had a valid reason to be concerned if Hulmes got his hands on those weapons. The man had been involved in a multitude of violent crimes, including attempted murder, but because his uncle had strong connections with the judge, the younger Hulmes got off with only a few months of probation.

Deckard had never really been in contact with the criminal underworld of Brussels, but he knew Hulmes’ types. He was a ticking time bomb.

One that might have a mouthy DSS agent in his grasp.

Deckard knew Hobbs could handle himself, but from the way Locke put it, it seemed like Hobbs went in alone. And while the man was an absolute powerhouse by himself, Deckard knew that it could take only one lucky shot to take someone down. He just hoped that that didn’t happen to Hobbs and the man was just laying low.

“You better be alive, Hobbs, or else I’m going to kick your sorry arse,” Deckard mumbled to himself, gripping the steering wheel hard, his knuckles going white..

The next few hours went by slowly, with Deckard stiffly sitting and pushing his luck with the speed limit and local police. He couldn’t help the images that would pop into his head every few minutes. From Hobbs beaten and bruised, to him screaming in pain, to his lifeless bo-

“He’s fine,” Deckard firmly told himself. “If he could survive Brixton, he can survive some back alley punk from Brussels.”

The statement only marginally helped him feel better, but didn’t stop the darker thoughts from creeping back in.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when Deckard finally reached the row of abandoned warehouses that the Hulmes family owned and no doubt did most of their dirty business. The buildings were on their last legs, looking as if a strong wind would knock them down. There were weeds growing up the sides of them, while every window was shattered and allowed the elements to enter the buildings.

After a few loops around the place, Deckard was able to spot a few cars parked around one in particular, while all the others stood empty. Parking behind the one that appeared to be inhabited, Deckard started to grab as many guns, ammo, and other weapons that he could. And it being him, he was able to carry quite a bit.

He had no idea how many men would be inside, only a rough estimate from the eight or so cars he saw parked in front. It took him several minutes to gear up, but finally he shut the trunk of his car, armed to the teeth. Holding his custom handgun, the SVI Infinity, he sneaked around the warehouse, looking for a different entrance other than the front door.

“That’ll work,” Deckard smirked, spotting a firescape on the side of the building and allowing him access to the second floor. It was severely rusted and missing several rungs, and creaked horribly when Deckard started to climb up it. Taking his time, he listened carefully to the noises coming from inside.

He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but from the shouts and loud, boisterous laughter, it made the hair on the back of Deckard’s neck stand on end. People like Hulmes didn’t laugh when things were funny, but when something was in pain. That thought made Deckard quicken his pace, not caring if the deteriorating metal underneath him made noise; he needed to get to Hobbs.

The door at the top was just as rusted as the rest of the firescape and almost fell apart in Deckard’s hands as he shoved it open. It creaked loudly, making Deckard freeze in fear of being discovered. He couldn’t risk Hobbs’ life before he had even verified if the man was even in this building. Luckily, the shouts from down below didn’t stop, and Deckard could feel his heart slow.

Carefully entering the building, Deckard crouched near the railing of the platform that made up the second level of the building. And immediately, Deckard could feel rage boil up from his gut and spreading through his veins. Because down below, he could see Hobbs.

The large man was chained to a chair, surrounded by a group of various men, all who were circling the DSS agent and shouting taunts at him. Deckard felt himself jerk forward as he watched one of the men down below move quickly, his hand shooting out to punch Hobbs across the face.

“Look, boys! He’s not so tough anymore!” The man shouted, shrill laughter leaving him and bouncing off the concrete walls of the warehouse. “And to think anyone was ever scared of this worthless piece of shit!”

Hobbs didn’t react from the hit or insults. Instead, his head rolled so his chin was sitting on his chest, his whole body saging into the chair.

Deckard felt his finger twitch on the trigger of his gun as a spike of panic went through him. Hobbs was obviously unconscious and would no doubt need medical assistance soon. Clenching his jaw, Deckard raised his gun with both hands, leveling it at the group of men.

“Try it again, you arseholes,” he growled.

And like he predicted, another man broke away from the circle and was leveling a kick towards Hobbs’ head. With ease, Deckard tracked the man’s movements and before his foot was even halfway in the air, Deckard was pulling the trigger.

Chaos exploded underneath Deckard as the rest of the men started shouting and screaming from their friend’s brains spilled all over the floor and the resounding crack of Deckard’s gun echoed off the walls. Deckard sent out several more shots as the group below him ran around like headless chickens, all of them scrambling to grab their own guns.

“Up there!” One of the men shouted, pointing up at Deckard.

“Shit,” Deckard hissed out, and quickly stood up from his crouch and ran towards the stairs leading down to the lower floor and to Hobbs. He could hear several bullets ricocheting off the guardrail next to him. Ducking, he grabbed a different gun and easily raised it to shoot the men who were running up the stairs, trying to get to him.

Their bodies fell, making him have to jump over them and down the last few steps. He was immediately met with a baseball coming straight for his head. Dropping down, Deckard balanced on one foot and a hand on the ground, and sent a sweeping kick to his attacker’s legs, making the man hit the ground hard. Quick as lightning, Deckard moved over the man and hit him over the head hard with the butt of his gun, knocking the man out.

Jumping to his feet, Deckard kept charging forward, meeting another wave of Hulmes’ lackies head on. He ducked and weaved between them, easily dodging their fumbling limbs as they tried to fend him off. Every single one of them dropped to the ground, either from a vicious punch, a swift kick, or well placed bullet.

Panting, Deckard took on every person who came at him, and soon enough, the crowd of minions was thinning and leaving only about ten minions and Hulmes himself.

“Hey, arsehole!”

Shoving a guy off him, Deckard whipped his head around at the voice.

And felt his heart stop.

Standing behind Hobbs, holding a knife to his neck, was Hulmes.

“That’s right! If you don’t want me slitting this rat bastard’s throat open, then you better give right now, you piece of shit!” Hulmes shouted, the knife he was holding pressing further into Hobbs’ skin and making a line of blood to appear. “Drop you guns!”

Baring his teeth, Deckard let his current handgun fall from his hand and raised both hands to show his surrender. Two of Hulmes’ minions grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms tight behind his back. Ignoring the spike of pain that shot up his shoulders, Deckard let the men drag him towards where Hulmes and Hobbs were.

Now that he was much closer, Deckard felt another wave of rage wash over him as he took in the state Hobbs was in. He was clearly unconscious, his head hanging limp in Hulmes’ hold. There was a mess of bruises all over his face, while Deckard could see several cuts and gashes scattered all over his body, all of them slowly bleeding and soaking his clothing. The only thing keeping Deckard’s anger from spilling over was the fact that Hobbs’ chest was steadily moving up and down.

“That’s right,” Hulmes sneered. “One wrong move from you and I’ll cut your DSS buddy up.”

Deckard didn’t say anything, but felt a thrill of amusement go through him when Hulmes’ expression fell slightly at the glare Deckard was sending him.

“You two” Hulmes waved to some of his remaining men. “Search him and strip him of all of his weapons.”

Staying still, Deckard let the minions grab gun after gun off him, and couldn’t hold back the smug smirk that grew larger and larger as a formable sized pile started to form.

“Not so tough now are you, without all of your guns,” Hulmes taunted, his voice filled with faux confidence. Deckard could clearly see his hand shaking from where it still held a knife to Hobbs’ throat.

“I don’t need any gun to take you or your boys down,” Deckard said in a bored tone. Hulmes’ face scrunched up in confusion and fury. He shoved Hobbs’ head away from him, and stormed up to Deckard, shoving the knife so close to Deckard, he could just about feel the tip of it brushing against his nose.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but let me tell you, I won’t be bullied by some wannabe-”

While Hulmes was talking, Deckard subtly twisted his hand and was able to slip his watch off. With a hard thrust backwards, he was able to break the hold on his arms and snap his arm out to hit Hulmes across the face with his watch.

“Fuck!” Hulmes screeched and stumbled away.

The men who had been holding Deckard’s arms were staring at him in shock, not knowing what had just happened. Using their confusion, Deckard lunged toward them, with his watch wrapped around his knuckles, so the watch face was on the top of his fit. He heard a satisfying crunch as his fist landed on the first minion’s face. The second one went down just as quickly, still too stuck in his own confusion and fear as he watched Deckard take down his buddy.

The last few minions came at him fast and hard, but it was too easy to duck down, grab a gun and face them head on. The fight only lasted less than a minute, with each minion falling one after another. When the final body hit the floor, Deckard watched it disinterestedly, before looking up and tracking the room for Hulmes. The man was running straight for the main entrance.

Lifting his pistol, Deckard took aim and a final shot boomed through the warehouse as Hulmes’ body slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Deckard didn’t bother watching the body hit the floor, as he was already turning towards Hobbs and rushing towards his still slumped body. Gently, Deckard grabbed Hobbs’ head, each hand on a cheek.

“Hobbs. Hobbs! Can you hear me?” Deckard tried not to let the panic he was feeling slip into his voice. Still trying to be gentle, he patted Hobbs’ cheek, trying to get the man to wake up. “Hobbs!”

“Nnngh,” Hobbs finally groaned after a minute of nudging. His dark eyes blinked open, blurrily looking up at Deckard.

“Hobbs, thank Christ,” Deckard breathed out, cradling Hobbs’ head. He looked into the other man’s rapidly closing eyes, trying to see if his pupils were the same size.

“What…?” Hobbs slurred and promptly passed out again.

“Fuck sakes,” Deckard sighed out. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to drag you out of here, you giant?”

~~~

Luke’s not sure what woke him up; it could have been several things: the blinding light streaming in from the window, the loud voices he could hear not too far away, or the massive spiking pain that was going through his body. Well, it was definitely more in his head than anywhere else. Rubbing his head, Luke carefully levered himself up right, and took in the room around him.

It was a standard hotel room: outdated wallpaper, a bed, a dresser, a door to a bathroom, a door to the outside, and on the bed, Deckard Shaw.

Wait. What?!

Luke had to do a double take and whipped his head to look down at the man sleeping next to him. Laying next to Luke, the smaller man was curled up tight, still above the covers, with a hand stretched out towards Luke, almost as if he wanted to grab him.

What is he doing here? Wait, what am I doing here? What happened? Luke wondered to himself.

Frankly, even trying to remember more than his name hurt his head, but he tried to think back to the last twenty-four hours. One of Hulmes’ men had found him sneaking into one of the warehouses the mob family owned, and had been dragged inside, where he met Hulmes face to face. But, after that, things got hazy. Luke could easily remember the pain, the questions Hulmes spit in his face as he kicked or punched Luke repeatedly. He remembered passing out and the rest was a blank.

Keeping an eye on the ex-assassin still in the bed, Luke slowly swung his feet off the bed, trying to ignore how the world was spinning.

“Hobbs?” A voice rasped behind him.

Cursing under his breath, Luke turned and saw Shaw slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah?” Luke asked, keeping his voice level. He watched with narrowed as eyes as Shaw nimbly rolled off the bed onto his feet and rounded the bed to face Luke. Without thinking, Luke’s back straightened and he leaned back when Shaw was in front of him. The other man ignored him and was immediately grabbing the back of his head. Luke tried to jerk his head out of the strong grasp, but a sharp pain had him hissing out instead. “What the fuck are you doing, Shaw?”

“Checking how the lump on your head is, you absolute wanker,” Shaw mumbled back, focusing on feeling the said bump.

Luke was shocked to hear the actual concern running through Shaw’s voice and the way his touch stayed gentle, never once pressing too hard and causing pain. Soon enough, he nodded and took his hands away from Luke’s head, but then moved them to Luke’s torso, making Luke freeze at the feeling of those surprisingly soft hands on his bare chest, where several bandages were. And that’s when Luke realized just how close the other man was.

Shaw was practically standing in between Luke’s legs, his face only a few inches away from Luke’s as his brow furrowed as he checked Luke’s injuries. Luke could feel his face heat up and his heart beat faster by how close the smaller man was.

But all too soon, Shaw was pulling away and taking a step back from Luke. And Luke immediately missed having him so close.

“What do you remember?” Shaw asked bluntly, crossing his arms and waiting for Luke’s answer.

“Other than when Hulmes’ men caught me, not much,” Luke admitted.

“Bastards really got you,” Deckard said tightly. “You were completely out of it when I got there and saved your sorry arse.”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. That had definitely been concern in Shaw’s voice.

“You took Hulmes and his guys down?” Luke asked incredulously.

“Wasn’t that hard,” Deckard shrugged. “Hulmes might have acted like a hard ass, but as soon as I bitched slapped him, his tune changed.”

Luke couldn’t help but match the smirk on Deckard’s face with a smile. Most guys he faced acted tough, but could never really deliver. But when it came to Shaw, the man could always hold his own and find a way out of a situation, which Luke had to admit was impressive.

“Well, thanks, man,” Luke sincerely responded, catching the surprised look on Shaw’s face. “If you hadn’t come along, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Shaw mumbled, not looking Luke in the eye and shifted his weight from one leg to another. Luke couldn’t help the small smile on his face as he watched the bashful display. He’ll have to thank Shaw a lot more in the future. However, the other man cleared his throat before Luke could say anything else. “Do you think you can stand?”

“I think so,” Luke answered, a trace of uncertainty in his voice. Sitting up and staying still had helped the world to stop spinning, but Luke didn’t know what his balance would be like. It felt like someone had replaced his bones with jello.

Carefully, he hoisted himself off the bed and stood for a moment. So far, so good, Luke thought and took a step forward.

And almost fell flat on his face.

“Whoa there, big guy!” Deckard huffed out, catching Luke’s arms and helping him stand. Luke blinked rapidly, letting Deckard keep a hold on him and making sure he wouldn’t fall again. Because honestly, Luke had a feeling he would need the help.

After a moment of catching his breath, Luke looked down at the smaller man and felt his heart stutter at the way Shaw- wait, no- Deckard was looking at him. The worry in those deep, brown eyes was astounding as he carefully kept his grip on Luke firm, but gentle at the same.

Luke couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with so much worry and attention, other than Sam. And thinking about it, Luke wasn’t sure he could remember a time where someone had to come save his ass, take out the guy he had been hunting, and then drag him somewhere safe to patch him up. And all without expecting anything in return. Because Luke knew Deckard wasn’t the time to save someone and ask for payment. That’s not why he did it.

Looking down at the smaller man, Luke couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward and just barely brushed his lips against Deckard’s, causing him to let out a small gasp. Pulling back, Luke was expecting a punch, a shove, or to even to be yelled at. Instead, he felt Deckard’s hand once again on the back of his head, but this time, his grip was tighter as he kept Luke where he was and crashed their lips together.

It was like fireworks were exploding all throughout Luke’s veins from where they touched: from every motion of Deckard’s lips, to the way his arms clung to Luke’s, and when Deckard shoved his chest against Luke’s, trying to get as close as he could. Luke never wanted the feeling to end, but he could feel himself becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen.

Finally breaking the kiss, Luke rested his forehead against Deckard’s, both of them leaning on each other and catching their breath.

“We should leave soon,” Deckard whispered quietly, not daring to break the calm between them.

“Where’re we going?” Luke whispered back, slowly rubbing a thumb on Deckard’s arm.

“Breakfast first, and then to London, back to my place.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“But first, let’s get you dressed.” Deckard smiled and leaned in for one most swift kiss before pulling back. As they both moved to wrangle a shirt over Luke’s bandaged chest, Luke was again surprised how gentle and caring Deckard’s touch was. He could definitely get used to it.

Deckard wrapped an arm around Luke’s waist, both of them moving slowly since Luke’s legs were still doing an imitation of a newborn fawn’s. But suddenly, Luke stopped, something just occurring to him.

“Um, is this a bad time to tell you I probably can’t pay for breakfast since I don’t have my wallet anymore?” Luke asked hesitantly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, love. I’m sure I can find several ways you can repay me,” Deckard purred, his smirk holding several promises.

Smirking back, Luke was going to make sure that Deckard held to all of those promises.

#shobbs #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #hobbs and shaw #rescuing a loved one #rescue mission #hurt/comfort #small bits of violence #fast and furious series #fanfic #my fanfic

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