#what are they going to do. fire him? torture him? shoot him? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seospicybin · 3 months ago

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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART 2

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

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monstersholygrail · 3 months ago

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I've had an idea on my mind forever. I cant word it though, but I'll try my best.

Dragon friend whose secretly in love with their traveling partner/rider. Hers horny and the rider helps them, but hes far too big, resulting in him using his tongue, instead.

Reading this I can figure out what you meant, but the terms on who's doing what is a bit mixed and it gave me a hilarious idea.

When you arrived at the academy, they almost didn't know what to do with you. You were a giant after all. Most if not all their dragons were huge, sure, but huge for humans. Proportional to a human and what they'd need to ride. You had passed all the field and written exams with ease and how couldn’t you... you were a giant. So they couldn't exactly kick you to the curb. But what else could they do?!

And that's when they remembered your Dragon friend. He was ginormous, the biggest dragon in all the land. Much too big for a human to be able to control. But you? You were the answer to his prayers and he was the answer to yours. The two of you worked as an incredible team and became fast friends. And maybe something more. If either of you could just admit your feelings for one another.

Going out for patrols where you would have to ride your Dragon friend’s back was a special kind of torture for you both. Hours on end with no break as your sweet core is so close yet so far from where you both need it most. Your Dragon friend could feel the heat emit from you and it took all his strength not to throw you down and have his way with you. Meanwhile every flap of his wings sent his body bumping against you and you could barely hold yourself back from grinding against his scales.

Today was especially tricky as the winds didn’t seem to be on their sides. It seemed particularly intent on their ruin as it blowed rapidly against them, causing your Dragon friend to flap his wings furiously in attempts to steady the both of you. His body practically rocking between your thighs. You couldn’t help the arousal you feel building up inside you. And sadly, you aren’t subtle about it either as one long sniff and your Dragon friend can smell it as it surrounds his senses.

He quickly tells you he needs to land and before you can disagree he’s descending down to the ground. You try and act clueless as to why he’s paused your patrols but one look from him and a blush covers your cheeks. He tells you that he can’t fly like this with your smell wafting in his nose every few minutes and disorienting him.

That’s how you find yourself maneuvering your giant self on top of your Dragon friend’s snout. His large dragon body laying on his back and ready to lick your hole till you go weak in the knees. He can feel the fire burning in his throat, so turned on he could shoot flames right now.

He’s been waiting so long for this moment. Wanting to finally taste you more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. So when his tongue finally dips inside your core a growl rumbles through him and he unleashes his every desire onto you. His tongue swirling inside you and hitting every place right. You cry out, body jerking forward. Your hands finding purchase on the top of a couple trees in front of you. Using them as leverage to help grind into your Dragon friend’s face.

Your climax crashes through you as his tongue repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you that has your mind spinning and your toes curling. Your cum shoots all over your friend’s face and he roars in pleasure. You moan and shake as he works you through your orgasm. Then when he’s done he continues to care for you and helps clean you and his face up. Plus he just wants more of your taste on his tongue.

Afterwards as you’re both getting prepped to fly again, you’re a blushing mess while your friend acts like nothing happened. What you don’t know and will soon find out is how every time the scent of your arousal dares to fill his senses he’s gonna take you back to the ground and pound you into it.

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a-aexotic · 2 years ago

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HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

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joelsmochi · 8 months ago

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indulge - joel miller

summary: part 2 to every man gets his wish

warnings: not proofread, porn no plot it just some self indulgent cunnilingus ;)

wc: 850

a/n: couldn’t sleep so i wrote this in 30 minutes to tire my brain >_<. enjoy <3

series masterlist | main masterlist

The camera was in the way.

Your hips hanging off of the bed was prompted by Joel happily getting on his knees. He had a dream of what the angle might look like: camera on the floor, watching him destroy you with his tongue from below.

You couldn’t help but say sure when he asked, although it wouldn’t have taken you much convincing to begin with.

The camera was angled perfectly, showing off how sweetly your cunt glistened from the filthy mixture of your juices and Joel’s spit. His tongue was seen doing every trick in the fucking book, God it was fucking amazing.

But it didn’t feel quite right. Joel’s body wasn’t pressed against yours like usual when he ate you out; his arms weren’t wrapped around your thighs while he brutally suffocated your pussy with the intensity of his mouth. He was holding back, and you hated feeling teased.

The camera was in the fucking way.

Joel sensed it when you moaned but let out a slight huff at the end of it (for the thousandth time).

“What, baby? What’s got you irritated?” He sighed after pulling away.

You sat up slightly, shooting a pout at his puppy eyes.

“You’re holding back, you’re not on me,” you explained. “The camera’s in the way.”

He chuckled, “Well, yeah, darlin’. I gotta keep the camera steady.”

“Fuck the camera!”

You tugged his hair to shove his face back into your sopping wet skin, then shifted your body deeper into his.

With hands melting into your thighs and pressure from his shoulders you felt that lick of intimacy that your body required. His warm tongue lacing the letter of his name into your precious little clit while his stubble scraped tickles into your flesh set your body on fire.

The pitch of your moans grew higher every time your core took another daring step closer to the edge. Your knuckles were pale from your grip on his greying hair, thighs pushing the remaining air out of his lungs.

This was Joel’s favorite part of it all. The torture. The pain.

Fucking you so good you could only tighten your grip or your squeeze or scream into his ear — whatever it was — it was a high Joel’s would never fucking live down.

He figured from the last twenty minutes of teasing he’d wanna see this orgasm over and over and over again, so he slowed down just long enough to put the camera back on the tripod and angled it to see both of your bodies.

Then his eyes peered up and found your sweaty beet red face. Your ponytail was a mess and your baby hairs were stuck to your forehead.

Good God, he’d never seen you so pent up.

You were tired, worn out, and Joel was going to take care of everything for you.

Moaning into your clit, you shuddered, grieving the constant waves of your climax coming and going. He was working you up to the very last moment you could hold onto, knowing how much you needed this orgasm to break you even if you didn’t know it yourself.

The moment you began softly grinding against his face he knew it was time; he traded licking for sucking because it drove you fucking insane. Not just the motion, but the constant tug of your sensitive bud between his lips that made it so puffy and red kept you wanting more.

And when it broke you, Joel held you steady, watching you arch off of the bed and into his hold without making a sound. Your throat and chest filling with unheard sounds, eyes watering and flooding your cheeks with tears, until your body finally let you exhale.

“Fuck! Ahh! Holy— fuckfuckfuck—yes, Joel! Oh my fucking God—“

Loud, praising babbles emptied from you and flooded his ears.

He couldn’t stop now, could he? No fucking way you’d want him to let up. You were shaking and shivering and screaming for him like your life depended on it.

You looked so perfect to him as you died from pure bliss, not tapping out if it meant your orgasm would prevail forever.

And he held out as long as his body could live without air. His lips parted lazily, allowing him to take a deep breath.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, tasting the remnants of you that coated his puffy lips.

You laid back, body still shaking, allowing Joel to give you a few kisses down your thigh and one last lick between your swollen folds. He smoothed a hand over your stomach to help relax you, soothing you into a lightweight slumber.

He took care of the camera and the mess between your legs before carefully moving you up the bed to lay next to him. He pulled his navy blue covers over you and kissed your forehead, watching the smile that appeared on your face afterwards.

“Told you the camera was in the way,” you said cockily despite your sleepy tone, making him snicker.

“How ‘bout you keep that pretty little mouth shut ‘fore I find somethin’ to shove in it?”

[yourusername] has uploaded a new video!

⤷ DILF Neighbor Eats Me To Sleep

Click to view!

taglist: @theoraekenslover

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller blurb #joel miller tlou

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maidenvault · 7 months ago

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Okay so, Crosshair’s hand.

Has anyone pointed this out? When Crosshair kills Nolan, he doesn't use his shooting hand.

He uses his left. Just as he very significantly has to in the series finale.

I don't know if the writers knew as far back as "The Outpost" that Crosshair was going to lose the use of his shooting hand and by extension everything he believed made him strong, a "superior" clone, and safe from being discarded when he was kind of fascism-pilled. But it feels extra significant in retrospect that his first action taken against the Empire is not done with the hand associated with the terrible things he did as an Imperial sniper. And it's after he just got a difficult lesson about how his own personal strength and skills aren't enough to protect him - he was saved twice by Mayday, then possibly only survived through the night because he wouldn't leave him behind and could share his body heat. He may be using his left hand when he shoots Nolan because his other arm is tired from supporting Mayday all the way back, which only adds to the symbolic touch I love that Mayday is using his rifle as a crutch to help him walk as well (and of course, he's at close range so quite meaningfully Crosshair doesn't use the rifle to shoot here either). It all supports the idea of this as the first huge moment of transformation for Crosshair when he's finally turning his fire on the real enemy out of a desire to protect others, however futile and too late it is in this particular situation.

Going back and noticing this really reinforced for me that Crosshair's hand injury probably isn't just meant as a manifestation of his trauma related to Tantiss. It would make sense considering it's his shooting hand that it also has something to do with his inner conflict regarding his changed relationship with violence and killing.

The Batch were introduced as these stereotypically macho soldier characters, an impression that's softened a little as early as the pilot of TBB but still distinguishes them a little from other clones. In a kind of funny way you can look at the whole series as being about these guys who were only brought up to fight gradually discovering and finding peace with their more traditionally feminine sides - literally because of Omega, a female version of themselves who shows them the possibilities of being a family and living for others instead of for violence.

For Crosshair this journey is much more difficult and like a painful rebirth than it is for anyone else because being a soldier was so much of his identity. He's always been the one to most pointedly distinguish his squad from regs because of their "superior" traits that he thinks will make the Empire value them, and he clearly internalized the way the Kaminoans only care about clones as weapons to be used in war. And it all betrays how little value Crosshair actually believes he has deep down. It was easy to go into S3 being especially worried about his fate because he's believed so long that he's not good for anything but fighting and he's the character it was the hardest to imagine adjusting to a different life.

But in retrospect, it was stupid to think they'd let him off that easy and of course the whole point is that it takes a lot to get him there. What exactly he went through on Tantiss beyond the electroshock torture we've seen is never delved into but personally, I think being a soldier is something that's poisoned for Crosshair after he becomes a victim of the Empire himself and subject to their attempts at reconditioning. He's not psychologically able to be that person anymore, but for a long time is still trying to largely rely on himself and his own strength. He tries to sacrifice himself for others because he's still holding onto that part of himself in a way.

But for once in Star Wars we've gotten a fully realized redemption arc showing that sometimes what's harder than giving your life in a redemptive way is to actually have to figure out how to live with the bad things you've done and be better. Some of the people Crosshair hurt were his family, and he has to learn he can only make things better by being there for them. He has to learn that he actually can survive and figure out a way forward from his life as a soldier if he lets himself rely on them, just like he only survived Barton IV with help from Mayday. As @moonstrider9904 explains so well in this post, that is what's so important about Crosshair losing the hand and making that final shot to save Omega with Hunter's support. Symbolically he's had that toxic part of himself actually cut off and it's the final, most painful part of his rebirth. But because of that he's forced to find that he can live on without it, that he's surrounded by people who love and believe in him anyway, and that having superhuman skills as a killer was never what gave him worth.

No, having his shooting hand cut off doesn't "fix" anything or mean that Crosshair is healed. He's probably only begun to recover from everything he's been through. But all we really need to see is that he's firmly found his place as part of a family instead of a squad, and he's not going to be alone as he deals with all of that.

#the bad batch #the bad batch meta #crosshair #tbb crosshair #commander mayday #star wars #meta #my meta

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sylvaridreams · 5 months ago

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Inhales. You know what gets me when I think about Heart of Thorns. The anti-sylvari sentiment in-universe was SO real for a while there. During the period of time where the whole world of Tyria learned the secret that Wynne had died to protect, that sylvari came from the jungle dragon, that they were made to serve it. Everyone turned on them. Friends, lovers, commanding officers, it didn't matter anymore. They COULD turn mordrem at any time, so you had to assume that they would. You couldn't trust something that belonged to a dragon. Even Laranthir (of the Wild) right after the crash, being held captive by his own people, waiting for him to go feral and tear their throats out. The sylvari Commander was granted a little wiggle room, a little space to walk around freely, but it's all very conditional. Prove you're a good one, that you won't fall to the dragon. There's the event in Verdant Brink where they round up all the sylvari in a camp and ask you to interrogate them, to break them down until they confess to being mordrem. And inevitably a few of them are hiding among the camp, but an equal number of sylvari run from you in fear, more afraid of you and the Pact than the certain death of the jungle beyond. The other innocents that stay don't have a choice. It's keep your head down and don't say anything or be killed, one way or another, while the Commander that you've worked under for the past couple of years interrogates a crying novice, asking if they've heard a voice. And who hasn't heard the voice at that point? The Commander admits to hearing it too. Canach likens it to a buzzing fly. Irritating. Nothing more. Strong willed sylvari don't stumble when Mordremoth speaks. But even that's not true; maybe not everyone's played Heart of Thorns on a sylvari Commander, but the closer you get to the dragon, you start to falter, to black out and lose time. In its domain you actually do fall to it. Briefly. Just for a while, you forget who you are and what you're doing there, and mordrem start giving you killing orders. And you snap out of it and never tell anyone, never. They can't know how close you got.

But what GETS ME is that after the dragon is dead, no one talks about it. It all returns to normal. Like the tension was never there in the first place. I'm sure there might be some loaded quips about sylvari in Living World Season 3 right after, but the next time I actually can recall it coming up is in Path of Fire. Right as you get into Desert Highlands; Canach says something about "I always knew this whole human/gods arrangement wouldn't work out" and Kasmeer shoots back "This coming from someone with a DRAGON in their family tree." And that's that. No one actually really discusses it in-game. They all moved on and don't care if you're a dragon minion or not.

Which. Augh. WHAT!!!!! NO ONE CARES? I'm sure it's a better end-user experience than if everyone you encountered as a sylvari player was like "OOOOOH I DON'T TRUST YOUR TYPE... YOU WRETCHED DRAGON PLANT FOLK" but narratively it's a little boring. At least in the sense that it doesn't feel finished. There should still be tons of anti-sylvari sentiment in Tyria and propaganda spread to force them out of parts of society and stupid hoops to jump through to be considered safe. Just as I think that sylvari should still hold anti-asura sentiment--you're telling me their small second generation had a huge group taken away and tortured to death and there's no ingrained fear of it happening again? I want my sylvari commander to have met Gorrik in LWS4 and been like haha. uh. 😥 (do I really have to work with this guy. An inquest...) (and EVENTUALLY come to like and trust him!) instead of the game plowing over it like oh yeah don't worry about it n_n the facility exploded and all so he doesn't work there now don't worry n_n NO I'M WORRIED!-- again I'm sure that the smoothing over of Everything is a better end-user experience. rather than everyone you meet being rude to you or vice versa. However----💥 (I am killed by a sniper from a long distance so that I stop talking before I begin delving into the prejudices that are already baked into the narrative)

#hi. do you still love me even if i make a long winded post that says nothing in it.

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soy-soi-si · 3 months ago

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Imagine y/n having to join the team as a stand in for another person that was supposed to be there. And everything goes wrong.

Tw. angst, brief torture, injuries, death, past abuse, helplessness, reader almost dying. Foul language! Really crappy writing and not proof read prolly missing a few Tw's as well.

Y/n doesn't like the group at first. They seem patronizing, constantly talking about the person who was going to join. Constantly asking if you could actually do what he was supposed to. Hell even when she was completing the mission they kept checking on her more than each other even if two of them were under fire. She got so annoyed with Price after the genuine thirtieth time he told her the step by step of what she already did.

“If you keep fucking patronizing me I'll bust your balls Mr. Price is right. Now fuck off I'm already done.” She sighs at the deactivated bomb having completely gutted it and made sure it's not going to explode. Not to mention rescuing the hostages and securing the building and her section.

The laughter over comes echo's in her ear as she turns to the man it was strapped to as he cries out his thanks. She already checked him for weapons along with the other hostages; she untied them all and now has them in a corner taking cover just in case. Mostly women and a couple kids like three men including the one she saved.

She also deactivated the other bombs in her building and surrounding. “Christ sake your feisty lass!” she scoffs in response to soap, no longer looking at the civilians “You cunts have done nothing but baby and patronize me the entire time I've been around you. Sit and spin you big bitch.” The others chuckle at the end of the sentence.

“What am I sitting on again lassie?” she smirks “My fuckin 31cm dildo I'm gonna fuck you with later.” The cackles echo from gaz and roach. She hums before turning back to the civilians. “She's right about you patronizing her.” Ghost's voice echoes from the coms as a gunshot does as well. “my sector is clear.” She blinks as she hears movement outside.

“I think some strays came to my sector. I'm hearing stuff outside.” She raises her gun slowly moving to a window. She catches a peak of a huge group of the enemy surrounding her building. “I'm surrounded, there's easily a hundred if not over. Shit!” she notices one of them aiming up at the windows and she drops down. “these guy were not fucking anywhere near here until now…” she pauses as she hears one of the radios from the enemy in the hall and she crawls over to the door and she spots it sitting out front by the dead body and she grabs it closing the door again.

She listens to them moving to defend the hostages. “shit, they're telling everyone to come to my building!” She puts the other Radio against her mic. “Find the hostages, and the woman…” that's all she can make out before the window shatters along with an explosion. “take her alive and kill everyone else.” her ears are ringing as she sees someone coming out of the smoker and she shoots at them.

Searing agony sweeps through her after a second. She couldn't even tell she screamed as someone tackled her. “Get the fuck off of me!” Shooting them straight in the face then she shoots once at any movement she can make out the gun quickly clicking in response so she drops it pulling her handgun.

Then it's knocked from her hand as soldiers shoot at her from the doorway and it doesn't take long for her to realize she's on the floor surrounded by enemies. Each hostage she just saved gathered in front of her an executive guilt filling her body as each of them are made to look at her. She can't lift her hands or legs anymore in pure agony as the adrenaline is gone and so is each person she just met.

The seemingly leader steps in front of her holding a knife flipping it in his hand smiling as he crouches down to her eye level. She saw his picture and couldn't help but recognize him. “Hello there doll, you mind telling me where the pretty boy who was supposed to be on this mission is?” she glares at him. As he taps it against her neck, lightly cutting her skin each time. “So you've got Intel from our base. Sorry but he's fuckin dead. Died off base via a psycho girlfriend who thought he was cheating on him.” he takes a second before smiling. “Amazing news, pity I didn't get the honor though.” he cuts her wire. “But I'll make up for that with you pretty girl.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

She never wanted to die, at least not like this, not after lying her ass off about everything they wanted to know as they tortured her. She wanted to gloat in their face after what she said gets them caught and killed. But she could be proud at least at the wide eye angel personality and face she's pulling the cries and blubbering all fake.

“Puhluse I've told you everything!” She sniffles crying in agony, her eyes wide as she's pushed into a freezer, one you would have in a garage for wild game or fish except it's more like a transport cooler in size. The lid slammed shut over her and it's pushed into a hole of sorts crashing into the side then onto the small box beneath her.

“No, no no!” She tries pushing the lid up but it's heavier and heavier as dirt covers it. “FUCKIN BASTARD!” She kicks the lid, not even budging. She lays as she notices how cold it is here, probably freshly turned off.

She takes a few deep breaths as she knows she'll die in here sooner or later. She searches for her phone in her bra quickly finding it. Looking at the battery it's almost dead. “Shit” 10% she quickly shoots a text to her brothers group chat. A simple I love you. Before she calls the number one of the idiots gave her before they actually went on field. She desperately listens to the ringing before it's picked up. “Are you the Sargent!” She can hear the vehicle running. “Yes it's fuckin me! I lied to them about the information. They're headed for West Point and go get them! I want them to die for this!” She tears up knowing damn well she's setting herself up to die sending them away from her she bites her lip sniffling at the bright screen in agony.

“I’m sorry I fucked up big time. Just tell my brothers I'm sorry and that I love them.” “Y/n where are you.” Price's voice now echoes from the phone. “Dunno, but I'll be, I'll be.” she chokes back a sob at the words memories coming back as she looks at the lid above her. “I’ll be fine, just go get 'em for me. West point I sent them towards the dummy container and warehouse they're looking for weaponry.” her hands are shaking as the cold gets to her.

“Y/n breathe for me what are your surroundings like right now.” Gaz practically chokes out his question. “They buried me. You won't find me in time even if you look. Just go get them! Stop worrying about me and go get them! I didn't just go through torture for you to fucking fail on me!” She is starting to get sleepy as she switches her phone to the most battery saving settings she can. Sniffling, she looks at the phone. “Please tell him I love him and that I'm sorry. He's the, he's the one that was supposed to be on the mission he's my little brother,” laughing once she sighs, “Thank you for everything even if it was annoying for you to patronize me.” She smiles at the screen as Ghost goes to speak “we’re not going to-” it dies in the middle of his sentence, leaving her alone in the pitch black. She begins sobbing uncontrollably holding her phone in front of her wishing it was still on.

“N-no, ple-euase, I don-n't wa-auhnnt to digh-ie,” she can't breathe with how much she's choked up. “N, Noaut liku- ke, th-This-ss,” she's just getting more distraught by the second as all the composure she's been keeping until now is gone. She just sits there remembering her life, her recent life, then her childhood remembering how her dad would lock her in their freezer when he got angry.

“Da-Daddy please I don't want to die like this.” she can practically hear him scream from the other side as white spots appear in her vision. “Shut the fuck up you little whore!”

She reaches up barely able to feel her body as she knocks on the freezer like how she used to since it was against her and her siblings room. She can't even speak as she can't move anymore and she turns looking at her phone again in her limp hand.

I'm so sorry, I said I'd be fine on my own.

She didn't even realize she passed out not until her eyes opened again as sudden warmth hit her, let alone how it grabbed her neck. “She's alive!” Roaches' voice screams from above her as she's ripped from the freezing cold and put on the burning hot dirt of the outback. Someone pushed her onto her back doing chest compression then grabbing her nose before blowing into her mouth her head tilted back. Once then twice. Then three times as suddenly she gains control of her breathing, her head no longer as fuzzy as she chokes breathing looking around dazed.

She's rolled onto her side. “She's lost a huge amount of blood, the freezer floors full of it!” She hears roach climbing out as she lays her head on the dirt, unable to move besides shaking, noticing the early signs of hypothermia in her hands as they're almost blue.

“I got her phone to come on!” Roach and the second person here get in the back of the buggy and she notices finally it's a blonde man with a balaclava pulled down showing his scarred face then she sees the familiar mask on the top of his head and the tactical gear and she hears soap cursing in the front. “Patch her up already you fuckin bastards!” she looks at Ghost, feeling her tear stained face clearly along with her snot caked onto her. Seeing some on him from mouth to mouth.

He leans over her trying to wrap her head but she reaches up using what's left of her sleeve to wipe off her snot and tears off of him. He looks at her surprised but more so worried. “Aren’t you handsome, sorry about the snot.” her voice is barely there as her arm falls as she passes out again.

She didn't know scared older military men were her type.

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papipedroo · 10 months ago

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Rupture (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Five of Whiskey Tears

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

Joel was drowning. Not in the metaphorical sense that he has experienced from time to time, feeling as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his lungs… No. Actual drowning.

“Again.” Heather had four men shove him backdown into the river.

There was barely any time to gasp for breath with each shove back under the icy frost. It was as if he grew numb to the freezing temperatures each time his head went under water. He was going to start getting hyperthermia soon.

“Bring him back up.” Heather ordered and once again he was brought up to the surface from the icy depth.

Joel coughed up water, finally able to catch his breathe. His clothes were soaked to his skin and the rim of his eyes were rimmed red.

Heather crouched in front of Joel. A long sigh left her lips as she spoke, “We’ve been at this for a while… Are we going to talk now or do I have to bring Ellie out here? Tell me Joel, have you taught her how to swim yet?”

It was a known fact by anyone that Joel’s looks could kill any threat in his path. There was a promise looming in his gaze, one that only told of impending murder. Two of the men had tightened their grip on his arm and shoulder from the way Joel tensed.

“What.” He stated as if he wasn’t trying to catch his breath moments ago.

She crouched in front of him. Three steps and his shotgun was the only thing between them.

“It took three days and now this town and everyone in it, is mine.” She stated.

“Good for you.” Joel gruffed out, the least bit interested.

“You know what I want, Joel.” Heather was becoming irritated now, “I want your allegiance. I want your loyalty. I want you.”

He didn’t dignify her with a response, his glare the only thing keeping her from feeling empowered.

She sighed, “You know that your brother and his wife refuse to cooperate… For days now, my friends have talked about shooting them… They make a good point that it would put your family out of their misery from living in the way that the world is now. Especially with a new life that will be coming soon.” Her gaze flickered to the gun as Joel began to struggle against the four men in an attempt to ring her neck.

“I decided against that though. I knew it wouldn’t make you happy so I locked your family away instead. I promise you that they are safe…” Her hazel eyes looked past his glare and into his broken soul, “If you cooperate that is.”

Joel didn’t like the way her mouth curled into a condescending smile. She knew that she got him.

The warmth of the fire did little to create a comforting warmth in your body as you cried out into a soiled cloth from the overwhelming pain. Mikel’s hands worked to clean out and stitch the wound he caused to your leg as you faded in and out of consciousness.

“Just a little more, love.” His tender words did nothing, they were nothing, and he would never be anything to you.

You wanted Joel… You wanted your little Ellie… You wanted to go home… You missed your family and you regret that the last words spoken to Joel were of anger. You regret that you couldn’t see Ellie’s face that morning. You regret not having tea with Maria. You regret not helping Tommy surprise Maria with a baby crib.

“Why won’t the bleeding stop?” Mikel’s voice held panic, “I need to cauterize your wound.”

I shook my head faintly at that, but it meant no difference as he left and returned with a blade scorching hot from the fire.

There were so many regrets that you couldn’t amend and now… Now you might die without seeing what could have been.

“This is going to hurt.” Mikel said as he gently place a cloth in your mouth.

You screamed as soon as the blade touched your skin. It hurt more than the pain of the gunshot as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your body shook before slacking against the bed.

Your vision blurred as your mind went dark.

It took two days before you were able to gain your bearings. The pain in your leg was dull as long as you didn’t move it around too much. Your eyes tracked the motion of Mikel’s shadow pacing just outside of the cabin door. His words were set in a hush whisper as he spoke to someone else. Someone you didn’t recognize. You strained your ears to listen to what they were discussing.

“So… Jackson has been overtaken.” Mikel asked, “Are the townspeople alright?”

“Yes.” It was the voice of another man, “Heather did what she said she would and it…” You strained your ears to hear, but missed part of what he said. You did however hear him say the word, “Success.”

“That’s good.” You could hear Mikel’s sigh of relief, “I hope that with time my love and I can return. I want us to be able to live peacefully…”

“We are glad to have you apart of our group. I will see you and your girl soon brother. Let the red dawn rise.”

“Let the red dawn rise.” Mikel repeated and a pair of footsteps traveled away from the house.

You quickly lied back down and pretended that you weren’t eavesdropping on their conversation. Mikel stepped inside the hut, snow falling off his coat as he removed the cowboy hat from his head.

“I know that you’re awake little pisi.” He said. The sound of his boots traveled across the room as he walked closer.

You weren't sure if the last word was an endearment or not, but it made your stomach twist in knots. You felt nauseated at how quickly he tell into the role of a lover with the high expectation of you doing the same. You wondered if that could be your safest way out of here.

Maybe playing along with his delusion will help let his guard down before making your escape. It was the only option you had being as you were wounded and he had the antibiotics to help you and if you just shot him that would do you any good.

Yes, you would have control over yourself and medicine, but how long would you need antibiotics for your leg to heal and with Jackson being overrun… How were you supposed to get more? No... This was the safest option. You just had to play your cards right… For now at least.

"Who was that?" You spoke with a scratchiness to your voice from being in and out of consciousness these last few days.

Mikel's quick observations had him getting you a glass of water before you even had the chance to ask for some. It seemed he was a little too observant. Something that you had to be wary of.

"A new friend from town." His answer was vague, something that you had already expected. Of course he didn't trust you enough to divulge any information from the que that was staged.

"They've taken everything haven't they?" You asked another question or more of a statement.

He looked away from you and towards the fireplace, "It's better this way."

"For who? For you?" You scoffed before taking a sip of water. You didn't realize how thirsty you were until the cup was empty in less than a second. You continued, “Clearly you have gotten everything that you desired.”

"I did this for us." He snapped back, a glare held in his blue eyes as he got up from his stood as stormed to the fireplace to place some more logs in, “This is better for us. This place will be our home until you have settled in to our new life. Everything that we have and will receive soon is a happiness more than we can ever imagine.”

"How?" You muttered, "Everything was fine before. The townspeople were happy… I was happy. We were all comfortable and at peace in our own way. There was no reason for any of this. You took my choice away from me."

"But there was a reason." You could see the way his fingers gripped around one of the logs. You could tell that you were pushing his temper, “He was not good for you. Everyone could see that. He hurt you, discarded you, betrayed you. He did everything that I will never do to you…” Mikel gently traced his fingers over the bandage on your leg, “Again. I promise.”

You kept your mouth shut, afraid to set him off. He was clearly trapped in his own delusions of what could be and saying anything towards the two of us would clearly make him angry. Instead you focused on talking about the people who took him in. Who he once considered friends.

"How could you betray everyone?" You spoke quietly, "The people who took you in and gave you a home? You took their trust and ripped it to shreds Mikel."

"I didn't!" He threw the log across the room. The wood crashed against the wall before knocking over a crooked picture frame, the two crashing to the ground.

At least that was better than him crushing your leg.

"Tell that to the ones whose corpses litter the streets.” You replied, your voice still soft, but making its point across.

The room filled in a deafening silence.

Light flickered in through the cracks of the jail, creating enough light for Ellie, Tommy, and Maria to see. The raiders didn't care enough to turn any of the lights on for their prisoners, but at least they remembered to bring food and water.

"Bitch." Ellie exasperated as she pulled against the old bars of the jail.

"Language Ellie." Maria sighed as she rested against the back wall.

"I think this predicament calls for a little language sweetheart." Tommy murmured as he check the strength of the cell bars on the other side.

"Those bars were made to hold, you know this." Maria explained.

“I know sweets. I just want to make sure we’re not missing anything.” Tommy explained gently.

Maria nodded, "I know dear, it’s just… You both need to save your strength. We need a solid plan to get out of here."

Tommy thought for a long moment as he concocted a plan to safely get out of here.

"We'll wait till one of em lets their guard down." Tommy spoke quietly once a plan formulated in his mind

He stepped back from the bars, his military training kicking in as he spoke, "I've been watching their movements. They only care about how much damage they can inflict with the biggest weapon. They don't seem trained or vigilant. Their shift changes are every twelve hours. Group B is more docile, they’re tired from the day and are easily deceived. We can make our move towards midnight when they are exhausted.”

He looked at Maria, “This is where you come in dear. I need you to pretend that you are going into labor. Scream as loud as you can. Ellie, I need you by her side at this point and I need you to be loud and panicked. Once they opened the cell, I can get one of their guns. Then it'll be easy to get out of here. We have four hours left until shift change so we just have to be patient and don’t set off group A." He looked towards Ellie.

She raised her hands up in surrender, "What?"

"Ellie." He pressed.

"Okay okay." She sighed, "No setting them off. Got it."

And there it was. It was small and had barely a percentage of working, but it was a plan that could just as save their lives. As long as they played their cards right that is… Tommy sat next to his wife, wrapping her in his warmth to keep her from the cold. At least these raiders kept the blankets in here. He watched as Ellie curled into one to try and get as much rest as she possibly could. Tommy made a silent promise to himself that no matter what happens, he would keep his family safe.

He could only hope that his brother had everything under control on his end... If he was alive for that matter.

"My family." Joel huffed as he was shoved with the tip of a rifle.

"Follow me." Heather walked through the streets.

The snow was gently falling now making it easy to see, "You'll see them when I can trust you again."

“You’re the one who broke that trust.” He pointed out.

Heather of course didn’t like that as she huffed, “I did what I had too.”

No. You really didn’t.

Joel didn't reply as he quietly assessed the four men that were guarding him. He knew that Heather could handle a gun, but he can take her easily. The two to his left looked to be brothers with the way they mirrored each other, they were both to upbeat as if they enjoyed this kind of work. They would be easy to take down. The one on his left was skinny with a shaky hand and a frightened look in his eyes. Joel knew that if he took the two out on his left first then that one would go off runnin. Now the one behind him with the crooked nose and a nasty snarl... He was going to be a problem.

"You will be kept under guard here.” She said.

“My. Family.” Joel repeated. His was a man of few words, but he was persistent.

“They will be able to live here with you once I know that you can be trusted. Wouldn’t want you to get the band back together and ruin my entire plan, would we?” Heather gave him a look, “No more talk of this. Now get inside and change. I have plans for you and I don’t want you dying from hyperthermia.”

With that, Heather left and the four guards remained. One of the upbeat brothers shoved him inside the home. The three young men headed inside with Joel while the tough looking one kept guard just outside the door.

“I reckon don’t need to show ya where the shower is.” Link laughed as he took off his coat.

Joel didn’t give him an answer and began to make his way upstairs.

“Oh! And we found all yer weapons so don’t even think about looking old man.” Link’s brother Preston said as he pulled off his beanie, his short dirty blonde hair tussled.

Joel had an urge to punch that kid in the face. But he resisted as he reached the top of the steps and out of their sight.

“Don’t even think he’d be able to reload the damn gun even if we gave him one.” Preston laughed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that Link.” The younger, scrawny looking one spoke.

“What?” Link wrapped his hand around the back of his neck that was covered by his shoulder length brown hair, “You scared of an old man Mathias?”

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t get too comfortable.” He said quickly moving himself away. Joel could hear the three of the shuffling to the living room.

“Yeah right.” Link rolled his eyes, “I could kill that old man with one hand tied around my back.”

The sunlight was beginning to drown in the dusk and Joel knew that if he wanted to get to his family alive then he would need to be smart in his next moves.

Joel carried himself up the steps, worn out and tired, but a plan formulating in his mind. He walked past each room, all of them open and ransacked. The bedroom to his door was wide open, the same chaotic mess dawning his floor.

A floor that hadn’t been tampered with. Maybe the heavens were on his side. He hoped that this same luck would stay on his side.

Joel only halfway shut his door. He didn’t want to make any noise for what he would do, but he also needed them to hear the creak of his door. He made his way to the bathroom, his boots hitting the floor rougher than usual to have them think that he was an old man, one that made noise wherever he went.

He turned on the water to his shower before silently walking back to his room. With the stealth of someone even a clicker wouldn’t hear, he retrieved a 9mm pistol and a tactical knife from under the floor board. It was the weapons that he got for his firefly and he silently thanked her for keeping them hidden here. He checked to make sure it was loaded before heading back to the bathroom to take a much needed shower.

He needed the cover of night to exact his plan.

“How did an old man like that even pull someone like her?” Preston wondered as he took a sip of the whiskey he swiped from Joel’s cupboard.

“I don’t know man, but I went by Mikel’s cabin the other day.” Link said.

“Mikel has a cabin?” Mathias wondered, “He’s a new member like me right? Does this mean we all have the choice to leave if we want to?”

“Mikel’s barely apart of this group and I ain’t tellin you where that cabin is.” Link shook his head, “You get any ideas of leaving, you know where your body is gonna be.”

“Dude, he has the life out there. I got a peak of her before he closed the door and let me tell ya, even half dead she’s a peach. I swear either he railed her so hard that she couldn’t move or that gunshot wound is really getting the best of her.” Link laughed with his brother chuckling along with him.

“Romanians man, they sure know what they’re doing.” Preston replied as he and his brother clinked their glasses.

Joel wondered if his favorite color was red with how much he has been seeing it lately. He silently creeped along the hallway and down the staircase, not one creek in the floorboards as he drew closer to the laughing hyenas in his living room. He wanted to kill them.

“You shouldn’t talk about women like that.” Mathias interjected, “That girl could be seriously hurt you know.”

“What would you know, you virgin?” Preston scoffed as he poured another glass of whiskey, “I bet you haven’t even seen a woman naked before.”

Mathias continued over stuttering words, “Just because I haven’t seen a woman naked before doesn’t mean I don’t know right from wrong. It’s not right to disrespect them.”

Joel briefly thought about sparing the kid. It seemed to him that he had no idea what he was doing with a group of blood thirsty raiders. If Mathias played his cards right then maybe he could survive.

“Sometimes… You really show your age kid.” Link shook his head.

“How about you come talk to us like real many when you’ve got your cherry popped alright?” Preston’s voice boomed in laughter, “I’m going to go take a leak.”

The other two though… There was no mercy left in Joel. He wanted to tear them apart until their guts painted his carpet his favorite color… But he thought against that because his firefly picked out that carpet and she would hate it if it got ruined.

Preston was easy as Joel waited in the hallway by the stairs. He was covered by the shadows that Preston didn’t even have a chance to scream as Joel dragged his into the darkness, a hand around his mouth and a knife imbedded deep into his neck.

And then he waited as patiently as he watched his next victim fall right into his trap.

“Yo Press! You get lost or somethin?” Joel heard Link yell.

When Link didn’t receive an answer from his brother, Joel knew he got him. He heard Link stand up as fear rippled down the raider’s spine. Link’s hands quickly grabbed his rifle as he called out again, “Preston!” And he listened intently for the response of his brother.

“You don’t think…” Mathias’s voice trailed off as he gulped.

“No. We would have heard that old man walk down the stairs if he were up.” Link shook his head, “He probably just can’t hear me, the drunk bastard. Go take a look.”

“What?” Mathias’s eyes widened in fear, “Why do I have too? He’s your brother. You should go see if he’s alright.”

“Because I’m the one with the gun and what I say goes.” Link pointed it towards the kid, “You want me to remind you of the last time you disobeyed me?”

Mathias shook his head in fear.

“Good. Now go take a look.” Link motioned to the hallway.

Joel listened as he heard Mathias trudge slowly to the hallway. Joel noted the kid didn’t have a gun, leaving him to believe that his was most likely by the front door.

“Preston?” Mathias stuttered out as he ventured further into the hallway. He was terrified, his hands shaking because he knew that something had happened and here he was being sentenced to death by a mad man.

“Please—” Mathias thought it would be best to try and plead for his life, but before he could finish, Joel’s hand was wrapped around his mouth.

“You don’t want to die right?” Joel spoke low, barely above a whisper.

Mathias struggled to shake his head no from the tight grip that Joel had, but he got his point across.

“Then go out there and distract him. Keep him from looking towards the hallway.” Joel commanded, “Do as I say and you live to see another day kid.”

Mathias gulped as he nodded. Joel let him go and watched as the kid tried to get his footing. Mathias straighted out as he tried his best to look normal.

“Anything?” Link asked as soon as Mathias appeared.

Mathias walked around him and waited till Link’s back was facing the hallway before he explained.

“I found your brother passed out in one of the guest rooms.” He lied. From the corner of his eyes he could see Joel creeping out from the shadows so he continued, “He probably thought that you and I could handle the rest of the night on look out.”

“Like hell I’m going to stay up. You and that big oaf out there is going to keep watch. I’m heading to—“ Before Link could finish speaking, Joel hit him across the head with the blunt end of his gun.

Mathias blubbered his words as he looked between Link and Joel.

“The man outside. He loyal to your cause?” Joel asked.

“Yes.” Mathias answered truthfully and he knew that he just condemned another one of his squad members to death.

“You gonna run?” Joel asked.

“No sir and…” Mathias spoke quickly, “I’m not loyal to them. I just want to survive, I swear. I barely know this group.”

“I know.” Joel took his knife out of his belt loop, “Tie him up in the kitchen. Ropes in the closet.”

With those orders, Joel left out the back door with one mission in mind. Embed his knife as deep as he can into the skull of the raider outside.

That left Mathias alone and he listened to Joel’s orders. He found the rope where Joel said it was and dragged Link to the kitchen where he heaved him up on one of the dining chairs and tied him to it.

“You know you deserve this.” Mathias muttered whether to convince Link or himself, he didn’t know, “I’ve sat by long enough as I watched you and your brother pillage, rape, and torture to get your way. You deserve this.” He made sure to tighten the ropes.

Joel rounded the corner of his house, his eyes focused on the man who stared straight ahead. He was alert as he sat in his chair, gun held securely in his hand. Joel prepared himself for an altercation as he veered closer.

With his knife raised, Joel took one more step just as the man clocked in on his position. The large man popped up from his seat as soon as Joel embedded the knife into his shoulder. With a grunt the man charged, trying to lift his rifle to aim, but the gun was too long and Joel was too close. Joel quickly grabbed the gun as they tussled on the front porch. Thankfully the tall muscular man didn’t try to yell or scream for help. I guess he figured he could take care of Joel himself.

Oh how wrong he was…

Mathias could vaguely hear the sounds of Joel and Kent fighting outside until suddenly it was quiet. He wondered with a racing heart who had won and if he should run? If Kent had won then maybe he could play victim? Say that Joel was the one who tied Link up. Should he hurt himself too? Try to make it seem more convincing? Before he could make a decision, the front door opened and in walked Joel who dragged Kent in behind him.

“He awake yet?” Joel asked calmly as if he didn’t just kill another man.

Mathias shook his head, “No.”

Joel set the lifeless body by the other one, both in sight of where Link was knocked out. Joel didn’t have time however, to wait for Mathias to wake up. He needed to find out just where this cabin was. He had enough, lying low now that he had all the information he needed about his family.

Joel stuffed a dish towel in Link’s mouth before shoving the knife deep into his leg. That was the quickest way to wake him up.

Link woke up with a scream as he felt pain rippling from his leg and throughout his body. His head was pounding and the world seemed fuzzy, but he could make out Joel leaning over him like a monster you would tell your children about.

“You’re going to tell me how to find my girl or you’re going to end up just like your brother over there.” He pointed towards the lifeless body, Preston’s shoes barely peaking of the hallway. He took the gag from Link’s mouth.

Link raged as he struggled against his ties, now he was fully awake, “You fucker! I’ll kill you!”

“Answer.” Joel twisted the knife.

“I ain’t tellin you nothin.” Link spat with venom.

Joel glanced over to Mathias, “Get me a bucket of water and another towel.”

Link’s gaze followed Joel to Mathias who was standing in the archway, “You’re with him? After I took you in? You dirty fucking little traitor. After all I’ve done for you, I should have skinned your ass when I had the chance!”

Mathias ignored him as he went on to collect the things that Joel asked for.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me.” Joel drew his attention back to him with the twist of this knife causing Link to groan out in pain. Joel spoke slow so that every word could sink in, “I am going to drown you. It’ll be slow and it’ll be painful. Or you can tell me where my girl is. The choice is yours.”

Link glared at him as anxiety and fear rippled through his body. He could see it in his eyes that Joel’s words rang true, “I don’t know.” He stated quickly as Mathias returned.

“Well now we both know that is a lie.” Joel placed a towel over his face, “Lean the chair back.” He ordered Mathias.

“You should tell him.” Mathias suggested.

“Fuck you.” Link spat back at him.

Mathias leaned down close to his ear, “You already did that, remember? Against my will.” Link shuttered from fear at Mathias’s next words, “You deserve this.”

Mathias leaned back up and nodded towards Joel, “Do it.”

The night was long with each pour of water, with each gasp for breath. Joel felt no remorse drowning a man with no morals and no regret.

“I don’t remember!” Link gasped as soon as he was allowed breathe.

“Try again.” Joel stated before dumping water on him as he struggled for breath against the soaked towel.

“Okay!” Link gasped, “Just please. Please stop! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” Joel held out a map and a pen, “You’re going to point to where it is on the map.”

Mathias set the chair back on the ground. Link’s breath was ragged as he took the pen between his teeth and marked a spot a few hours away from Jackson. Once Joel was satisfied with that answer he glanced towards Mathias.

“He’s all yours.” Joel took a step back and motioned to the knife.

Link looked between them with wide eyes before settling on Mathias, “No. No. No. No. No. Wait. Please! Wait. I’m sorry! No! Please! Don’t!” The last words that fell from his mouth were blubbering pleas as Mathias shoved the blade deep into Link’s heart.

“Now you can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Mathias whispered as he watched the light fade from his eyes.

Mathias stood still for a moment as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. He felt numb, but he also felt free. He had a choice now as he turned to Joel.

“How old are you kid?” Joel asked as he grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table. He took a long sip as he waited for Mathias to answer.

“Nineteen.” Mathias answered as he looked away from his once abuser.

“I…” Joel’s words felt empty as he struggled to say them, “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

Mathias didn’t give him an answer and Joel understood why, “Where are we going next?” Mathias asked instead.

Joel’s eyes widened slightly from Mathias’s question. He didn’t really understand why the kid wanted to tag along with him, but he didn’t refuse. Joel set the empty bottle down before handing over Kent’s rifle, “We’re going to get my family back.”

“Okay.” Mathias nodded as he took the gun. His green eyes shined bright with determination. It was as if he finally had a true purpose now and it felt exhilarating.

#joel miller x y/n #pedro x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal #joel x reader #pedro is daddy #pedrostories #whiskeytearsseries #whiskeytears #joel miller angst #joel and ellie

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suffersinfandom · 1 year ago

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Controversial opinion (?): the Kraken Era wasn’t all that dark.

There’s a lot of meta and fic out there that portray Ed as a bloodthirsty, hyperviolent monster, and when that portrayal is challenged, the rebuttal is usually along the lines of, “I’m just doing what canon did. Did you even watch the show? It's racist, not me!”

I did watch the show, and honestly? I went in expecting far worse based on meta and fic I read during the hiatus. When I see people say they didn’t think Ed did enough to redeem himself or that he went past the point of no return, I just don’t understand.

I already went into this in my way-too-long meta about Ed and abuse, but I do think it bears repeating (in a shorter post) because it seems like Ed’s actions -- more than the actions of any other character -- are scrutinized and discussed outside of the context of a comedy about pirates. There’s tons of casual violence in Our Flag Means Death. Sometimes the violence is even funny!

So what does Ed actually do in the first episodes of season two?

We see Ed directly harm someone twice in the first two episodes: first on the wedding boat, and then when he shoots Izzy in the leg. Kind of unimpressive numbers, yeah? I'd expect more out of a heartbroken Blackbeard.

The first instance involves Ed shooting a man during a raid. That man has a sword through his chest before Ed fires, leading me to believe that Ed’s still following his season one pattern of keeping himself a step removed from murder (technically, the sword killed that guy). We also don’t see the murder happen; the man tumbles offscreen before Ed shoots. This makes the action less brutal. If the writers wanted us to be appalled by Ed’s violence, we would’ve gotten a graphic kill or several.

And the second instance is Izzy. Ed shoots Izzy in the leg after he suggests that the shitty atmosphere is because of Ed’s feelings for Stede. Hot take, maybe, but I don’t think that was entirely out of line. Ed’s feelings for Stede are not the only problem; a significant chunk of the problem is Izzy. Izzy called in the navy and led to their capture. Izzy threatened Ed back into the Blackbeard persona the last time Ed tried to talk things through, and that was without an audience of potential mutineers.

We’re also told that Ed has taken more of Izzy’s toes between seasons. This isn’t cool -- bosses definitely shouldn’t be asking for their employees’ toes -- but there is a precedent for it. In season one, Ed told Stede that he used to feed people their toes for a laugh (yuck). For a laugh. This, to me, implies that it’s not a huge deal. It’s certainly not completely unexpected pirate behavior, and it seems more lenient than a keelhauling or a whipping. I think both of those things would've felt far more gruesome and dark.

As far as violent actions go, that’s not a lot. Like, numerically.

Things get darker in S2E2 when Ed becomes increasingly desperate for someone, anyone, to send him to doggy heaven. He’s unhinged and working his way up to a murder-suicide before he’s stopped. He hacks the wheel right off of the ship and threatens to shoot the mast. He orders Archie and Jim to fight to the death. He ignores anonymous crewmembers as they’re swept overboard in the storm. This is bad! It’s self-destructive and selfish! But it's also tragic and human and understandable.

In my opinion, the worst thing Ed does in these episodes is force his crew to do violence for him -- not because it’s violence (again, they’re pirates), but because the violence hurts them. THIS is what traumatizes them. Their trauma flashbacks are scenes of them hurting others, not of Ed hurting them directly. Ed didn’t physically torture his crew (with the exception of Izzy, and that’s complicated). His crime was driving them to do one violent raid after another, killing and plundering without any joy or theatrics. Ed feels trapped in the role of Blackbeard -- the role that he’s been desperate to escape -- and, in his heartbreak, he opts to trap his crew with him.

Yes, Ed is messed up in the first two episodes of season two. I don’t blame the crew for almost killing him; it’s what needed to be done. I think that Jim, Archie, Frenchie, and Fang had every right to want Ed gone after Stede’s return.

But I don’t think that Ed was a super violent monster who tortured his crew and murdered his way through his breakup. He engages in very little onscreen violence, and the person that most of his violence is focused on -- Izzy -- is the same person who told him to be violent. I think that anyone who says that Ed’s actions in the first part of season two are extremely dark is either looking at them out of context, misremembering what actually happened and just recalling the dark tone, or working with some kind of motive.

In conclusion: Ed is a man who, at his very darkest, was still operating pretty firmly within the bounds of "stuff pirates do" (but not stuff Ed has historically done, presumably).

Also look at him. Thank you.

GIF by unearthlydust

EDIT: Read the reblogs for some amazing and more nuanced additions!

#ofmd #ofmd meta #edward teach #me typing things #idk i just keep seeing this thing?#this 'ed is irredeemable to me personally' thing #and that's fine?#hate characters if you want to?#but i don't think the kraken is all that evil #i mean i guess ed disagrees #hence the guilt and agreeing to humiliation and apologies #my poor mentally ill blorbo

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naomikozura · 6 months ago

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Playing with Fire: Chapter 1

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: Mention of illegal criminal activities, strong language, use of weapons, violence, assassination, mention of drug trade, mention of harassment, ending mentions shooting someone (let me know if I missed any!)

WC: 10K

Summary: It's been six years since you left your past life, finding your way to working with one of Gotham's most known crime lords. You have risen in the ranks but now your position and work is being threatened by the rise of a new criminal taking hits on your Boss' operations. Is this new nuisance a momentary issue or a long-term conflict?

Series Masterlist

Prologue || Chapter 2

6 Years Later

The buzzing of Gotham brought you out of your trance, the rush of cars and the blurred conversations of the people around you snapping you back to reality. You looked up from the magazine you had been staring at while you drank your coffee, the warmth of the cup burning your hand that you had to wipe it against your pants to lessen the burn. Your eyes focused on the big print on the stack of papers.

The Dark Knight Saves the City From Chaos Once Again.

Saving the city. This city was far from being saved, and yet people believed Batman fixed everything that was wrong with this place. It’s been six years and the pain still felt fresh. You ignored the burning in your chest from the resentment and turned to look out the window. It was raining, the streets covered in water and filled with people going about their days while trying not to get soaked. You closed the book you had in front of you before throwing away your coffee, pushing through the door as the rain started to downpour even more. You decided against the umbrella, you didn’t mind the rain on your body but your apartment was a close walk away. Close to the corporate offices of Gotham, but far away enough that you could easily sneak into the darkest corners of the city, the parts of the city that were filled with criminals, street dealers, and the underground informants.

This side of the city could possibly be the worst possible place for anyone to be, but you weren’t worried about getting caught in anything that could harm you. With your position, you were practically untouchable.

You pushed the door to your apartment open, throwing your bag on the brown coffee table and kicking off your shoes. The apartment wasn’t anything crazy, it was a simple one bedroom that gave you somewhere to live and spend your days off at. It was more than enough for just you. You walked over to the small living room, turning on the TV to have some background noise as you turned back to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

The news reporters scripted another story about the crime rates dropping and dramatically pushing the vigilante stories for years, only specific names standing out to the general public, especially the Dark Knight himself. You found yourself annoyed by the constant stories about the man, but you had to hand it to him, he was doing what no one else could and for that you had to commend him. Though, you’d never say that outloud considering your position. Saying something like commending the Batman in front of your boss would get you killed. Tortured even.

You had to play the game, deal your hand correctly in order to survive. And for the past 6 years that’s exactly what you did. You trained, became smarter, more skilled, more manipulative, more strategic and calculated. Everything you did was to survive. Your loyalties to no one but yourself and the man that took you off the street when he saw your potential. You owed it all to him. Afterall, he was the reason you had some sort of freedom and rights in the underground. Working with men like him, people like him, made living in Gotham tolerable.

You had protection, a stable income, respect from the underground workers, and a hand in every meeting and operation your boss ran. You had quickly become his right hand woman, it gained you a lot of respect from his partners while many others despised that a kingpin could let a woman rise in the ranks so easily and be influenced. Some questioned the integrity of your upbringing and loyalty, suspecting that you manipulated or seduced the man, but both you and your boss knew you didn’t need to manipulate him to prove you were a genius, skilled and talented in the art of deception, technological systems, and most importantly: killing people.

You gazed over to the clock on the counter, the time having slipped from you as you turned off the TV, heading to your bathroom to change into your night attire. You pulled out a pair of leather shorts, lifting them as they hit your waist and pulling on a tight fitting white shirt that showed off the tone of your stomach. You quickly pulled on your black combat boots before tugging on the black leather jacket hanging from the coat rack by the door. You liked to dress in dark clothing, helped keep the mystery alive and gave you more confidence to reject disgusting men if they tried to get near you.

You found your way out the window, dropping down into the back alley that led over to the east-side of town, making sure you had your gun strapped to your side under the jacket, your collapsed bow staff in the hidden compartment of your belt and your dagger in the sheath on your thigh. Even with your protection, you stayed prepared, afterall you were still a woman in a crime ridden city where you worked for one of the kingpins of the underground. Anyone could target you at any given second. You getting to the Boss alive was important, but staying alive through all the jobs he had you do was even more dire.

You reached the dark building, the blue lights illuminating the outside as you walked in through the secret entrance behind the building. Only the closest workers to the Boss knew about it and even then you needed access in. Luckily for you, you had access to everything having to do with the Boss, even his own personal records and will.

You let the music vibrate all around you, the smell of alcohol and smoke filling the air as you try to move through the hallways of the nightclub. Once you reached the far side of the room, you wandered up the staircase, following the long set of stairs up to the room hidden at the top of the building. You waited patiently before looking and seeing the guards as they opened the door for you, the dim light inside welcoming you as you stepped through the door, the guards closing it and remaining outside as you walked over to the circle of couches that were organized meeting style.

Boss sat in one chair while he had a guest sitting across from him. An ugly, charred looking man who was no stranger to you, but you remained distant for a reason. The Boss didn’t know of your resentment, that was better kept for yourself. Better to keep your enemies far away, especially when it comes to the crime lords of Gotham.

“Y/n”, Boss called out your name, your eyes meeting him as he raised a hand, a glass of whiskey in it as he motioned towards you then took a sip. “Come sit.”

“I wasn’t interrupting was I?”, you asked as you made your way around the sitting area, the Boss sitting in the middle of the couch while you sat on the arm right next to him, your body in a neutral stance. Relaxed but ready to move if need be. You always had to stay prepared no matter how trustworthy someone might seem.

You watched as the man in front of you stared at you, not hiding the obvious skim he did over your body before meeting your narrowed eyes. Disgust filled you and you could tell the son of a bitch took it as a gamble, a sign to ask your Boss in the cockiest tone for your time.

“How much to have her keep me company for the night?”, he asked as he took a drag of his cigar.

“She doesn’t do private sessions or take clients.”, Boss pressed, his voice friendly but had an edge, signaling for the man to not push him on the topic. You watched as the man, who was dressed perfectly in a suit, focused on you. Your eyes locked in a glare off, something you were used to doing with the filthy men of Gotham.

This man, though, was the opposite of filthy.

He was rich, coordinated, a businessman, and he’d have brainless women throwing themselves at him but you knew the game. You’d rather cut out your tongue than let someone like him get near you.

“I’ll give you triple the price that you’d charge for any other one of the girls here. I’m sure she’d like a good paycheck.”, his voice filled with an edge, a desire that made you revolt. You were surprised he didn’t recognize you, then again, it’d been 4 years.

“She doesn’t do private sessions. Put some respect on her. Ask again and our meeting will have been for nothing. The boys can show you the way out, Sionis”, Boss stood, shaking his hand as the man stayed focused on you. His eyes dark before we turned and said his goodbyes and left the room.

You watched as the Boss picked up a folder, opening it and letting the contents spread out on the table. You leaned forward, soaking in the photos and papers that were laid out.

“Who was he?”, you asked even though you were no stranger to the man, keeping appearances as you skimmed through the images and articles.

“Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, came in with a proposition for a new street rat that’s been making hits on his drug trade. Asking to combine men to take him out, asking for a $500,000 bond on his head.”. Of course the name sounded familiar, you’ve heard Black Mask’s name in meetings and throughout the city, but meeting him in this lifetime was a first. You looked at the Boss, wondering who could possibly be trying to get in on the drug trades that have already been pre-established in the city. They couldn’t be so dumb as to get mixed in with the men that lived in the underground of Gotham, the men who ran the streets with fear and power.

“How do you think Two-Face will do with this? Do you think he might ask us not to help Black Mask?”, the Boss turned to you before stretching his hand out, handing you a small stack of photos..

“Depends, he might tell us to help, especially since it seems this rat is trying to get involved with Carmine’s ring, already busted two sites in up-town.”, you hummed in response. You looked through the stack, taking in the images.

Two Face and Black Mask were on opposite ends of the crime grade, but kept neutral grounds because of their alliance with your boss: Penguin. Penguin was a businessman, used for everything having to do with organized crime in Gotham. If you needed someone with a hand in Gotham’s business, Penguin was the guy. It seemed since this new nuisance had surfaced, the big names were coming together to try and wipe him out. It would be the first time in years since the high profile crime lords called a ceasefire.

The images were of all the operations that had been busted, blood all over the ground, bodies hanging from ceilings or decapitated on the ground. There were other photos showing missing cargo, hostages, and the papers on the table were full reports of every incident from the past three weeks. Who could possibly have the guts to do something at this caliber?

Who would possibly have the guts to target the crime lords of Gotham so casually?

“Do you need me to investigate?”, you asked, selfishly wanting to know more about who this mystery person could be. Why were they doing all of this?

“For the time being, no. If anything comes up or the situation gets worse you know you’ll be the first one contacted.” he motioned as you nodded once then stood, walking over to the cabinet he’d just pointed at.

You pulled out a package, handing it to him as he opened it and pulled five stacks of bills out and passed them to you.

“Your cut for last week”

You skimmed through it quickly, counting the money in your head. $15,000. As promised.

The upside of working in organized crime within the underground was the pay. You worked one or two jobs a week and you got 4 months rent in a night. High risk, high reward.

You stashed the money in your jacket, securing them on the inside to ensure you’d be able to put them in your safe back home once you left the Lounge.

You stayed around to help Penguin with some admin work, getting a few hours into the night before deciding to go home. You gathered your things as you stepped out through the hidden entrance, your senses going off as you looked around.

Someone was watching you.

You pulled out your gun, holding it in your hand as you moved through the streets, examining every corner above your head and below you once you reached the roof of one of the buildings. The roof was empty, everything around you as though it had been left abandoned.

You walked over to the ledge, noticing a small piece of fabric, a fresh scent lingered in the air. A musky type of cologne you’d assume.

Whoever was here was gone.

But why they were watching you was your main concern.

You turned, heading back towards your apartment, the mystery person still fresh on your mind as you settled in for the night.

“Penguin”, Black Mask started out, putting out the ash of his cigarette in the tray, “How are we going to handle this street rat? He’s starting to destroy the outer locations of our operations.”

The Boss looked over at Sionis, pulling up the papers of the file he was given a few weeks ago. You looked over at Falcone, who kept looking at your movements but looked away when he saw you draw your attention to his intrusive eyes. You felt your body move closer behind Penguin, knowing if something happened he would step in. Boss looked at you and handed you a key from his pocket.

“Y/n, can you grab the black packet in the office?”, you took the key from him and walked towards his office that was just across the room. As you walked by the three men, you felt Sionis staring at your legs, your outfit more revealing than usual, just spandex shorts and a crop top, but nothing too out there. You knew your legs were toned and drew the attention of men all the time, that’s how you were able to draw them in so easily, men were easy to fall victim to your charm.

You unlocked the drawer on the desk and pulled out the packet that the Boss told you to grab. You walked back out and handed over the packet. Penguin opened it and pulled out the contents. It was a few photos and a document holding information on the suspect of the crimes being held against the drug ring in Gotham.

You saw the photos, the frame showing a man with a muscular build wearing a red helmet, his body covered in what you recognized as Kevlar plates. At least he’s smart enough to know to wear some protective material with half the criminals in Gotham looking for him for the delicious bond prize. “He goes by the Red Hood, he’s only been around for a few months, just started hitting the ring a few weeks ago. My guess is to work his way up from the bottom by getting at the heaviest hitters.”

Both Carmine and Sionis looked at the photos of the new vigilante running loose on the streets. You heard Sionis slam his fist on the table in front of him, shattering his glass full of scotch due to the impact. “I want his head on a fucking platter!”, he yelled, the anger eating him from the inside out. You watched his outburst carefully, ready to exit the room if the situation called for it. You have been in these types of meetings long enough to know when to exit and when to stay. The Boss only trusted you to be present during these types of things, especially when it came to meetings with his VIPs.

Carmine took a deep breath and stood up, buttoning the middle of his suit, “I want to know what exactly this man has in mind for trying to get in on our operations, I’ll hire my own private investigator to get more on this.. Red Hood character. In the meantime, if anything more progresses, I want to know.”, and with that he excused himself and was led out the side of the building by the two guards at the door.

Sionis stayed a moment longer, his hand having glass in it, but no serious amounts of blood coming out. He stood and wiped his hand, picking out the shards like it was nothing before he flipped the table over and breaking everything in the process. “I want this guy dead. Not shot dead or stabbed, I mean tortured, murdered, his head on my desk type of murdered, you hear me Cobblepot!”, you quickly moved forward, your small hand held in frame, aiming at the center of his head.

“Show some respect..” you said slowly, your tone laced with warning. You could handle a lot, but violent outbursts where the situation didn’t call for it irked you. Grown men needed to get some sense of control. Sionis looked at you, his eyes narrowing and you never breaking contact.

He just laughed before raising his hands up, “I apologize. Penguin. I want his head on my desk.”, he kept staring at you, his eyes trailing down your neck and chest, your arms still in position, the muscle noticeable due to your constant work out schedule.

Sionis walked by, stopped just in time to whisper in your ear, “I look forward to spending more time with you”, and he excused himself and left. Your arms to your side, uncocking the gun and turning back to Penguin.

“You don’t need to be so assertive.”, you looked at him before placing the gun on the back of your shorts. “He needs to know his boundaries. He can’t act like a fucking child in a meeting asking for your connections” You grabbed the tray off the table and took it back to the other room. “Take the night off, you haven’t taken off in almost three months.”

“You don’t need me for anything?”, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not tonight. Once we get a better idea on what we’re dealing with, I’ll send you to do your own search.” You nodded at him as you watched him walk into the office, pulling on your leather jacket, grabbing your money, and heading back to your apartment for the night.

Red Hood.

You let out a laugh under your breath.

What an idiot.

Two weeks later

It was chilly tonight, the perfect night for you to get in field training since Penguin had given you the night off. You hadn’t gone through the city in weeks so the change of pace was nice. You hated not being able to get exercise and train in the field since that’s where the majority of your jobs took place. Scoping out the land, dropping in from roof tops, or running away from people chasing you to get back what you’ve stolen. It was nice to get out and run through the streets and rooftops of Gotham for once.

You launched yourself across the air, letting your body land perfectly on one of the rooftops before you headed towards the other edge of the building, heading towards where one of the major museums were, scoping out to see if there was anything that caught your eye enough to go in and intervene or get some action. You were about to push yourself off the ledge before you felt a crashing weight ram into you like a bull.

You felt your body go flying and skid on the roof, your arm getting scraped up as you tried to focus yourself.

What the hell?

You looked up, your eyebrows rising in shock as you tried to get your footing, pushing yourself back as the monster of a man kept aiming kicks at you. You finally got your footing, barely dodging the heavy, black boot that came swinging at your face. You launched yourself over the person attacking you, running to the other side of the building and jumping to the other one across the street.

Your biggest mistake was looking behind you to see if you lost him because you ended up being met with the body of a bull chasing after you.

Fuck! What’s this guy’s problem?

You decided you needed to attack, running was only going to make things worse or get you stuck in trouble. You turned, taking out your dagger and started trying to get at him, his body movements quick and calculated. For such a big guy, he was almost a little too fast. You watched as his arms tried to get you in a chokehold, twisting your body to ensure he couldn’t grab you.

“Hey! What the hell is your problem?!”, you yelled as he continued trying to reach you, your dagger grazing his arm, cutting through his kevlar plates before you jumped, only to feel his hand wrap around your ankle and slam you into the ground, your dagger falling out of your hand as you tried to get yourself back up. You looked at the man, he was huge. Tall, muscular, but as he stepped into the light you felt yourself freeze for a moment.

Red Hood.

He didn’t answer, but you needed to create some distance. You needed to find an opening.

“Who are you anyway? I’ve been hearing a lot about this infamous new rat running around Gotham, care to show me what the fuss is all about?”, you stood meters away from him, ready to lunge if needed. You watched as the deep red reflected from his helmet under the lights that lit the rooftop with a yellow cast. “Turns out I might be disappointed”.

There was a long pause, before you noticed he stopped moving, holding distance as he stayed focused on you, ready to attack if needed. When he spoke, it surprised you.

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you sweetheart.”, his voice rang out, distorted by the voice transmitter in his helmet. “The little errand girl that works under Penguin, does his dirty work while he sits on his ass all day cooped up in that piss poor club he calls a hide out.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure of what to say or do. You saw his file, he was dangerous, smart, fast, and everything in between that you could possibly think of. He was a walking human weapon, the way his body was built, the weaponry he had, the way you couldn’t catch his next move.

“What’s a lowlife like you doing trying to make deals with the street dealers of this city? Can’t take down the big guys so you go after the bottom-feeders?”, you taunted, needing to find a way to get him off his game. You were at a disadvantage, you didn’t think you’d be in hand to hand combat with the most wanted vigilante in Gotham, your only weapon now was your gun. You had your hand ready to take it out at any second.

“Oh trust me, I’ll get to the big guys soon enough.”, you glared at him, noticing his stance. You quickly pulled out your gun, cocking it as he held his own aimed at you. You flickered your eyes down at his foot, noticing the twitch before he lunged forward, giving you a split second to move out of his way. You kicked him in the back, forcing yourself over him in order to place more space between the two of you.

You shot your gun at him, his body turning as the bullet grazed his shoulder and you heard the sound of his own pistol discarding the bullets in its case. Your feet moving quickly, the bullets barely missing you as you ran toward him. You quickly tried to make a run for the ledge, only for a strong hand to grab your wrist and twist it behind your back, keeping you stuck in place before you could make your escape.

“Tell the fat bird to get his men ready, don’t leave me waiting.”, the deepness of his voice rang through your ear, his body pressed behind yours as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

His grip released, his slip from the roof almost too fast for you to turn and try and fight him. You let out a heavy breath, fixing your clothes and placing your gun back in your waistband.

You quickly gained your composure, forcing away the shock before you ran through the streets of the city. You needed to warn Penguin. You didn’t care about the risk you were taking running through the streets so exposed but notifying Penguin was priority one.

You reached the abandoned alley where you stashed your bike, kicking your leg over it and driving down through the streets of Gotham like crazy until you reached the Lounge. You pushed the door open as you acknowledged Black Mask and his men. Black Mask had reached out to Penguin about the new arising problem overtaking Gotham’s crime lords, stealing his territory right from under him like it was child’s play.

“I have some intel.”, you breathed, every head in the room turning as you spoke. “He’s in our borders.”

“The Red Hood?!”, Black Mask’s voice boomed through the room as you stepped back, not knowing if this was his name. You just knew about the previous holders of the name, the identity dying out around the same time the Joker went back to Arkham.

“I saw him. The .. Red Hood.”, the name rolled off the tongue almost too smoothly, still leaving an ill taste in your mouth. “He attacked me while I was on patrol, told me to tell you to prepare your men and…to not leave him waiting.”

“Who does this piece of shit think he is?!”, Black Mask was overflowing with rage, he’d already faced 3 hits on his trades, he’d surely lose it if he got another.

“Then, I guess we’ll have to wait and see where he strikes.”, Penguin voiced calmly. “If he wants our attention, then he’ll get it soon enough.”

You stared at him, unsure of his decision but didn’t question it. “What if he does more damage?”

“That’s where you’ll come in. I want you to find this rat, track his every move and report back to us. No one is better at this job than you.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”, you nodded to him, accepting his task as he turned towards Black Mask, trying to establish a framework to track, lure, and catch the Red Hood.

You felt a sense of adrenaline through you, knowing this could possibly be the biggest job you’ve had yet. You’d been working with Penguin for the past five years, slowly gaining his trust and proving yourself to him a little at a time. You might’ve been doubted by every other high ranking mobster and crime lord in the underground, but having Penguin vouch for you led to many others wanting you to work for them, wanting to acquire your level of expertise.

You watched as Black Mask stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he dipped his head slightly at you to signal a goodbye. As much as you disliked the man, he had been more laid back than usual which was strange but you didn’t begin to question the reasoning behind why. You waited until the door closed before redirecting yourself to Penguin.

“Boss.”, you paused, watching as he turned to look at you. “Are you sure about this?”

“(Y/n), you’ve proven yourself many times to me, I have no doubt in your capabilities.”, He was right, your skills and success rate made you undeniably good at what you did. No one ever questioned your methods, your skills, you had enough credibility that anyone who wanted to question your work were quickly met with looks or whispers of disappointment. You have solidified yourself as one of Penguin’s best workers, your reputation impeccable.

Even so, the task of going after Red Hood threw you off.

Maybe it was his quick rise through the rings in the underground, maybe it was his high profile, maybe it was the way he knew who you were even though he’d never met you before.

Everyone in Gotham who was remotely close to Black Mask and Penguin’s power bracket was after him, especially Black Mask. You could already imagine the type of press it would bring in for you if you took down the infamous new vigilante breaking apart the crime rings and reestablishing them as his own.

You shook the thoughts, hardening your resolve.

You needed to find and lure in the Red Hood, even if it meant killing him. The bond on his head would be more than enough to leave Gotham forever.

Guess Red Hood’s my ticket out of this hell hole.

The next few days seemed to drag on, you spent most of your time using your sources to get more information on Red Hood. You went through every security footage within every major territory, dipped into police records, planting information in order to gain insight in other rings. You even planted recording devices throughout many of the hidden meeting places throughout the city and every outlier neighborhood that could be connected back to the crime rings in the city.

You had three leads, three possible ins that could lead you to find the Red Hood and his next target for a bust. You noticed how he was already starting to pick up traction, apparently holding an anonymous meeting with some of Black Mask’s outer connections, giving them a duffel bag full of decapitated heads of some of the main operators. They quickly fed into the funnel of giving Red Hood a cut of the profits. You realized then that that was when Sionis had contacted the Boss and offered a partnership in the process.

Leading to now.

You sat in front of your computer with all the records and reports in front of you, security footage and photo stills of him all over the city. You realized his two favorite weapons to use were an AK-47 and Jericho 941’s. He liked to use his little Scorpion Evo 3 A1 if we wanted to be theatrical but he rarely reached for it. You found shell casings of his 941 around some docks, the .40 S&W casing by where the dock ended. A single shot.

He likely shot once and let whoever it was float in the lake until someone dug them out.

And you were right.

Black Mask’s main operant had been found shot and killed by the docks.

One bullet to the head.

Courtesy of the red hooded vigilante.

You narrowed your eyes, watching the screen as you decided to follow up on your first lead. Another meeting by an abandoned warehouse about 45 minutes outside the city. If you left now you would be able to make it in time to get in on the trade, see if it was a good lead to follow up on and if it was, then you were one step closer to getting in touch with the Red Hood.

You quickly changed, putting on a pair of cargo pants and lacing up your combat boots, throwing on a long sleeve fitted shirt and pulling on your leather jacket. You grabbed your goggles off the counter, knowing they’d be helpful for infrared and night vision since the trade would be happening around 2am. Stealth was of importance. If you got caught the entire thing would go to shit, you would lose your lead and tip off the very person you were looking for. You always needed to be careful even if you knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t be there. You had to treat every situation like he would be present. You’d be able to catch him faster that way.

You pulled your mask up over your nose, pulling the hood of your shirt over your head before jumping out of your apartment window and into the alley where you had your bike hidden. You strapped your guns to your holsters, ensuring they were secure and your daggers were accounted for before you turned on the motor and sped through the street to the isolated location.

You left your bike off to the side, hiding it somewhere you could easily get to in case of any emergency. This lead wasn’t just to see if the Red Hood would appear, it was also a job Penguin had asked you to look into. Black Mask had requested a deep search of his suppliers to see who was slipping money and information to the Red Hood under the table and so you were put to the task and turns out the supplier you were after was that loose end. Two birds, one stone.

You watched as the supplier and his men were moving cargo boxes of illegal weapons, the kind you’d only find on the black market and could only inquire through the illegal trades within the underground. A group of men loaded everything into a line of trucks, two of them directing everyone while shouting the deadline for shipment, rushing the workers.

You used your goggles to zoom into the field, taking out a small dart gun you had to send a small transmitter to the inside of one of the trucks so you could get a better listen.

“Hurry up! If we aren’t on time with this shipment we don’t get our money!”, one of them yelled. He was muscular, tall, but not the man you were looking for.

“We’ll make it, don’t worry. The Hood’s gonna get our payment. The shipment won’t be delayed.”

You scoffed at the mention of Red, annoyed that he had these fools believing it was worth betraying Black Mask just to dip into Red Hood’s protection.

The final trucks loaded with all the weapons inside, taking note of the time as they would head out soon. You moved closer to the door, following behind two of the shipment trucks as they pulled out of the warehouse. You planted a small tracker on the truck before silently moving back towards your motorcycle, following closely behind as the trucks went off through the secluded streets. The darkness and bareness of the roads make it easy to get through without being detected by any of the underground criminals or any of Gotham’s Police Force.

The trucks turned into a dark alley, your bike merging down the street to avoid being seen as you noticed they were heading towards a shipment dock. You stayed a good distance, knowing your destination was only a few meters ahead. Just as you managed to turn into the road, the crashing sound of metal scraping on asphalt and the dirt mixing into the air filled your senses. Your ears rang as you felt your arm burn from the road tearing into your skin. Blood dripped from your forehead, your arm burning from the sensation of raw flesh being ripped open.

You lifted your body, struggling to focus as you turned to look at the very person you were here for.

“Well, fancy seeing you here sweetheart.”, that distorted voice rang out as you stayed focused on him, your hand ready to reach for your pistol if necessary. “Did you come out here to find me?”

You tried to force your body off the ground, only to be met with the heavy weight of his combat boot kicking into your gut at full force, shoving you to the ground with another kick to your back. Your body twitched from the sudden impact but you quickly rolled out of the way, leaning on your arms as you pulled out your gun and aimed it at him.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?”, he mocked, his muscular and ominous form standing over you like a predator ready to devour his prey. You were not this fucker’s prey. You were the hunter and he needed to be hunted.

“Want to take your chances and find out?”, you spat back.

“You sure have a smart mouth for someone at a disadvantage”

“What makes you think I’m at a disadvantage, asshole?”, you narrowed your eyes, daggers digging into him as you rose from the ground, your gun still pointed to the middle spot on his head.

One shot.

That's all it would take to take him down.

He walked over to you with a swiftness, your body twisting as you tried to get out of his grasp and pushed yourself back but his brute force swallowed the space between you as he snapped his hand around the collar, bringing your face close to his as the red glow of his helmet illuminated under the moonlight. It gave him a murderous glow.

“Go home to master before I send you back in a body bag”, his threat was serious, you knew he was serious. He had decapitated 5 people in the span of a few hours. You knew he’d gladly send you back to Penguin dead just to send a message.

You stared at him, jaw clenched as you felt the anger radiating off his body. You couldn’t see his face but you could tell you were the absolute last thing we wanted to deal with tonight.

“Too bad I don’t listen to wannabe crime lords. My connections come in high places.”, you spit out as he forced himself into your space.

“Your connections wont do anything for you once I snap your neck in half, so I suggest you stop with the smartass comments before I go ahead and send you back one limb at a time.”

You laughed at his comment. He was dangerous, lethal, could snap your neck in a second and you just laughed at him.

“Why do you care so much about Black Mask’s crime ring? What do you have to gain from any of this?”

“Revenge. Payback. Pest control.” he warned. “The more of these lowlives I get rid of, the better, the faster I get my message to that psychopath the better. Even if it means chopping you up into pieces to get my message back to that fat pig”

You had enough of his empty threat. Three times and he still talks in circles. You quickly twisted your body, using your taser to shock him into letting you go and moving your body to land a hit to his stomach and another to his chest. Those kevlar plates were going to be the death of you. You needed to find an opening, anything to just draw some blood. You could get a sample and expose his identity in a few hours.

He turned towards you, his body upright as he pulled out a serrated knife, ready to tear through flesh and rip you to shreds. His stance was guarded, ready to attack but the distance never closed.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why it’s you he sends out to do his dirty work?”, taunting you seemed to be his favorite method to try and get a rise out of you. “It’s because he doesn’t care about you. You’re replaceable, if you fail he can find someone else, you’re just another piece of shit lowlife who is being used to do the dirty work of the biggest kingpins in Gotham”,

You narrowed your eyes at him, calculating your next move by observing your surroundings a little at a time, not letting him have the first move.

“You think you’re special because you get to sit in on his little meetings? Because he pays you more? Trust me sweetheart, you’re anything but special. You mean just as much to him as the rats to run around in the sewers, you’re nothing.”

“You don’t know shit.”, you barked back, watching as he ran towards you and aimed his knife at you, the blade missing as you continued to move around, landing a few punches and kicks to his body, failing to slow him down.

You focused on knocking the knife out of his hand, but his body was quick, almost super human. You were fast, but he seemed calculative, like he knew your next move even before you did. You lifted your leg to kick at him, his body moving as you continued to lunge at him and grab his knife. He pushed himself back, crossing his arms to block the full force hit you tried to deliver. You managed to close the gap, reaching to his belt as you felt the blade rid through your arm.

You let out a grunt of pain, a second to recoil from the knife tearing through your flesh was all he needed to get you off guard. He shot his arm forward, tightening around your neck almost crushing your windpipe. You tried to force yourself out of his grasp but his grip tightened with every movement. He was suffocating you.

“Let’s see that face of yours”, he breathed before he grabbed the edge of your mask and ripping it off your face, revealing your face to him fully, red and sweaty from the fight you two just had. “Well, at least you’re easy on the eyes”, the humor in his voice angering you.

“Go to hell..”, you struggled against his grip, feeling yourself lose oxygen again.

“Sweetheart, we’re already there.”

You were not about to get choked out by this son of a bitch twice in a row. You struggled agaisnt him, stopping when you heard the sound of nearby vehicles, the red and blue lights passing by down the street.

It was Gotham PD.

You took the split second of his hesitation to break from his grip, your body tumbling slightly from the lack of oxygen before you ran to your bike that had skidded only a few feet away. You quickly turned it on, pressing down on the gas, hoping to get away but when you turned around you could see him only a few meters behind you.

That fucker.

You turned down an alley before breaking through the window of an abandoned building, riding through it to the other side to get him off your trail. You needed to get rid of the loose end before you went home for the night. It was the only chance you had to get the money he promised you.

The lights passed with every second, your gut instinct telling you to go down a dark alley. Once you turned, you heard Red’s bike go down a different alley, getting him off your trail for a split second. You pulled over to the path that led to the meeting area, abandoning your bike and climbing to the roof of the building across from the site. Far enough to not be seen, close enough to make the shot.

You waited, noticing the men unloading the weaponry into the truck on the other side of the walk way. there.

You watched silently from the room, watching as Black Mask’s traitor was talking to one of Red Hood’s partners. You recognized him from your background search, he had switched out of Carmine’s ring and started working under the Red Hood when he heard about the decapitation debacle. He didn’t want to be another dead body so instead he switched sides.

You watched through your goggles, noticing the case. Probably over $100,000. Enough money to lock away and never have to come back to Gotham. One could only dream.

You pulled out the sniper you had hidden away for trades like this. You had your own weapons hidden around Gotham for your night jobs. Only in places you could find. You aimed from the roof, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot. You only needed to get rid of the traitor, Red’s little buyer could live another day to warn his boss.

You waited as the men turned away, your finger on the trigger waiting for the buyer to turn back towards the trucks. Just a few more feet. You felt your finger flex, you controlled your breathing, steadied yourself, and pressed the trigger. You saw his body go down. You quickly pulled away as you saw the men rush to the dead body. You quickly hid the sniper back between the boxes and ran to the other side of the building, jumping to the roof across and sliding down into the alley way.

You felt your heart racing as the shouts behind you slowly started to fade and kept running until you found the alley where you had left your motorcycle. You hopped on and sped away from the scene, trying to reach the lounge to let the penguin know that the job was done.

You headed towards the nearby bridge as a shortcut, only to hear a slight beeping below you. You screeched to a halt, leaning over to examine your bike to be met with a flashing red light.

Mother fucker.

You grabbed the tracker, pulling it off and crushing it under your boot. the annoyance eating you alive festered until you needed to punch something. You didn’t have time for this shit. You triple tapped the small transmitter on your wrist. A small signal letting the penguin know your job was complete. You looked behind you, feeling the sense of someone watching, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You got a small transmission back, Penguin confirmed.

You hummed softly, turning back towards the road and heading back home.

One Week Later

“This brat has gotten two, TWO, of my operations shut down and I am losing money, Penguin! We need to get his pretty little body off the streets and in my trophy case or I will burn this entire city down.”, Roman had anger issues, severe anger issues, and he had no intent of trying to hide that fact. You tried to ignore him as you placed the last of the money in the bag and handed it back to Penguin, telling him the $50,000 count inside and he gave you $20,000 of what was inside. You grabbed the two bands and placed them inside your jacket before walking to the other room to grab the men a drink.

You grabbed the top shelf scotch, bringing it back over and pouring the amber liquid into both of their glasses. You bent over and placed the glass down in front of Sionis, who looked at you with lustful eyes, and you returned his gaze, only you were glaring daggers at him. Silently he grabbed the glass before shooting it back and pouring some more. You couldn’t help but feel revolted by him, but you walked out of the room in slow strides, your hips moving side to side, already knowing that he was staring.

“We need more patrols, more people out on the field. Whatever it takes to get this fucker off our shipments!”, Sionis growled as he slammed his amber glass down on the table in front of him. Penguin looked at him with an annoyed look, his body language tired of Black Mask’s antics.

“We’ll get the men we need, and I think we need to be more strategic than strength.”

You crossed your legs as you looked over Penguin’s shoulder. He had a folder with the name of one of the current operations on it. The kryptonite shipment. You’d heard Sionis and some of his partners talking about this multi-million dollar shipment.

“If he gets in on this, I am gonna kill somebody. I don't care who.”, Black Mask grabbed the file and tucked it inside his suit pocket before heading towards the back door and leaving.

“You know he’ll find a way to get in on that shipment, right?”, you muttered. Penguin stood, walking over to the office drawers and pulling out a small sheet of paper. He looked it over before walking back and giving it to you.

“I don’t think he will.”, he smirked as your face contorted into shock as you read the paper's contents.

“He.. How?”, the question left almost pleasingly. Penguin was spinning the small dial on the safe in the office, listening to each click as he put in the combination.

“We found friends on the inside, it wasn't difficult to contact him and he’ll get back to us shortly.”, he pulled out a package, handing it to you as you opened it and examined the contents.

You eyebrows furrowed at the information.

“What’s this?”, you question.

“His name is Calvi Calbera”, Penguin motioned. “He’s a luxury goods trader and has a hand in not only the black market but up scale Gotham trades too. He gets a lot of money from those luxury stores and rich clients from the upper city”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I want you to convince him that having ties with me is beneficial. We get more streams of income from Upper Gotham, he gets business trade and protection. He’s stubborn, but this is his file. You can tail him as long as you need to do what you can”

“Is this related back to the Red Hood?”

“This has nothing to do with him. Consider it a side job I want you to do.”

“What if he already has protection and a business partnership?”, you quickly mentioned as you continued reading his file.

He had some of the most expensive, luxury jewels under his name. Million dollar jewels. He was also a dangerous card to have in your hand, he had underground connections. This would be a great way to get the money you needed to disappear.

“That’s what I’m worried about, but I trust you’ll find a way to convince him?”

“I can do my best”, you nodded at him. “Is there a timeline for this?”

Penguin shook his head, pouring himself another glass to drink. “No, I just want to have him on our list of ties, so take however long you need.”

You nodded again, shoving everything into the file neatly before tucking it into the inside pocket of your jacket. Watching as he disappeared into the office. It was still early, only around 2am. You went to the back and organized a few documents Penguin had received from Black Mask, looking through them and gaining more insight of the entire situation with Red Hood as a whole.

Damn.

He really had busted through two of Black Mask’s operations, killed more than 13 of his men, stole more than 20 of his workers, and burned down two of his warehouses. Carmine was also getting hits on his operations. 20 men killed, 15 workers taken, loss of $50k in profits.

You skimmed through some of the papers in another cabinet, pulling out everything on Penguin’s partners, their ties and where they’ve had losses.

Red Hood really was doing a number on these organized crime rings. Dipped his foot into each one and stole men, territory, and money. It surprised you how much ground he’d covered since he came out of nowhere.

You finished looking at the files, placing them back neatly in the filing cabinet and headed to your small locker holding your personal belongings. Just as you were about to close the small door you heard a shuffling sound from Penguin’s office. Your senses on high alert.

You grabbed the door handle, lightly turning it before pushing the door in and seeing the Boss being held at gunpoint. Your blood boiled at the sight.

This piece of…

“Well, how unexpected”, Red voiced out, humor in his voice. How did this man get in the hidden lounge area?!

“Y/n. Come in. Come meet our… guest.”, he said nonchalantly, your eyes focused on him as you burned with annoyance. He couldn’t just leave you alone and stay on his side of things. What a fucking nuisance.

You watched as Red focused on you, his gun still pointed as Penguin sat in his chair. You flickered your gaze to Penguin quickly before looking back at Red, noticing how he walked towards you. He towered over you, his muscular build guarded in kevlar made him seem bigger but you knew he was strong. You’d gone head to head with him twice already. He was a powerhouse of a man.

You moved back slightly when his hand rose, pushing a piece of hair out of your face. You didn’t break eye contact, you needed him to know you wouldn’t back down from him and the possibility of him harming your Boss. You looked over to Penguin, giving you a look, blinking twice, and said nothing.

A simple signal, but one that let you know he had already alerted the guards. You looked at the masked man, before he turned to the Boss and spoke out.

“She’s a pretty one, Penguin.”

This motherfucker. Pulling this shit again.

You thought silently, before standing up and turning towards the door, the Red Hood looked at you intently.

“Don’t move.”, you heard a gun cocking and stopped. You already knew he had his handgun pointed at you. Your intuition alerting you to move out of the way, especially since you knew the guards would be here in less than ten seconds.

You turned to look at the Red Hood, his gun pointed at you while he had the other pointed at Penguin. you heard the click to the door, and you were sure he didn’t hear it.

In one fluid motion you pulled out your gun and shot at him, which missed and he shot back at you but you had jumped out of the way and the guards came in, blocking the exit. He shot at the both of them and they pulled their own pistols out. The room was big enough for the four of them to face off, but Red jumped over the two of them. Running out the door and closing it behind him.

He ran past you, and you saw him go out through the side door, and you pushed yourself off the ground and ran towards the door. You ran behind him, placing your gun on the inside of your shorts, seeing the man run and turn around to glance at you. You weren’t too far behind him, your stamina good enough to keep up, but not sure if you’d be able to stop him without the use of your gun.

He ran through the hallway but ignored the stairs leading outside but took the ladder out the window to the roof. You saw him jump through the window of the second story and cling to the ladder, you jumped out and grabbed the side, slipping a little, and holstered yourself up. You both reach the roof and you were able to pull out your gun and shoot at his feet, making his trip just a little bit enough for you to catch up and push your leg through his and trip him over completely.

He rolled on the ground and you pushed yourself on him. Your leg on his chest and your gun pointing at him. You heard him groan before he looked up at you.

“You’re pretty fast, sweetheart. You sure you know how to use that thing?”, his voice was deep, you could tell even through the voice changer. You cocked an eyebrow at him before scoffing.

“Do you want to find out?”, you answered back. You could hear the guards yelling, noticing the broken window below. There was only a minute before they would try and come up here, or ask you if you caught the hooded vigilante.

“Looks like you finally have the upper hand. Tell me Y/n, what are you doing working for Penguin knowing he’ll never use your full potential?”, he asked, and you pushed your foot onto his arm to keep him from talking. He groaned a little and you didn’t falter.

“That’s nothing you should concern yourself with. Tell me Red, why risk going after the big dogs when you can barely keep up?”

“I think I’m keeping up pretty well”, he mocks. You narrowed your eyes at him, your gun still aimed at his head. You kept his gaze, locked on him as you contemplated in your head.

“(Y/n)! Are you there?”, you looked behind you before yelling back.

“Yeah. I’m here!”

“Did you get him? The Red Hood!”

“Yeah, doll. Did you?”, you narrowed your eyes. You knew the price on his head was more than enough to get you out of this city. Enough to survive for the next five years if need be, but there was something that tipped you off. There was a tug in your gut, you couldn’t be sure if it was worth it and yet…

“(Y/N)!”

A moment of hesitation and you pushed yourself off of the Red Hood, yelling back, “No, he got away!”

You stood and he stayed laying there for a moment before he also rose to his feet, his gaze still locked on you. What were you doing?

“I’ll be down, go tell Boss to warn Black Mask and Carmine!”, they yelled back a simple okay and with that they left.

“How sweet of you.”

“I’m not doing this for you. I have my reasons” you answered harshly before uncocking your fun and placing it back in the small holster on your waist.

“Does this have to do with that ugly faced Black Mask?”, he asked, cocking his head as he rolled his shoulders.

You narrow your eyes at him, hesitating before answering. “It doesn’t matter who or why. Go before you make me regret not having our men torture you”

He laughed. “Our men. Sweetheart, those are Penguin’s men. There you go again assuming you’re of some value to that fat bird.”

“You underestimate me, Red”, you said through clenched teeth. Anger radiating off of you like fire. “Go before I end up shooting you”

“Always so protective of the men that own you”, he said under his breath.

You pulled your gun out again swiftly, pushing it under his jaw and holding his gaze with your own. “I don’t belong to anyone motherfucker. Now leave before I fucking shoot you”, you growled. He raised his hands, showing a simple surrender.

“Okay, noted.”

“Why play such a risky game? You know you’ll get caught eventually.”, you looked at him and he shrugged, “Never been caught before. I think I’ll be alright”.

You couldn’t tell if this man was being serious or if he was just taunting you. Most people who were raised on the streets knew how to hold their own, so you expected that he would know too and was just another power hungry nobody.

“Okay fucker. Now leave before I put a bullet through that brain of yours”

The man took a long stride towards you, the gloss of the helmet obviously ruined, but still a bright crimson red that made him noticeable in a crowd. You could sense his breath, steady and controlled but gave away that he had no real intent to hurt you. He was painfully close, but working somewhere like the club, you were used to the invasion of privacy time and time again.

“Sweetheart”, you looked at him, raising your head a little since you were far shorter than him, “Don’t start something you won’t be able to finish.”, he challenged.

“And what if I can?”, you countered just as fast. He stared at you, before stepping back, your heart beating in your chest.

“I’d be more than interested to see that, but your master is calling.”, you glared at him, and not even two seconds later, your small alarm went off, indicating Penguin’s call. You looked at the Red Hood who placed both guns in his holster that seemed to wrap around his muscular thighs perfectly, cursing yourself for even noticing his build in the first place.

“Well, (Y/n), can’t wait for our next date.”, he said before jumping off the roof and heading towards the opposite direction of the club. You stayed a moment longer before heading back down towards the Boss’s room.

A/N:

I received such great response to my prologue for this series and I am very excited to keep it going. I’ll be posting updates every week on either Fridays or Saturdays depending on my work load! If i’m delayed or cannot post on those days I will post saying so. Please be patient as I am also in Uni and am doing this series as a way to distract myself from school and have a little hobby that is fun for me. I do have chapters planned a week in advance so I can keep a good posting schedule. But again, please be patient with me!

I love writing these so and I hope you enjoy reading them!

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strawhbrrries · 1 year ago

Text

Invisible String.

pairing: older brother's best friend!frank castle x reader

summary: all along there was some invisible string tying you to frank castle.

warnings: none, just lots of sweetness!!!

word count: 1267 words

author’s note: this version of frank is so ken from barbie where it's like "ken's day was good as long as barbie looked at him" and i love it, listen to invisible string by taylor swift to get the full experience.

Were there clues I didn’t see?

Frank’s eyes scanned your face, watching the way your nose scrunched when you laughed so hard it was silent and water was streaming down your face and the campfire in front of you warmed your face. He’d spent every single day since the two of you had met admiring you, watching your heart get broken from every guy you brought home, being the shoulder you could count on when all of your friends inevitability flaked out. He could count all the times he tried to express his feelings on one hand, backing out at the last moment each and every time.

“What are you staring at? Weirdo.” You teased, scrunching your nose in the very way he found irresistible, making a face at him and turning back to the rest of your friend group.

You loved Frank, more than any friend should love their best friend. You’d lost count of how many nights you’d spent crying to your mom over the phone, wondering why he just didn’t like you back and asking what you did to deserve this torture from the universe.

“Nothing.” He smiled back, catching the eye of your friend across the fire, taking a sip of the beer in his hand. He never tried to hide his affection for you, never tried to make it a secret to anyone but you, he was fully aware that everyone around the two of you was most likely aware of the crush he had on you.

Were there clues I didn’t see?

Frank was your, slightly, older brother’s best friend. He’d been around for as long as you could remember, in almost every photograph there was of you or your brother since your mom started printing photos out. But he never had that older brother feel that a lot of your brother’s friends had, it wasn’t that he was unreliable or careless. He was the opposite. He cared more than any of your brother’s friends normally did. Sure, they’d come to your rescue if a boy hurt you or if you needed a ride somewhere or if you just needed a pick me up.

Frank was different. He cared. If the boys were going out to dinner he almost always picked up something for you on the way back, the only times he didn’t was in respect for the girl he was seeing at the time. He’d slip a twenty in the pocket of the jacket you always wore if he knew you needed some extra money, or if he knew you needed cheering up. Even if he didn’t have a job he always did it, and he never regretted it. To him, what he thought was, unrequited love wasn’t an issue. He’d cross every ocean and move every mountain and act like it was the easiest thing to do, all just to get a hint of a smile aimed towards him.

Frank was only two years older than you, well technically two years and one day, and he’d never let you forget it. He’d tell you to respect your elders and you’d shoot back that he was definitely an elder and that you could see the gray hairs coming in. The day you were born your mom told his that you two were destined for each other, she swore she could tell just by the way the two year old held your fraile, hours old body. His mom would tell you on every birthday you were just one more year closer to becoming a Castle girl, telling you how you’d make the prettiest one too. You always rolled your eyes and thanked her for whatever she had gotten you that year.

Were there clues I didn’t see?

“Your mom keeps lecturing me on how to treat women, she acts like I’m whoring myself out like your brother is.” He rolled his eyes, washing the dishes in the sink. None of which were his, considering he was in your house at midnight doing the chores you’d been putting off for awhile.

“She just cares, Frankie.” You mumbled back, legs swinging as they hung off the counter next to the sink, watching him scrub at the residue left on a pan you should’ve definitely cleaned the same day you used it.

You’d graduated college a few months ago, gotten the job of your dreams and yet felt so unfulfilled. You knew why. He was standing in your kitchen complaining about your mom, dish towel swung over his shoulder and shaggy hair pulled back by a headband you demanded he put on before he got stuff in his hair. Ever since you’d moved to this apartment he’d been over pretty much everyday, it felt odd without his presence in the house, it felt lonely without him.

“I tell her every time, I only want one woman.” He responded, catching your eye as he took the towel off his shoulder to dry the dish he just washed.

“So tell the girl, there’s no use telling me about it if you haven’t told her.” Your heart felt heavy, no matter how many times he’d tried to hint at you that he was in love with you it just never clicked, it might as well had come out of your ass and slid across the floor with a giant sign proclaiming your love for him.

“It’s you.”

Isn’t it just so pretty to think…

“Mom it’s just an anniversary, there really isn’t a need to bring the whole family here. It’s just dinner.” You explained, not knowing she knew more than you.

The ring was in his pocket, lighting it on fire, burning a hole right through the fabric. Frank’s mind couldn’t comprehend that this was happening, it was really happening, after years of pining after you he was going to propose.

All along there was some…

The day had finally come, you’d worked your ass off to get everything perfect and exactly the way you wanted it to be. Teenage you couldn’t believe you were standing here, actually about to become a Castle girl. You weren’t sure how both moms knew it was destined to be but you were glad they did, there wasn’t anyone else in the entire world you’d rather be doing this with.

“I can still remember the first time your mom told me I was destined to be a Castle girl, I had rolled my eyes and scoffed like that was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. Why on earth would I want to marry my brother’s best friend? That seemed like torture. As the years went by it became something I couldn’t help but dream about, wondering how our relationship would come to be and if you had the intricate proposal I wanted down to the finest details. Every time you brought a girlfriend around, I hated you. Not really, but as much as a teenager full of angst and the world's largest crush on her brother’s best friend could muster. Then you matured, stopped bringing girls around and paid more attention to me. But you never made a move, I thought I was destined to be the little sister forever. But then, that one night in my kitchen you were complaining about how my mom kept lecturing you about how to treat women and you confessed your feelings. Stopped washing my dishes and gave me a kiss, it was surreal. Comparable to the ending of a coming-of-age movie. You’ve been around my whole life, Frankie, and all along there was some invisible string tying you to me.”

#maddies fics #frank castle #jon bernthal #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher #frank castle imagine #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle headcanons #frank castle x female reader #taylor swift #jon bernthal x you #jon bernthal fluff #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal imagine #jon bernthal fanfiction #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfiction

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angelsdean · 2 months ago

Text

THE RESURRECTION OF DEAN WINCHESTER

Another body was placed before him on the rack. A fresh one. Soul unbroken. They wept, dripping light onto the blood-soaked dungeon floor.

The knife in his hand stung, hellfire shot down his throat, turned his insides to ash. He could not speak, had not spoken in a decade. Not since he finally uttered that broken, "Yes."

A clammy hand slithered over his shoulder. Hot, putrid breath against his cheek.

"Go on, boy. Make me proud."

He lifted his knife. His caged heart sobbed. Rattled. Squeezed itself, vice-like.

It beat outside his body. Or, his chest had been gouged open long ago. A gory window in, putting it right there for all to see. Alastair just laughed. He loved this part. Seeing Dean tear himself in two.

"What's the matter, Dean?" he cooed, pressing up close. "You know you love it." Alastair lifted Dean's chin with a finger. "Got a freshie, just for you. They always scream so pretty, no?"

Dean shuttered his eyes. It did nothing to change the scene. Please, he cried, inside. Please, end this torture. Someone, please.

He'd been begging for an eternity. Salvation never came. Still, he prayed, small and childlike. Four years old, asking for his mother. Forty years in Hell, asking for this fire to stop burning.

"Do you need me to break you a little?" Alastair continued in that same false sweetness. "Will that get you going?" His hands were all over. More hands growing and groping. Dean shook as knives were plunged into him. Twisting hooks. Two hands 'round his neck. One finger probing at his caged heart.

Dean sobbed, screamed out. His own light leaked onto the floor, out of the dark void that had come to mask his soul.

He couldn't hurt another soul. He couldn't stand it. He let the knife fall. Clattering like a thunderclap. Light continued to spill out, filling the room. Alastair increased his onslaught, displeased by Dean's disobedience.

"I will put you back on the rack," he roared. "I will take you apart piece by piece. You will never be whole again. Deep down. You know it. You are rotten to the core." His hand shot through Dean's guts, scooping him clean, leaving him empty.

A ringing filled his ears. Dean couldn't hear himself anymore. Even Alastair's voice faded away. The room continued to fill with light. Different now. Blue-white mingling with the gold of Dean's soul.

Opening his eyes against the brilliance he caught glimpses of massive wings and shifting heads, changing colors and claws. Millions of eyes looked at him. Dean shut his own eyes once more, and the image he'd seen fizzled away, incomprehensible to his mind.

Then the being gripped him. His shoulder burned at the point of contact, but it was a pleasant burn.

The searing sensation zipped through him. Warm and cool all at once. The cage around his heart fell away.

He was pulled upwards, like a fish on a hook, shooting through the water up towards the light.

For the first time in forty years, he felt no pain. Breaking the surface, he drank his first breath from the being that enveloped him.

Then, deep and clear as a bell, a voice proclaimed: DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED.

➥ supernatural september prompts: rotten, reanimated, between heaven and hell, trueform

#destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel #deancas #tw noncon #(for the alastair bits)#spnsept24 #myficlets #my writing #tw torture #tw gore

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selfloverrrrrr · 7 months ago

Note

Home invader Gojo, noncon and degradation kink pls

You're alone...?

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference, home invader Gojo, Mafia Au....

Summary: Gojo and Sukuna are rivals. Sukuna pulled Gojo's trigger without any reason now Gojo came to take revenge....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Mafia world is full of danger. But Mafias love playing with danger. Actually their life based on danger..... There were so many mafia families. But there were two most powerful families. One is Ryomen family another one is Gojo family. They were equally powerful and were rivals. They always fight with each other to take the most powerful's place. The head of Ryomen family is Ryomen Sukuna and the head of Gojo family is Gojo Satoru.

Ryomen Sukuna did a bomb blast in one of Gojo's drug selling company. Sukuna is my brother. My own brother. Sukuna was watching the news of the bomb blast he did. Watching the news and smirking. I just came down from the second floor, from my room and saw Sukuna watching news. "What are you watching" I asked and sit beside him on the couch. "Progress" he replied with the smirk.

"you did that?" I asked. "Who else gonna do?" He asked looking at me. " Why did you do that without any reason?" I asked. "Well sis, that's not a reasonless .... I did that because Gojo was trying to be the powerful again...so yeah " he replied. "That's not a reason tho.... but whatever, I don't care " I replied. "Oh?..." Sukuna said and started tickle me "I know my sister doesn't care about anything " he said with a smile and tickle me more. "Ahahaha... stop....ahahahaha Sukuna stop " I said between laughs. He finally stopped.

"you're an ass" I said. He smirked at me. "Oh... I forgot to tell you... I'm going out for a dealing tonight gonna return tomorrow night" Sukuna said. "Okey... and can you call your special jeweller? I was thinking about making a new diamond earrings" I said. "Okey...miss Ryomen" He replied.

Sukuna went for his deal that night. I was home alone now. Actually not alone there were some bodyguards with. Ofcourse Sukuna won't leave me without any protection. Being Mafia's sister is dangerous too. Doesn't matter if I have done anything or not life is still risky.

At Gojo's office:

Gojo was sitting on the chair of his office. Clenching his jaw. He banged his hand on the table infront of him. " That son of a bitch trying to play with fire huh? This fire gonna fucking burn him!!!" Gojo said with grinded teeth. Everyone was silent infront of him. " Just oder us , sir....we gonna end him" yuta said and everyone agreed with him. "Nuh... not gonna order this time... wanna do this with my own hands" Gojo said and went up from his chair.

Gojo's POV

It was night time. I went to that motherfucker's house. Already security out. I just walked inside normally because my gang members killed all the security of the outside. Going inside there were bodyguard as normal. I took out my gun and started shooting. All members of my gang are shooting too. Yuji, Yuta, Megumi, Nanami, Nobara and Maki. Everyone shooting. My guards were shooting too. But something seemed suspicious. After so many shooting sounds Sukuna didn't came? Strange!... Did he run? Doesn't seem like. All guards were killed now. "So so so ..... Where is the great Ryomen Sukuna? Is he sceared now.... bitch you started this shit... now fucking come out!!!" I scremed. But still no response.

End of Gojo's POV

Y/n's POV :

I was listening music in my room. Earphones were in my ear. There's a bell in my room. If I press the button the bell will ring and servent or someone gonna come. I was feeling hungry. So I pressed the button. Few minutes passed still no one came. I took off my earphone and pressed the button again. Still no response.... 'why ain't they coming?' I thought. I got out of my room and rushed down floor. "Why aren't any of you answerin-" I couldn't complete my sentence when I saw the dead bodies every where.

There were some people standing there. One guy with blonde hair, a girl with short brown hair, a girl with green hair, a guy with black spike hair, a guy with pink hair, a guy with black hair and then a tall guy with white hair and blue eyes. I know him. He's none other than Gojo Satoru. Our rival. They all looked at me hearing my voice.

My eyes widened. I couldn't say anything with fear. "Who's that?" Gojo asked. "That's Sukuna's sister, Mr.Gojo" Nanami said. Gojo again looked at me. "Oh... I see...it seems like that bitch isn't at home rn" Gojo said. I started going upwards back to my room slowly. " Lemme take care of Miss Ryomen... you all go to other side " Gojo said with a smirk. They all gave him a smirk back.

I didn't look at any where and run towards the bedroom. I could hear him running behind me. As I went into the bedroom I turned and closed the door. But Gojo didn't let it shut. He grabbed it from other side and pushed it. He pushed the door with more pressure. I was pushing the door from the other side. But didn't take much time for Gojo to come inside. As he came inside my heart beat fasten. He closed the door and locked it.

He came towards me and hold me tightly close to him. "P-please let me go.... I don't wanna die... please don't kill me " I said with shaking voice. "Oh don't worry.... I'm not gonna kill you sweetheart " He said with a smirk. One of his hand started squeezing my ass. It striked in my mind what was he going to do " no no... p-please no" I said. " shhhh.... you should relax..." He said. " Your brother did something... and I already gave him his gift for that.... I should give you something too" He said smirking at me. "Please no..." I panicked.

He started dragging me towards my bed. Then He threw me on his bed. Fear grabbed me by my neck. Gojo started crawling towards me. " S-stop..... please stop" I said. I tried to get off from the bed but he grabbed me by my leg and pulled me back on the bed. " I'm begging you....please stop" I begged but he crashed his lips on mine. Kissing me roughly. Making me breathless.

He started undressing me. I tried to stop him but my strength was nothing for him. He almost took off my clothes. I was just left in my panties. Gojo started licking my nipple. His was so teasing. I moaned. He continued his teasing licking and sucking on my nipple. With his one hand he grabbed my other boob and squeezed it roughly. I scremed so loudly.

When he was done playing with my nipples and boobs he got up and started taking off my panties. " Gojo please...." I begged again but he didn't listen to me. He bring his face close to my pussy and licked it. "Oh...someone is wet~.... so you're liking being a slut huh?" he whispered with a smirk.

He took off his pant. His huge length was out now. My eyes widened at his length. It was too long and too thick. "What slut? Thinking can't take it?" He said. He grabbed his dick stroked it two or three times then line it with my entrence. I began to panic. " Gojo Gojo no.... please no .... Gojo please no... It's too big.... it's not gonna fit." I sobbingly begged him. " Shhhhhh ..... Sluts doesn't talk too much.... so you should accept what I'm doing " He whispered in my ear.

" P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. "Look at yourself whore....fucking clenching around my dick like a whore you are" With a few more thurst I came. He again smirked at me. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. " Shhh.... shut up and just fucking take what I'm giving you." He screamed. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. Then He pulled out.

"my....m-my brother's gonna kill you" I said before passing out. "He should care about himself first princess" Gojo said picking me up in bridal style.

Sukuna's POV:

I just arrived home. I opened the door. " Hey sis, I talked with the jweller about your diamo-" I couldn't finish my words. I saw dead bodies and bloods all over my house. I slowly took out my gun. "...sis?" I said. I was slowly going towards y/n's room. The door was closed. I opened the door and point the gun. No one was there. 'where is y/n?' I thought. Then I saw a envelope on the bed. I went towards it and took it. I opened the envelope. My blood started boiling. There's a picture of Gojo fucking y/n. This mother fucker!!!!! When I saw the backside of the photo there was written *Did you liked the gift?*"I'm gonna fucking kill this son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!" I scremed.

Part-2

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bellshells · 14 days ago

Text

A Promise of Grim Death

Hi! First, I’ve never written for Art before- but I loved it. 10/10 will do again.

Second, I wrote, edited and posted this on my phone. Times are hard bestie, we do what we can. So if you see any errors in there, shh no you don’t.

Third, there’s a few TW here; I’ll do my best to list them all. But surely to god if you’re reading Art The Clown anything you know there’s going to be batshit times ahead. Okay, love you bye!

TW: language, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of gratuitous violence, murder (only a little one and it’s not too bad I promise), thoughts of a sexual nature (Art remembers that fucking is a thing), suggestions of grooming, suggestions of familial death, stalking, masturbation, art??? Is he his own trigger warning?

Art had been trailing Sienna for hours. He followed her from Target to what he assumed was her new apartment, and now he sat in a parking lot downtown in a beaten up van. He had seen her go down an alleyway hidden somewhat on the corner of 86th and Maple a couple of hours ago, and whilst he waited for her to reappear, he thought of all the ways in which he could inflict the most unimaginable pain unto her.

He considered flaying, but that was too time consuming for very little pay off. He thought about some good old fashioned water torture, but he was still too impatient. Art was desperate to end Sienna. He wanted to watch the life drain from her eyes, the last thing she would see on this mortal plane was the smiling face of Art the Clown. He sighed silently, he didn’t miss talking per se, but he did miss being able to convey his annoyance. The bike horn had its charm; don’t get him wrong. But sometimes he missed being able to sigh, or grunt or scream. Screaming was also fun. After another thirty minutes of listening to Talk Radio, the only way to consume radio in his opinion, he decided to take action. Pulling his black bag full of items of his pleasure/your pain close to his chest, he exited his vehicle.

Rounding the corner to the alleyway, he surveyed his surroundings. The sun had long set and a low sitting fog had begun to settle. Art loved nights like this, he could often smell the fear of passersby before he could see them. For as they say, you never knew what could be lurking in the dark. For Art though, he could almost sustain himself off of the fear itself. Almost. He gave a trash can a big, jolly kick knocking it tumbling into two more. He genuinely found this very funny indeed, especially when the homeless man who was sound asleep between them jumped up in a daze. The man was all arms and legs, shouting incoherently. When he saw Art, a cold terror swept over his face and he tripped over himself trying to make his escape. Art was faster though, he gripped a handful of the man’s shaggy hair as he tried to run and pulled down, bringing his knee up to meet the man’s face in an expert blow. Art did this a further three times, with each connection to the man’s face, it concaved further in on itself until he was unrecognisable. Just a mass of blood and sharp pieces of bone, exposed cartilage and teeth. Lots of teeth.

A bang from further along the alley made him freeze. He dropped the homeless man immediately, and kicked him against the wall. Dodging behind a broken fire escape, Art saw a door open and a figure step out. He craned his head to see who it was, though he needn’t have. He knew it was her, opening a dumpster and throwing trash bags inside.

He eyed Sienna with a white hot fury as she closed the dumpster, his view partially obscured by the fire escape; but it was enough to see her fish a bottle of hand sanitiser out from an apron she wore around her waist. Art toyed with the idea of shooting her there and then. One swift bullet straight into her skull would leave such a pretty smattering of brain matter on the dull brickwork behind her, but no, he wanted to make this last. He wanted to hurt her. He took one step out from his hiding spot, but the sound of a gruff man’s voice behind Sienna stopped him.

“Get your ass back in here, we’re getting fucked in the ass behind this bar,” Sienna’s shoulders slumped as she turned to face the man, he too wore an apron and dried his hands on an off white towel.

“It’s almost like you want to drown in trash,” she said, the man gave her a sarcastic smile and held the door open for her. Art strained to hear what was said as the fire door slammed shut behind them, but the music emanating from within was too loud even for his sensitive ears.

He made his way over to the door and tried the handle to no avail. He pulled tightly and still the door wouldn’t budge, instead he decided to give it a swift kick. Fuck that door, he thought. Fuck it. Art wandered back onto the street, he counted back the buildings until he was sure he found the one that Sienna had emerged from. The blacked out windows of a bookshop confused Art, he was sure he heard music, and didn’t that guy mention a bar? A single flickering bulb hung limply above the entrance, it was a single framed door with a peephole that watched him as he studied the entrance. This had to be the place, but why did it look so sketchy? Art shrugged and pushed against the door, it opened slowly into a dark vestibule you couldn’t swing a cat in. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he noticed the walls lined with books were just a wallpapered effect. He brought a finger up and traced the seam where two panels joined. It was then that he heard applause, rapturous applause coming from below. He turned on himself, once and then once more until he could faintly make out a heavy black curtain hidden in one of the corners. Tentatively pushing it to one side, a narrow wooden staircase appeared before him. That familiar sound of music rose up from the stairs, and with one silent step, he descended them.

Art expected to find Sienna at the bottom, he deduced that she’d be behind the bar serving overpriced drinks to a newly gentrified crowd. And he did find that, but what surprised him was the unmistakable feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. Its beating was so ferocious he could hear it in his ears. It had been a long time since Art had felt his heartbeat. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he even had one anymore. But as he rounded the corner after the last step, he felt all too human indeed.

The bottom of the stairs opened up into a wide cavernous room with an arched ceiling decorated with twinkly lights. A bar on the far right hand side is where Sienna stood, chatting cheerfully with a customer as she wiped the bar top down. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Art didn’t care, for his attention had been entirely captured by the woman who stood on the stage. His black bag of goodies slipped from his shoulder and landed with a clang at his feet. This usually would have drawn attention, but the sound was disguised by the most beautiful sound he had heard.

She was tall this woman, not as tall as him of course, but she stood proudly in a red dress. Art couldn’t help but notice the way the velvet seemed to wrap around her body like an embrace. Her hair, long and the colour of fire pushed over her shoulders to expose her throat. He eyed it as she sang, the way it moved with each note. She was sultry in her movements too, her hands an extension of her voice, in her hair, on her hips, around her waist, thrust out into an equally captivated audience. Art swallowed instinctively and his mouth felt dry, he brought his fingers up to his lips and he noticed they were trembling. He stood until she finished her song, a long sustained note- impressive for any singer, but this was divine treacle dripping from her lips. The audience again were generous with their applause, this woman and her band, a drummer and some men with shitty jazz instruments basked in it. Art always took pleasure in killing musicians, artists or folk of that ilk. He enjoyed watching the life seep from them, their magnum opus often nothing more than a crimson stain upon his gloves. But this woman was wholly different, she was like a monolith of a bygone era. A penetrating gaze suddenly lowered, coupled with a flirtatious smirk of a red lip. A long white glove scandalously exposing the top of a bare arm, the most innocuous piece of flesh unexpectedly the most arousing promise of more. And boy did he feel that arousal.

It was foreign to him, alien almost. A dull ache in the pit of his stomach that had almost been entirely forgotten. He had once been a creature intent on satisfying his most carnal desires, and yet, in his contemporary memory- he was laden with an empty feeling of well, nothing. There was rage, and then, nothing. The only way in which Art could liken this feeling of sudden and irrevocable desire, was the desire in which he wanted Sienna Shaw dead. Not just dead, destroyed. Mutilated and destroyed and dead. Mutilated and destroyed and dead and finished. It was something that Art recognised deeply as an obsession, yet Art was also a master of getting what he wanted. What he wanted in that moment, was to hide.

Art noticed a small table set for two hidden partially behind a supporting pillar. He had a clear line of sight to the stage, yet he would be obscured from the bar. He would get to Sienna, he would, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, the threat of an erection that pushed gently against the front of his costume. Art’s first erection in a long, long time. He shuffled nervously from foot to foot. A flash of teenage panic behind his eyes. A memory of a girl with huge tits sitting in front of him on the school bus. A memory of another life.

He settled at the table and placed his bag in his lap, folding his hands over the top neatly. Art watched her intently, the way she interacted with her band, the way she fiddled with the cable of her microphone. He watched as it slipped slowly through her fingers, his dull ache became more of a throb. Art tried to skilfully cross one leg over the other without drawing any attention with as much grace a 6”4 monochromatic porteur de mort could muster. For the first time since Art had donned his costume all of those years ago, he tried to blend in. Act natural. He tried to be so inconspicuous he could almost be a waxwork in the corner. A forgotten project, or an antique put on display. Anything to not pull any attention away from this woman on the stage.

“This will be our last number,” the woman spoke into the microphone. The audience made noises of protest, but Art’s mouth ran dry once more. Her voice was like a gong in his ears, reverberating around his head. It was dizzying. It was thrilling. She smiled then, and Art’s chest deflated. His unfamiliar heartbeat arrhythmic, his brow sweaty. Christ, he thought, her smile was downright devastatingly lovely. He bared his bloodied teeth in response, a reflex responding to his unnatural thoughts. A defense against this monstrous vulnerability.

A couple of men on the table next to Art’s stood and moved toward the stairs, momentarily obscuring his view. Art banged his fist on the table furiously, the shorter of the two men jumped in fright and turned to look at Art, the shock on his face visible even in the dim light. Art shooed the man away with a flick of his wrist, his face twisted into a disgruntled snarl. These precious seconds lost, thought Art, she’s only singing one more song. He just wanted to look at her, he wanted to stare at her. He wanted his vision to be filled with nothing but this woman and the way her body moved to this number from the Great American Songbook. He remembered one of the nuns would listen to this song after hours, she would sit in the Reverend Mother’s office on the ledge of a large window. You could just about slip your wrist through the bars affixed on the outside, that was helpful if you needed to flick away the ash of a cigarette. Which she often needed to. Art remembered thinking this nun was rather pretty, for a nun that is. He would stand hidden behind a big filing cabinet and just watch her. She would pull her knees up to her chest and the skirt of her habit with them, letting the moonlight dance across her pale legs. Once, when he was fifteen, he remembered she caught him staring at her whilst she did this, instead of screaming for the Reverend Mother, she smiled and slowly pushed her stockings down her thighs, unclipping the suspender deftly with one hand. That same hand outstretched to him in silent invitation.

Art shook his head to clear his thoughts, he didn’t want to think about her. She was entire lifetime ago, two lifetimes ago even. No, he wouldn’t think about Sister Anne. Instead he would think about this other divine creature, this new one singing his favourite song. At least, it used to be. He was grateful that his little detour of memory had indeed killed his erection. A silent little breath of relief left him, he rubbed his eyes gently so as not to disturb his makeup. At least he could return his attention to the woman, he marvelled at her. She was beautiful, that was a given; but there was something else within her that drew him to her. Art found this physiological reaction complexing, he found it infuriating, but he also found it rather comforting in a strange way. It was like a piece of him that he thought had been lost forever. He supposed in fact not. He supposed that perhaps he just had a type, and his type was this one particular woman. Where usually he would look at someone; man or woman and feel the burning rage and desire to kill them in painful and obscene ways- with her, there was just this almost morbid desire to well, fuck her.

He remembered fucking too. He remembered liking it, loving it even. He used to fuck anyone that would let him, as even psychopathic killers have a line of morality they won’t cross. Boys, girls, nuns and everything in between. Art would fuck them. And he was good at it too. Perhaps a little sadistic, but he was good at making people cum. He wondered if he’d still be able to do it. He knew he still had blood in his veins, and his newfound ability of a racing heart was a not so unpleasant a surprise, but would his cock still work? Would it feel the same? Would he be able to-?

Art was drawn from his deep contemplation by a searing pain in his hand. He cried out, well, he would have if he had a voice. His eyes shot down to see a serrated blade used for cutting steak sticking out of the back of his hand, then a flurry of dark hair appeared over his shoulder. The maddening scent of apple and vanilla washed over him, it turned his stomach.

“You’re a real piece of shit turning up at my job,” Sienna hissed in his ear. Art moved his eyes to look at her menacingly, he brought a finger from his non-stabbed hand and pressed it to his lips and pointed at the stage. Sienna’s gaze wavered for a moment, flickering over to where the woman was finishing her song. Her last song. Art was furious with Sienna for ruining it. He’d add it to the list. “I won’t kill you in front of these people,” She said, “I need to keep this job, and it’s in your best interests if you go quietly. Don’t cause a scene, Art. You’ll regret it.” Art laughed at that, his shoulders bobbing up and down. Did she really think she could tell him what to do? Demand things from him? He swiftly pulled the knife out from the back of his hand and plunged it just as quickly into the top of her thigh. It was the fleshiest part so it wouldn’t kill her, she wouldn’t even bleed all that much. But it would give her a couple of hours in the ER, a minor inconvenience at best. He would have to be satisfied with causing her a minor inconvenience, there were more important things that required his attention. Sienna gasped with pain, her hands coming either side of the protruding blade. “Fuck!” She spat, her teeth clenched together. Art’s hand now ceased in its bleeding and would be right as rain come the morning. Annoyingly, so would Sienna. But that was by the by. “If you do anything to these people,” Sienna wheezed, “I will hunt you down.” Art gave a her a wave with his fingers, a saccharine smile plastered on his face. She limped off in the direction of the bar, the guy Art had seen talking to her in the alleyway rushed to her aid. He saw them talking animatedly, and he ushered her into a room behind the bar.

Art finally, finally returned his attention to the stage just as the woman finished her song. Art felt a sense of deflation as the final sweep of applause bounced off the walls. He joined them, quickly slapping his hands together. It was then, as the woman left the stage and the musicians started packing up their instruments that the house lights were raised ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the people around him to notice that there was a clown in their midst. Which on any day is odd, but on a cold late November night drew some raised eyebrows. The murmurs started then, and Art felt an unfamiliar discomfort. A heat raised on the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt embarrassment in a long time, even in his former life it had felt an age since the last time he had allowed himself to be embarrassed. Yet, as he heard the whispers and one interesting mention of Miles County he stood. He grasped his black bag and made his way silently up the stairs, acutely aware of the eyes that bore into his back with each step. Glancing over his shoulder, he longed for one last look at this woman, instead he found a poster haphazardly placed on the wall. It had her picture, her dazzling smile. Art gently pulled it from the wall and brought it to his lips, he didn’t kiss it, no, but he did run his lips over hers.

Back in his van, he produced the poster once more. It was an events poster by the looks of it, detailing all the acts playing at that bar, (which he now understood to be named The Speakeasy,) in the run up to Christmas. Art was derailed slightly by how impressed he was with the number of local acts on the bill, nodding in approval. He scoured the calendar at the bottom and found today’s date, November 20th. There he found three acts;

7:00- Sheena Morris

9:30- The Shortage System

11:15- Daphne Loveday and The Little Lovers

Art checked the time on the van clock, it was 12:45, that had to be her. Daphne Loveday. Daphne Loveday.

This woman, this holy apparition was due to perform every Thursday before Christmas. Art grumbled silently to himself. He hated the thought of not being able to see her again for a whole week. He could of course, follow her home tonight. See where she lived, observe her routine, get close to her even. But where Art’s usual vengeful fury lived, the familiar guttural need for blood was replaced with something else entirely. This feeling was not completely unknown to him, he had known desire and even love before. He loved his mother for instance, until he didn’t. He loved the Reverend Mother too, until her skull crumbled beneath his fingertips. He even had a minute softness for Vicky and well, yes, there was Vicky. But this was different. This was something else. This attraction, and he begrudgingly named it so, was an almost cosmic pull. Art had long since questioned his existence, human or otherwise, he knew better than to wonder why the things that happened to him happened.

Art turned the key in the ignition, resolving himself to no more play or plunder tonight. He felt that to take another life tonight would be disrespectful to her, to Daphne. No, tonight would be sacred to him. Whatever that meant. Sienna would have to wait. He pulled out from the parking lot and stopped just shy of the entrance to The Speakeasy, and saw Daphne’s band mates lugging their heavy equipment out of the front doors. They were wrapped up tightly in coats and scarves, the five men passed a lighter around them as they lit celebratory cigarettes. They chatted loudly, Art could hear their laughter as it carried down the street and through the slightly cracked open window of his van. He knew he was waiting for one last glimpse of her. One last glimpse and then he could go home. One last glimpse and he could go home and imagine the things he wanted to do to her. He refused to acknowledge the fact he didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to hurt her, but from the inside. He wanted to see the look on her face when that pain turned into blissful pleasure.

Focus.

Art watched intently as one of the men held the door open. Daphne emerged draped in a long green woollen coat, it hugged her waist and flowed just shy of the sidewalk, now glistening with the promise of a frosty morning. She pulled a large black suitcase behind her, getting caught on the frame of the front door. Before he could realise, Art was slamming the van door and in six quick strides he had grasped the handle of the suitcase and hoisted it over the threshold with ease. He collapsed the extendable piece and lifted it by its handle, waiting for further instruction. The musicians stood dumbfounded, he hadn’t realised that perhaps his silent approach and apparent theft of this woman’s suitcase would cause such an uneasy din to settle. The men eyed each other warily, each of them flashing a concerned look in Daphne’s direction. She, on the other hand looked surprised if largely unphased. This pleased Art. Pride swelled in his chest.

“Oh! Thank you,” Daphne said, her eyes alight with an almost humour. They were green, Art saw. She had the most beautiful green eyes. Art made a gesture for her to proceed and he would follow. Without looking at her band, she nodded and headed back towards the direction of the parking lot. Art followed dutifully behind her, refusing to glance back at the men behind him. He followed her to a silver minivan parked incredibly next to where Art had parked his own van. He could have just waited he thought, without outing himself so quickly. The rest of the band came around the corner as Daphne rooted her through pockets, producing a key. She unlocked the minivan and Art brought the suitcase to the trunk, opening it up and placing it gently inside. Daphne appeared next to him then and he caught a whiff of her. Incense and lily, and an almost metallic smell that he couldn’t work out. She smiled at Art again, as she rearranged some things already in her trunk, an old duffle bag, a pair of sneakers and a large black umbrella that almost took out Art’s good eye when she manoeuvred it. “Oops, sorry,” she giggled. Art thought he simply might pass away at the sound of her small laughter, once more he could hear his uneven heartbeat. It was thunderous. His stomach aflutter with the proximity of her body to his, twice she had accidentally brushed against his arm. Twice he felt the skin beneath his costume feel ablaze. “Thank you,” she said finally to Art. The other musicians had appeared and were adding their own cases into the mini van. Three of them had pushed the larger pieces into the body of the van, covering the back seats usually reserved for small children with black cased instruments. There was certainly no room for anyone else to sit, he wondered whether she would be going home alone.

“Oh fuck me,” said one of the men, he stood a ways off, tapping furiously on his phone. “The road’s closed between 75th and Main, there’s been an accident. Big pile up apparently,” he read from his phone, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Six cars, all dead.”

Yummy, Art thought.

“We’ll have to drive through Fair Creek to drop the stuff off,” said another, pinching the bridge of his nose. Daphne looked between them, Art stood back against the wall, hoping to disappear into the brickwork.

“That’s fine,” she levelled, “I have to swing by the ER anyway, see how madam clumsy is doing,”

Art shot a look at Daphne, she couldn’t possibly be talking about Sienna, could she? Fuck.

“I can take the van then,” said the first man, his hand outstretched for her keys. She dropped them into his palm and walked around the back of the minvan, she turned then.

“Hey, thanks for carrying my-“ she stopped short, looking for the clown. But Art had skulked back to his own van, headlights turned off and the window pulled all the way down. He could hear her perfectly, see her perfectly as she looked over her shoulder for Art. “Where did he go?”

“Who cares, that guy gave me the creeps,” said the new driver of the minivan. “Can we go? It’s fucking freezing,”

Daphne, still craning her neck to look for Art, acquiesced. He watched her climb into the backseat of a beat up Buick LaSabre with four of her bandmates. The other two in the minivan. Art tightened his grip on the steering wheel, he imagined how impossibly close she would be sitting in between two of those men. How they would be able to smell her, to feel her touch. He snarled into the darkness.

Art contemplated for a minute after he watched the cars disappear whether he should head to the hospital. He knew she’d be there, but he also knew Sienna would be there and he just did not have the energy to deal with the bullshit that would come from that. Instead, he drove toward the disused factory he called home. He had made a cozy, well for him, little safe haven in the very far corner of the roof. He figured somebody somewhere must still be paying for gas and water, because he was always able to get a hot shower. He didn’t really feel the need to eat anymore, but sometimes he would heat up a can of beans or a hot dog for old times sake. It was strangely cathartic for him.

He flipped the switch on his tiny, definitely shouldn’t still be working TV when he got home. He was met with a rerun of FRIENDS, he remembered how much Sister Anne had loved that show. How she used to sneak away during evensong to watch it in the Reverend Mother’s private apartment. She would tell Art about it the next day, and Art would recite the lines of characters he had never heard, just to make her laugh. He turned the TV off again. He made his way down to the shower block, stripping himself of his costume along the way. It really was cold outside now, he could see it in the whiteness of his breath as he exhaled under the heat of the shower. He didn’t necessarily remember what it was like to feel cold, but he liked to see the flesh pimple on his skin. He liked it when it happened on his victims too. Maybe it was an open window that did it, or his breath on their neck, but either way, it pleased him.

Art pulled at his mask, it resisted coming away from his skin and he pulled harder. Wincing as bit by bit, his flesh was revealed. It had been a long time since he had removed his mask, too. He let the water drip down his face, using his fingers to rub away months of neglect. In truth, Art had forgotten what he looked like. The mirrors in the shower block had long been smashed, and he had no desire to go outside without his mask, so he felt the contours of his face. His nose, nowhere near as pronounced, and cheekbones not as sallow. He recognised he was thin, as he moved his hands over his torso, he could feel his ribs under his calloused hands. Then, has he cupped his hands over his genitals to wash them, he remembered a flash of green eyes. Bright and dazzling in the night. The erection that he had fought so hard in the bar, reappeared and Art looked on impressed. Another thing he had forgotten about, the look of his cock as it jutted proudly, curving upwards slightly to better fill a pussy. Or an ass, he wasn’t fussy.

Experimentally, he stroked his length once. His head rolled back with a remembered pleasure. It all came back to him with that single stroke, how fucking good it felt. How fucking good it felt to be buried to the hilt in some sweet thing. How fucking good it felt to have someone’s lips wrapped around his end, gagging on his length. Art stroked himself again, this time letting his eyes flutter shut, this way he could imagine Daphne’s hand in place of his own. Imagine the kisses peppered down his back, and her other hand cupping and gently squeezing his balls. If he could moan, he would’ve and loudly. As soon as Art quickened his ministrations, he knew it would be over all too soon, so he stopped. He shut off the water and wrapped himself in a too small towel, trudging his way back to his room. There, he fished out the poster he had taken from the bar, a soft smile plagued his lips as he refreshed his memory of Daphne’s face. Climbing up onto his bed, or rather an old army cot he had found, he lay back, one hand on his cock- the other holding her picture up to the light. He gripped himself harder this time, like he used to like it. Art bared his teeth as he rubbed his finger over his tip, a surprising amount of liquid had emerged and he used it as a lubricant. Quickly, he moved onto his knees, he placed the poster of Daphne on the bed in front of him, and began fucking his hand. His hips moved quickly into his waiting fist, her eyes never leaving his as with a would be grunt, he ejaculated over his hand, spilling his cum over the poster. It dripped onto her face in big lumps. Years of his cock not being used, he deduced. He panted, exhausted. It was one thing swinging an axe around and another making yourself cum. Falling back onto the bed, he pulled the poster with him. Daphne’s smiling face now littered with his seed, inexplicably, he felt the flame of arousal burn deep in his core at the sight. He gently smeared it over her face, paying particular attention to her mouth, as if by some miracle he could shove it inside there. He longed to have her taste him, just as with that thought he longed to taste her. To have her wetness fill his mouth, cover his face and drip down his chin. He gently tapped his teeth, they were rotten, he knew that. But he wasn’t sure what Daphne would make of them, and in that moment he felt a pang of self consciousness. Resigning himself to sleep, he pulled his threadbare cover over his bare shoulders. He felt a contentedness he hadn’t felt since before he was, well, what he was. It felt different going to sleep that evening not full of rage, but with a lazy arousal that more than likely meant when he awoke, he could treat himself once more.

As he closed his eyes, he told himself that his plans for Sienna would have to wait. The rest of Art’s week would be spent in conserving energy for this next Thursday. He had a concert to catch.

#art the clown #terrifier #sienna shaw #art the clown x Sienna #art the clown x reader #art the clown x oc #art the clown fanfic #bellshells

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