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blingblong55 · 2 years ago

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Smoke Signals- COD MEN

This is based gonna request:

Angst?, Family issues, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA and possible R8pe.

Backstory:

It's a known fact to Price that you never had a relationship/bond with your family. You had the worst relationship with them. As a child they treated you like shit. Nothing but the worst. One time, you tried to explain to them what had happened to you at a party, they as always didn't believe you. You were triggered when others would touch your thighs, so when they knew this, they pinned you to the floor, touching you everywhere. Ever since, it had been you out in the world.

----

Any time you'd have to take time off because you "earned" it, you'd stay at base. Price was the man you told all of your problems to, he listened to it all. Always the shoulder you leaned on, on tough nights. The guy who would make a joke as you cried. To him you had become his own child. So when your family would sneak up on base and verbally harass you for not being there for them(always asked for money) price would have them escorted. He'd sent you to his office and you'd sit there with a therapist, his hand holding yours. Always squeezing it when he knew you'd be close to a bad memory.

It brought him pain when he watched you talk about the past, you were so use to the mistreatment your poor soul thought this was normal. And ever since you first shared a dark memory with him, he has been teaching you the right ways you should've been treated like.

One late night, Price, Ghost and Alejandro had a meeting. It extended further than they'd like. Soap, Gaz, Rudy and Kreuger were off base, they decided to treat themselves to a few drinks. You walked around base, waiting for anyone to hang around with you. Unfortunately, your family got passed security. Soon they found you, they started to say things to you. "look at you, such a weak thing." your father pushed you around.

"there is a reason why I nearly aborted you, such a disgrace"

Your siblings started to push your buttons. And suddenly as you closed your eyes, you were 7 years old again. You were back in your room, your arms protecting your poor weak figure. "Daddy please stop!" you begged, yours eyes shut as tears streamed down. "this si what you get for being such a disrespectful thing!" he kept hitting you.

"please mummy do something, it hurts."

You prayed and prayed, hoping someone would hear this and take you away. To somewhere safe, kind and far away. To and mum and a dad who would love you, who'd hold your hand when you were scarred.

You must've been lookin' for me Sendin' smoke signals Pelicans circling Burnin' trash out on the beach

"get away from them!" price rushed to you. The rest of the team trailed behind, confused as to why the captain was acting like this. But as they approached they saw you. You were sitting on the floor, holding yourself as tears ran down. Price kneeled down, his arms around you. "Ghost call security, get these fuckers out" he spitted.

"hey, listen to me, you're safe now. They are gone." he whispered as he rocked you in his arms. "I'm here, they won't hurt you again. r/n"

But you weren't responding. You pushed hi off, he stepped back. You started whispering, "M'sorry dad, it's my fault just please..please don't hit me." your voice cracked. Your hands started to travel around your skin, you started to grip onto it. Price knew you were close to having a breakdown. So against your wishes he picked you up and jogged to his office.

One of your eyes is always half-shut Somethin' happened when you were a kid I didn't know you then and I'll never understand Why it feels like I did

Through the night he stayed up, listening as you calmed yourself down. "you left me alone." you finally said, your gaze focused on him. "I know kid, and for that I am sorry."

"why did you leave me?" your voice was so soft, god it broke him a million times to hear you say this.

"I didn't mean to."

---------

It was a regular Friday. Price and the other commanding officers back at the meeting room. You were locked in your room. What can I say, you learn from mistakes after all. You grew hungry at around 5pm, the mess hall was closed. To all other soldiers, but price gave you a spare key. "have a go, just don't be hard on the ice cream, and save me some." he had told you. As you exited your room, your mother tapped your shoulder. "I believe we have to talk." And you walked inside your room again. They sat around, "so what is it?" you asked. "why are you so stubborn with us?" you were confused. "stubborn?"

"well we try and try to talk to you, but all you do is send us away. I mean I am your mother for god sakes, and all I want is for my child to love me!" She began to fake cry. It was typical for her. "mum-"

"no your mother is right, we have tried to reach out, we send stuff to you, and all you do is bitch about it to your commanders." you dad stood up, god you hated that look on his face. Unfortunately it was a emotion he carried everywhere.

"When have I done such bullshit? I was just a kid when you all decided I would be your personal punching bag, you fucking blamed me for shit I didn't do. I loved you all, forgave you for it all."

"those are stolen memories, you saw a show and what you say we did is fake." you mother said

"what?! that is such a fucking lie! I lived through all your hate! I was always the idiot to go back to you! I cried for you, I begged for you to love me and all you did was laugh at my face mother!"

"pity me pity me." your sibling mocked your voice. You were closer to crying this time.

"aren't you embarrassed? grown men have to protect you, I mean you are just another burden for them!"

"that. is not true! I have found a family here, we all understand each other, we respect one another and I would die for them" you opened the door from your room, stepping out.

Your "conversation" had become so loud your teammates came out of their rooms. They all stood around and watched as you started to crumble. As you marched out, your mother grabbed your arm. "this isn't over! You listen to me here-!"

"no you listen to me! I have had enough of all of you, with you shit memories, you always play hero mother, always and I am tired of your fake crying. And by the way you should be embarrassed, at your grown age acting like a child? God you are pathetic.!" Your voice cracked every now and then, you wiped your tears and continue to look at her.

Alejandro wanted to step in, but Soap pulled him back. Price started to make way to you. You dad slapped you across the face. "don't you ever disrespect your mother!" There is was, his goddamn devil face. If he wanted you he could kill ya.

"go ahead dad, beat me, do it! just like when I was a kid! You fucking piece of shit."

"I hope you fucking die!"

the men started to approach. Your mother pushed you to the floor, as you looked up at her an evil smile was smudged against her lips. It was the same look she gave you every time she would hit you hard.

And once more, you were a child.

"mummy please, please don't hit me! I love you mummy please!" but she did it, she'd hit you until you fell asleep. And then as she regained some energy she would pull out a cigarette, she would light two. One for her and one for your skin. Anytime she inhaled the smoke, she would burn your skin

You're cried, "you are seriously doing this again?" your voice cracked, it was so low that only she heard. You had given up once more.

And as your father started to take his belt off, Ghost tackled him. He punched him a few times. One of your siblings tried to push him off, but Sebastian (Krueger) held them and with one move he knocked them out. Price and Soap dragged your mother and other sibling out.

"We will be back and next time I come around you'll regret being being born!" Rodolfo and Alejandro held you in their arms.

Just checking out to hide from life And all of our problems, I'm gonna solve 'em With you ridin' shotgun Speeding 'cause fuck the cops

Soon all the men looked at you, "what?" you cheek was red, a hand print on it. Gaz came back with a pack of ice, "here, don't want ya pretty face to suffer." he jokingly said.

"yeah imagine having to kiss ya cheek goo'night with what could be a bruise,,,,yikes" soap said as he wrapped you in his arms. Alejandro smacked the back of his head as he said that, it caused a giggle to escape your lips. "Oi!" he responded.

And for the first time, you were able to admit that your family had become your annoying lover boys. For this was true family, your family.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Tags: @ruler-of-fandoms69

A/n: okay maybe this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but I really do hope you liked it!

Can’t sleep so here ya go!

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generallybarzy · 4 years ago

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If You'll Have Me Forever.

an: this is the little fic i decided to write based on a dream i had. I wrote it all in one day while I was at my grandparent's house with no internet or computer, so i wrote it all in my notebook and then typed it up on here haha.

warnings: unedited, mentions of past emotional trauma and unhealthy families

word count: 1.7k

You always loved spending time with Mat's family. Whenever there was a break in the season, you two quickly found yourselves on a plane out to Vancouver, holding hands in the airplane and in the car on the way to his parent's house.

It had been like this since your first summer with them. Mat had invited you home with him for part of the offseason, and although you'd only been dating almost a year and were still nervous to meet his family, you couldn't say no. His family had welcomed you warmly, in fact, warm may not even be good enough to describe it. His parents smiled as soon as they saw you- saw you holding their son's hand, saw him smile proudly as he finally introduced you to them as his girlfriend.

Then, they hugged you.

You hadn't come from a loving family, not one where you openly told each other "I love you" or "I'm proud of you", and certainly not one that hugged and had family game nights. After much discussion with Mat and with your therapist, you came to the conclusion that your family had been borderline emotionally neglectful, and you saw how your childhood had scarred you. Mat's family was so openly affectionate and loving towards you right off the bat that it overwhelmed you, to the point of you going upstairs and refusing to come down until Mat had a talk with you. He was understanding, gently told them to be a little more reserved, and helped to slowly ease you into their love. And that just made you love him even more.

Now, it was your first holiday season with them. After spending a good chunk of last summer in Vancouver, you were certainly excited to spend a few days of your winter here with them rather than in your empty little apartment. You and Mat had flown out the night before, and arrived early in the morning, grateful that the team had managed a few extra days off this season- just enough days to make a trip worth it. The whole day had been spent talking and laughing and just catching up with his family about the past year- how things were going with your studies, with your job, how Mat’s season was going, and how your relationship was going. Later in the evening, after a long round of some board game they’d pulled from the closet, the jet lag and overwhelming, unfamiliar feeling of familial love caught up to you. So, in the middle of preparing some snacks to munch on during the next round of the game, you faked a phone call and quickly excused yourself to the snowy back patio, slipping into your coat and snow boots on the way and disappearing out the door.

Mat had been keeping a close eye on you all night.

He knew how you got about affection, you were even still a little shy receiving love from him, and the last thing he wanted to do was let him or his family overwhelm you again. He had gone to talk with his dad for five minutes- about a topic that had him immediately searching for you to go hide away and get some much needed alone time- and when he came back to the living room, you weren’t where he left you with his mom and sister.

“Where’s (Y/N)?”

“Oh,” his mom looked up from preparing the food. “She stepped out back to take a phone call.”

“Yeah?” Mat snuck over to the backdoor, squinting out into the snow and spotting your figure, no phone in sight. He slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed his jacket from next to the door. “I think the jetlag might be stting in. I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out onto the back patio, the snow crunching beneath his fluffy slippers. You didn’t even turn when you heard the door close behind him, and that’s how he knew something was wrong.

“Baby… what are you doing out in the cold?” He came up next to you, curling an arm over your shoulders. “Were they too much? Should I tell them to back off a bit?” Finally, you turned to face him. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a soft little smile on your face. “Aw, baby.”

“I love them so much, Mat.”

“C’mere.” He pulled you against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your cold arms. You curled your arms around his waist, snuggling in under his winter jacket. “Babe, you should be wearing something heavier out here. I don’t want you getting sick.” Still, you stayed where you were, tucked into his jacket with him and hiding away from the snow and the world. “I’m glad you love my family so much. I hope you can tell they love you too. And if they’re too much, I’ll tell them, okay?”

“I know.”

“Just let me know. I know how you get uncomfortable when you receive this much love, but I hope you know you deserve it, okay? You’re absolutely amazing.” At his words, you lifted your face from the comfort of his chest, eyes red and face hot, streaked with tears. Snowflakes melted on impact, and Mat’s thumb brushed away the wetness. “Please don’t cry, baby.”

“I’m just… so overwhelmed. In the best way possible, I promise.”

“That’s good.”

“And I’m getting sleepy.”

“Jetlag finally catching up to you?” You nodded, burrowing back into the warmth of his jacket. He smiled, squeezing you against him. “Let’s go to bed, yeah, sweetheart?”

“Nooooo, I just wanna stay like this.”

“Okay, okay.” He smiled and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll stay out here for a little, but we gotta go in when you get cold.” Mat knew the reason you didn’t want to go back inside yet. One, because you didn’t want to cry in front of his family, but also because after spending the whole day with them, you were starved of sweet, gentle moments like this, alone with Mat. He knew you loved his family, but God, how you loved him. You’d been holding back all your hugs and kisses today, keeping low on the PDA in front of his family, and you’d gotten needy. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his parents, saying the two of you were gonna be done for the night and wanted a little alone time, and he knew they’d understand and head to bed. The snow was picking up now, so Mat put his phone back in his pocket and pulled you with him against the wall of the house, your arms tucked under his fuzzy coat and holding tight around his waist, watching the snow fall and enjoying the comforting silence of the world.

“Do you know how much people love you?”

“Mat…” You smiled and hid your face shyly.

“No, do you know? Everyone who meets you falls a little bit in love with you. Everyone. You just have this… this loveable nature to you/ You’re the sweetest, kindest, most amazing person I know.” You didn’t respond, but Mat saw the smile on your face and felt the way your arms squeezed around his torso. “Remember how earlier, I was talking to my dad? You know what he was saying? He said ‘the way you look at (Y/N), that’s how I looked at your mom’. And how he still does.” That got your attention, and you lifted your face to look at him, at the pretty, genuine love in his dark eyes. “Hey, there’s that pretty face!” Your hands slid further up his back, and you perched up on your tiptoes, reaching up for a soft kiss that Mat gladly met you halfway for. “I’m serious when I say I love you, okay?”

“I know.”

“I get that you didn’t have the best relationship with your family, and they weren’t the healthiest, especially when it came to showing these types of emotions, but I’m gonna make sure you get used to it. Cause you’re gonna be in my life for a long, long time.”

“Forever?”

“If you’ll have me forever.”

Everything went silent, save for the soft falling of snow, at that whispered promise. The tears filled your eyes again, just so, so happy that you had someone like Mat in your life, and that he was so understanding and patient with you.

“If you’ll have me forever, my family would be more than happy to call you one of us. You could spend all your birthdays, holidays, and celebrations here, and they’d love you. I’d love you. I do. You’d never feel unloved again, if you’ll have me forever.”

“Mat are... Are you proposing?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. Not yet, not officially. Just take this as a… warning.”

You laughed a little bit. “A warning, Mat?”

“No, ugh… um, how about a promise. Yeah, a promise. A promise that if you’ll have me forever, I’ll do nothing but show you how damn loveable you are. I know I can’t erase the years of pain… God, or the trauma that your family put you through, but I promise you I’m gonna try my hardest. You deserve so much better than what they’d given to you, and I’ll give that to you.” Mat saw the tears in your eyes and swooped down to kiss your cheeks repeatedly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make you cry, baby.” He could say so, so much more, but he wanted to take care of you first. “Enough of my sappy rambling, yeah? My toes are freezing. Can we go in?” He saw you glance down at his feet and immediately started giggling.

“Nice slippers, grandpa.”

“They’re cozy.” He grinned, happy to see you smiling again. He had grabbed his dad’s shoes to come out, knowing you found his silly dad-fashion funny. “Now, let’s get to bed, sleepyhead.” He pulled you back into the warm, quiet house and led the way up to his bedroom, happy to finally have some time to just cuddle up under the blankets along with you. But as you fell asleep, tucked safely in his arms with a content, peaceful smile, he could fall asleep along with you. Instead, he lay there, watching you for hours, his thoughts filled with his dad’s words from earlier and quietly, secretly, he was writing long lines of phrases he wanted to say to you, phrases that would one day become part of his proposal.

I promise I’ll keep you safe, I promise I’ll keep you smiling and loved... if you’ll have me forever.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #op #fic

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snowstark · 3 years ago

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Growing Wings.

READ ON AO3 For @starkerfestivals | Fill: Mafia AU “Don’t fucking touch me,” Tony snarls, grabbing Peter’s wrists to rip them off of him. “Then don’t fucking talk,” Peter spits back. Tony growls and shoves him back, but Peter just pushes right up against him again, getting in his space. He can feel his warm breath on his face as he snarls, “You think I wanna hear your fucking voice after you left like that? Tell me why I shouldn’t just punch your lights out right now." And ouch, that kind of hurts. Tony shoves him off, jeering, “Well, you wouldn’t want to break my nose, sweetheart, we both know how much you love my pretty face.” “Yeah, enough to want to spit on it, maybe.” S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t the worst place to work. Tony’s been there for a while now, and he gets along just fine. Then, he gets sent back to a world that he thought he’d never return to. I have now achieved a blackout, yay! Thank you to @vaguekiwi for beta'ing!

The barstools are mahogany. They blend into the red-brown wood of the bar, illuminated by the glow of lights behind the bottles. The people blend in, too—clinking glasses and flashing scars as subtle hands exchange wads of bills and tight packets of pot, mingling amidst the sharp smell of whiskey and beer between them; leather jackets that conceal switchblades and guns, hung on large shoulders and frames like bedsheets on a king-sized bed. It all paints a cohesive picture, barely anything out of place.

Except for the boy sitting at the edge of the bar. The Parker heir.

He barely looks legal. Pink cheeks, scruffy brown hair, and pretty pink lips sipping at his daiquiri. There’s a fat golden ring on his index finger. He’s dressed to fit in, but with his youthful face and frilly drink, he looks more like he’s wearing daddy’s clothes than anything.

Tony wants to ruin him.

He wants to grab him by the scruff and drag him down from the throne he’ll be stepping up to and pull him into a kiss, wants to feel the heat of his breath on his neck, wants to… buy him a drink.

“That one’s on me.” Tony pulls a chair out to sit next to the boy, and opens his mouth to order a beer when— no. “Sex on the beach,” he tells the bartender, and gets a weird look from the both of them, accompanied by a smirk lacing the boy’s lips. Otherwise, silence. He waits for his drink to be fixed before taking a sip from it, swirling the liquid in the glass loftily before saying, “Want a taste?”

“Not unless it’s from your mouth.” Parker’s voice is pretty. It reminds Tony of a mockingbird’s song, a sound of nature itself, with each word spilling from his mouth a pretty melody.

Tony lifts his eyebrows. “What, you don’t want a pretty babe to take home?”

The Parker boy pointedly takes a sip from his daiquiri.

Tony feels his lips curve into a smile. Okay. He gets it. He’s pretty sure he sees the other’s eyes crinkle a bit too at the corners. “Tony,” he finally says.

“Peter.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Pretty name for a pretty boy. You got someone to take care of you, treat you like you’re a diamond?”

“I am a diamond.” Peter tips his head back to take the rest of his daiquiri into his mouth in one large gulp. “And I can find someone to come and make me shine whenever I want.”

“Lucky guy, finding a gem in all this dirt.” Tony keeps his attention on the ice cubes clinking in his glass. “Makes me wonder if that’s what you come here for.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter set his empty glass down. He swipes the tip of his index finger along the rim of the glass, then pops it between his lips to suck on it before turning to face Tony, leaning in. He lets his hands rest gingerly on Tony’s shoulder, just barely gripping as he breathes into his ear, “Why don’t we take this home, Tony?”

Tony likes the way he says his name.

He thinks he’ll like it even more when Peter’s moaning it.

He lifts his gaze to meet Peter’s. Peter doesn’t budge, only pulling back the slightest bit, nose a few inches away from Tony’s. Tony watches his eyelashes flutter with each blink. It’s like a swan taking flight, feathers fluttering in the air and daring Tony to reach up to snag one for himself—a keepsake, or a trophy.

His lips quirk up when Peter gives him a look, clearly saying, well? Tony licks the lingering taste of his drink away from his lips so he can replace it with Peter. “Think your father’ll approve?”

Tony knows he won’t. Peter knows that too.

Peter smiles. “We’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t we?” His hands slide down to fist the front of Tony’s shirt and pull him out of his seat by it.

Tony barely remembers to toss a wad of bills onto the counter before he’s guided out of the bar.

-- -- --

Tony’s in the process of sticking a piece of gum underneath the briefing table when the meeting finally ends. Fury talked for a painfully long time today. Tony’s pretty sure he even saw Rogers’ eyes close a few times, and everyone knows that if Rogers is dozing, the situation’s bad.

His left foot’s fallen asleep. He stomps it subtly a few times before getting up from his seat. The room’s clearing out now, agents talking to each other and chuckling as they shuffle through the doorway. Tony stops by the door, letting Rumlow pass through before turning to Fury, who’s now digging through a box of donuts.

“You know,” Tony says when Fury doesn’t acknowledge him, “might be good for team morale if you actually share your snacks with everyone. Oh, and you know what? We really gotta work on these outfit designs. I mean, how do you expect us to get the job done when half of us are fighting a wedgie?”

Fury’s quiet for a few moments, but it doesn’t faze Tony. Fury’s either astronomically loud or terrifyingly quiet; there’s no in between.

Finally, he speaks. “Found the meeting boring, Stark?” Fury’s eye flicks up to him as he takes a monstrous bite from the donut. It sends sprinkles raining down onto the table and floor for some poor janitor to take care of later.

“Always is, Sir,” Tony replies.

“I’ll always wonder why I let someone with the attention span of a goldfish sign up.”

“Maybe because this goldfish has brought the most innovative ideas you’ve seen in the past three decades.” Tony reaches to snag a donut from the box, but Fury slaps his hand away. It hurts.

“You know, I caught wind of something new today. Toomes.”

Tony blinks. “We don’t deal with people like him.”

He doesn’t deal with people like him. Not anymore.

Fury carries on like he hasn’t even spoken. “Word has it that the Toomes are deep in debt with the Parker family. The Parkers want to collect; you think Toomes is just gonna hand over a small fortune that easily?”

Tony feels his heart leap into his throat at the words.

Parker. Parker. Parker. He repeats the name over and over in his head, and realizes that he’s been silent for a second too long. Fury’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow as he takes a fierce bite from his donut.

“Probably not,” he manages, sounding as dumb as he feels.

Fury sucks sugar off of one of his fingers. “It’s allegedly reported that Toomes’ men are going in to get rid of their debt through unconventional means.”

“They’re not paying them off.”

Fury snorts. “Hell, no. They’re going in to get rid of the Parkers. Which includes our little asset, Rumlow. Member of the Parker family since before the boy even became kingpin, he’s been… interested in testifying against the family if it means he gets a lesser sentence to bite him in the ass later. He’s the weak link in the family, and we need him alive.” He dusts his hands off. “Barnes has already volunteered to infiltrate the Parkers at the higher levels, but we need more people to go in, hang around at their front and get them talking.”

“Best of luck to them.” Tony swallows and looks away furtively.

Fury makes a disgruntled noise in his throat. “Rogers will step in if no one else wants the gig—seems eager to, actually—but really, Stark, I’m bringing this up because I thought you might be interested.”

“Me,” Tony repeats, fighting back the urge to swallow. His mind jumps to skin on skin, fingers lacing together amongst soft silky bed sheets.

“Sure.” Fury shrugs. “You think fast on your feet, and you know how to get out of sticky situations if anything goes south. You know it’s not every day that I offer an agent a job like this—it’s your chance to prove yourself, Stark.”

Tony sucks the inside of his cheek.

“We only need someone to watch Barnes’ back, sit around the area and report back if there’s an issue. It should be easy for someone like you, just mingling with the associates of the family, indulging in their favourite hobbies, bonding, you know how it goes.”

Does he?

“I…” Tony trails off. His eyes flick down to the box of donuts, lingering there for a few moments. Fury actually nudges it open for him, like it’s positive reinforcement for considering the gig. “Can I tell you my decision tomorrow?”

Fury grunts.

Tony takes that as a ‘yes’ and hurries out before Fury can say anything else.

-- -- --

It still smells the same, Tony realizes. Leather and alcohol accompanied by raucous laughter and cigarettes and money. It feels the same, too. The barstools haven’t changed, except the leather is cracked now. He runs his fingers over it. It’s like a scar, if someone ripped off a wing and let the flesh mould over with new skin.

He orders himself a drink. The bartender makes quick work of it and Tony gives her a nod of thanks before taking it from her. At least it’s not the same bartender.

It only takes him a few minutes to empty the glass. He signals for another, then turns ever so slightly to side-eye the big hunk of meat next to him. It’s not a face that he recognizes, and he’s not sure if he’s more disappointed or relieved by that fact.

Probably relieved.

“Long day?” he sighs, knowing as soon as the words come out of his mouth that it’s a stupid thing to say. It sounds green, sounds like two suburban dads at the bar of a family restaurant.

Tony gets completely ignored for his trouble. Okay, fair enough. He’s gotten rusty—which is good, he reminds himself.

He needs another drink.

He downs it in a few big swallows, which catches the attention of a couple people in the bar. He gulps past the burn and it means his voice rasps a bit when he tries again. “I had a run last night up on 116th, got jumped by like, ten guys.” He hesitates before adding, “I think they were with Toomes or something.”

He gets a few more eyes, and some heads tilting in his direction. Okay, interest. No engagement yet, but that’s okay.

Tony’s grip tightens around the glass in his hand and he plunges ahead. “Heard they’re gonna take a run at us about their debt to—” don’t say his name, he could at least pretend that wasn’t real right now “—to the boss. Think your head’ll be one of the ones they cut off?”

That gets the big guy to turn to him, a scowl on his face. “Toomes would be lucky to snip even one lock of my hair,” he growls. And, admittedly, the man has great hair.

“Hey, new guy!” Five others have swivelled in their seats, and one has his eyes fixed on Tony. “Toomes really planning something against the family?”

Tony smirks triumphantly and motions toward the bartender. “I’ll tell you all about it, friends. Drinks are on me.”

-- -- --

Peter lets out a soft yelp as Tony practically tackles him onto the bed, dragging him into a kiss. Peter’s fingers fumble as he yanks off his jacket and shirt, moaning against his lips, and Tony helps him out of them. He hears the sound of Peter’s pants dropping to the floor and his lips part in anticipation. It’s exhilarating to take apart Peter’s exterior piece by piece to reveal what’s inside, to take it for himself and ravish it.

“That hurts, you asshole,” Peter laughs as Tony nips from his jaw to his collarbone. Tony ignores him, just sucking a mark onto the pale expanse of skin right above his collarbone, and then twisting to kiss Peter.

Peter gasps into the kiss, and Tony swallows his noises up hungrily like his life depends on it. Peter gives a small whine and pushes him. Tony falls back onto the bed with a confused noise, propping himself up on his elbow. “What?” he pants. “You don’t— is something wrong?”

“No, ‘s just—” Peter licks his lips, cheeks flushed bashfully now. “You still have your shirt on.”

“Huh?” Tony looks down and feels a small smile tugging at his lips at the realization that Peter’s right. “Oh.” He swipes his hair back with a hand, flustered, and Peter bursts into laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Peter tells him teasingly, already reaching forward. He makes quick work of Tony’s clothes with clumsy, eager fingers, yanking and tugging at buttons and zippers before copying Tony’s actions from earlier, dusting a few kisses onto his jaw. Tony tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut again, settling back into that warm, fuzzy place in his head where everything he can feel and see and smell and taste is Peter.

Peter’s touches are more hesitant than his, less experienced, maybe. It makes him wonder if Peter’s ever really done more than make out with someone, or if he’s ever even been in bed with another guy.

His suspicions are confirmed when Peter pulls back the slightest bit and whispers, “Is this okay?” as he lets a hand slip down, eyes flicking up to his face uncertainly.

He’s younger than Tony; they’re both young, but Tony likes the idea of teaching Peter from scratch, moulding him from untouched putty to a sinning angel, claiming what’s his. He gives a small smile through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah,” he breathes, “you’re more than okay.”

It’s like the words settle the apprehension in Peter, because he relaxes, tense shoulders dropping in what’s probably relief. Tony doesn’t like the idea of Peter worrying when he’s supposed to be enjoying, so he just grabs him and flips him over, eliciting a surprised, “Oof!” from him. He grinds down on Peter, watching delightedly as Peter lets out an obscene moan, and he clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Thought you said we gotta stay quiet,” he whispers.

Peter licks the palm of his hand to coax it off of him. “We are quiet.”

“Not you,” Tony teases.

Peter scowls. “Fuck off.”

Tony kisses the pouty look off of his face. It slides away easily once his lips are slotted against Peter’s, wet and sloppy.

And then Peter surges up in a bout of energy, and Tony falls back with a surprised noise. “I wanna,” Peter pants as he dusts kisses on Tony’s neck, nuzzling and nipping, “I wanna— I want you to make me—”

Peter steals his breath from him with each kiss until his chest is tight and Tony has to push him away the slightest bit to gasp, “Your father— last chance to—”

Neither of them give a shit about Peter’s father. It’s foreplay at best, now. The thrill of getting caught, the feeling of ecstasy as they touch what’s forbidden, snagging an apple from the garden, it only urges them on like fuel added to fire.

“Still in the family, aren’t you?” Peter plays along, hands sliding down to Tony’s hips. “Least you’re not a fed.”

Tony barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he agrees breathlessly. “Least ‘m not a fed.”

And then he takes Peter for himself, drinking in every little noise he makes as hunger ravishes his body, basking in the dove’s pretty noises.

-- -- --

“Another one!”

They all burst into laughter as the big blond guy—Thor, apparently—smashes his glass on the floor of the bar. The bartender rolls her eyes. Broken kitchenware isn’t a scarcity with Thor around here.

Tony’s not drunk. He’s spilled a couple of drinks instead of downing them, and he’s been sneaking refills of water instead of alcohol when he can. And, he can hold his liquor well. He’s not willing to risk his job to indulge himself.

He has, however, gotten the others to drink their fair share. They’re red-faced and all they can do is roar with laughter. It reminds him of how he used to do this too, come into the bar and share a drink or two before rushing off to press his lips to fair skin as hands push through his hair. For a split second, he feels a pang of longing in his chest.

He instantly forgets about it when Thor claps him on the chest. “Our— Our heads!” he booms, then snorts. “Toomes better watch out; we could step on ‘im even like this, crush his puny skull with our boots.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” another guy snorts, elbowing Thor in the side. “Don’t you ‘member what happened last time? Parker had a nosebleed for days.”

The words make Tony jerk in his seat before he even realizes it, and then he turns back around. “Yeah, yeah, Rumlow better watch out, heard he’s a popular target,” he chuckles in an effort to regain his composure, lifting his hand to signal for another drink.

��Rumlow?” An unfamiliar voice sounds and they all turn around.

It’s another face that Tony doesn’t recognize, and it makes him realize once again just how long it’s actually been since he was last here. He takes a quiet sip from his drink, and the guy narrows his eyes at Tony.

Maybe he’s been here too long. He wants to check his watch, but he refrains.

“Rumlow ain’t here,” the guy says. He doesn’t budge, preventing Tony from sliding out of his seat. “Boss sent him to Siberia two days ago. I would know, ‘m his partner.”

One of the guys snorts. “You sure, Rollins? Last I heard, you two went through a little break-up. Did he dump you, or was it the other way around, big guy?”

There’s a loud cracking noise, and the guy falls off his seat, clutching a bloody nose. “Jesus fuck!”

They have the attention of the whole bar now, and yep, this has officially gone downhill. Like, to the depths of the earth, to the underworld where Hades resides type of bad. Tony can feel the palms of his hands getting sweaty.

Rollins gives Tony a lingering look. “What did you say your name was?”

Fuck. And that’s his cue to leave.

He tosses a wad of bills onto the counter, then says, “I gotta get home.”

“He didn’t say his name.” It’s Thor now, staring at Tony with wide, suspicious eyes now.

Tony would rather not get into a fight with Thor, or any of the guys here, really. They’re all massive.

He needs to get the fuck out of here and go straight to Fury to ask him what the hell is going on, because what does Rolllins mean Rumlow is in fucking Siberia?

“You need to see the boss,” Rollins says, and that’s the only warning Tony gets before the front of his shirt is roughly snatched in a massive paw.

“Whoa, whoa, big guy, I’m sorry—my name’s Anthony Howard; didn’t mean anything by it; just heard stuff about Toomes. Look, I really do gotta get home—”

And then Rollins yanks, making him trip forwards, and then there are hands gripping his shoulders and his wrists are being yanked behind his back like he’s getting arrested. He’s dragged off, and he prays that whoever the boss is, it’s not him.

But he knows that it is, and there’s no way he can avoid it now.

-- -- --

Tony’s there when Peter’s father is gutted like a fish.

He wraps his arms around the boy, letting him scream and cry until he’s exhausted, throat raw and scratchy from how hard he’s worked it. His cries sound more like the shrieks of a crow by the end of it, and Tony runs a hand down his spine in an effort to soothe him.

“You’re okay,” he says, voice low, and Peter shudders and shakes his head in a small, jerky movement. He doesn’t believe it yet, but Tony knows he will be.

He doesn’t stop to wonder whether they’ll be alright.

He’s there when Peter steps up.

He’s there when Peter rules like the king he was meant to be.

He’s there when Peter ruthlessly rips off the wings of the mockingbird inside himself to lock them up in a cage and leave them to rot. He’s there when Peter transforms into an eagle, a bird of prey; he’s there when Peter stops singing.

Until one night, he’s not there. He’s slipping out of the compound, silent as a field mouse running away from an eagle under the gaze of the silver moonlight.

And he’s not there when Peter wakes up.

-- -- --

At first glance, Tony thinks Peter looks the same. But then he takes a second look, and he sees that he’s grown a bit taller, his face isn’t as youthful, and he has a small, healed scar on his cheekbone, just a faint white line. Most people wouldn’t even notice it, but it catches Tony’s attention right away, and he hates himself for it, hates that he has the memory of Peter’s face etched into his brain.

Peter’s men don’t even get a chance to say anything, because the moment Peter’s eyes land on Tony’s face, his lip curls up and he barks, “Out!”

They fumble for a moment, like they’re not sure whether they should be dragging Tony out of the room too, but when Peter’s scowl grows, they scuttle out with their tails tucked between their legs. Tony sneers at their backs.

Peter strides forward and Tony clenches his jaw in preparation for what he knows is coming.

The moment the door slams shut, Peter flies into action. He grabs the front of Tony’s shirt and shoves him against the wall.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Tony snarls, grabbing Peter’s wrists to rip them off of him.

“Then don’t fucking talk,” Peter spits back.

Tony growls and shoves him back, but Peter just pushes right up against him again, getting in his space. He can feel his warm breath on his face as he snarls, “You think I wanna hear your fucking voice after you left like that? Tell me why I shouldn’t just punch your lights out right now.”

And ouch, that kind of hurts. Tony shoves him off, jeering, “Well, you wouldn’t want to break my nose, sweetheart, we both know how much you love my pretty face.”

“Yeah, enough to want to spit on it, maybe.”

“You sure you don’t want me to be doing that to you? Wouldn’t get off on it, wouldn’t blow a load the moment I touch you? Happened way too much in the past, didn’t it? Don’t wanna relive those memories, honey? And this scar—” Tony reaches out, not even flinching when Peter tries to slap him away “—what happened here, huh? Fell off the swingset when Daddy wasn’t here to watch you?”

Peter pulls a face of disgust at his words, and Tony almost barks out a laugh, which would’ve incensed him more. It almost makes him wish he had; he knows how much Peter hates when he calls himself daddy. Almost as much as he hates being called kid.

Tony presses his thumb onto the scar when he gets no response, and Peter smacks his hand down to snap, “Just the result of the last guy who walked out on us. He came out a lot worse than me; should’ve done the same to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony lifts his eyebrow tauntingly. “Then why didn’t you, huh? Did I wear you out too much, princess? Didn’t have it in you for round two? Should’ve known; pretty little thing like you wouldn’t have been able to handle it anyway—”

Tony falls back with a grunt when Peter tackles him, hands flying up to wrench him off. Except now he feels lips roughly mouthing at his neck. And then Peter snarls, “Get yourself out of these fucking clothes, I fucking hate you, always making shit harder.”

“Then ask nicely, kid,” Tony bites back. Peter’s head jerks at the pet name, nostrils flaring, and Tony triumphantly shoves him off enough to yank off his own shirt. He stumbles with how hard he pulls, and then there are hands that are tugging too, helping him out of it, and he grunts, “No fuckin’ patience at all, should’ve known you’d be begging to gag on my dick before you even—”

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up.” Peter throws the shirt behind himself before throwing himself at Tony again.

His nails bite harshly into Tony’s skin, making him hiss between clenched teeth. “Put those damn claws away, Christ.” He shoves Peter back again and they stumble together against the wall, then fumble for another moment as Peter wrestles out of his own shirt.

The moment the shirt drops to the floor, discarded like a feather floating to the ground, Tony grabs Peter’s shoulders and manhandles him over to his desk. He manages to get him bent over it despite the kicking and thrashing that Peter puts up, but Tony knows Peter, knows that he isn’t fighting as hard as he can, knows that he wants Tony to wrestle with him. There’s also no denying the fact that despite the years that have passed and hardened them both, Tony’s still larger and stronger than Peter, and Peter loves it. Tony can see it in his eyes; he’s practically feral every time he rests his eyes on Tony.

“Remember the last time we did this?” Tony laughs roughly, pressing flush against him as he bends over, caging him in with his arms. Peter snarls and jerks his head back, but Tony easily avoids it. He pinches the back of his neck harshly in reprimand and Peter chokes, straining against him. Tony lets him gasp and heave for a moment before licking a hot, wet stripe from his neck to his ear. “You think you can scream as loudly as you did then for me right now, sweetheart?”

“Over my dead body,” Peter gasps.

“Not the biggest turn-on.” In a lightning-fast movement, Tony rips Peter’s pants off. The button goes flying and Peter hisses.

“That was expensive, you asshole!”

Tony opens his mouth to snap back, but then his breath catches in his throat at the sight of the red lace. Peter’s face has gone a shade that’s equally as bright and he snarls in Tony’s grasp.

“Ohhh,” Tony says, beginning to laugh, and it sounds mean, which only serves to aggravate Peter even more. “This is why you were fighting so hard, huh? Little prissy Parker, wearing fuckin’ panties like you have someone to strut for?”

“Shut. Up,” Peter grits out.

Tony grins, feeling a sadistic little ball of heat furling in his gut, and he leans in to breathe, “Make me,” before cracking a hand down on his ass. The sound is loud, ringing throughout the whole room, and Peter keens. He’s pushing back against Tony like he can’t help himself now, spine curving nicely in a way that makes Tony want to kiss every inch of his body.

Tony slots his hips against his ass, grinding down and letting out a low growl in his throat. “That’s right. That’s fuckin’ right. Can’t make me, can you? Bet’chu wanted this so badly, can never help yourself, can you? C’mon, little mockingbird, admit it—it doesn’t feel as good when you’re on your own, I get it, I—”

He does get it. He’s forgotten how good they are together, and years apart only riles him up further, gets him wanting more, more, more. He knows Peter feels the same, and now, he wants to hear him say it.

“Tell me you want this,” he growls, and Peter jerks in his grasp. “Tell me,” he repeats, cracking a hand down on his ass, “you want this.”

“Fuck off,” Peter grits, but Tony can hear it, the desperation and arousal in his voice.

“Tell me you want it, let me fucking hear it.” He brings his hand down in earnest, making Peter gasp. His ass turns a dusty pink as he jerks and whines in his grip. Tony can see his cock growing harder by the minute, encased by lace. “C’mon, lemme hear it, what’s the matter, kid? Cat got your tongue? No point in hiding, you know, we know you want it, probably been waiting for this moment for years now. Bet you put fuckin’ panties on every day hoping I’d see them.”

He punctuates his words with smacks, hand cracking loudly and ringing through the room, and Tony bites out, “C’mon, sweetheart, you being shy ‘cause you don’t want me to fuck you? Or are you still thinking about that time I nearly let you fuck me? That was a fucking mistake, wasn’t it? You got a hungry fuckin’ hole, you think your dick would’ve lasted more than a minute in my—”

“I want it!” Peter finally gasps, tears in his eyes. “I want it, I want it, I want you to fuck me, I want your hands on me, I want you to fucking take me, take me, fuck me—”

“Fuck!” Tony sees red. He fumbles with the zipper of his pants, yanking it down as fast as he can.

“Jerk,” Peter pants. “You’re a fucking asshole, bastard, selfish piece of shit, cock-sucking fed—mmph!” He chokes when Tony slaps a hand over his mouth.

“The mouth on you, kid, Christ!” Tony pulls back, then tears off his panties with his hands. Peter jerks from his position, rearing up again, but Tony puts a stop to whatever he’s about to do by shoving him back down with a grip on his neck. He roughly makes Peter turn his head, then mocks, “If you can’t learn to say nice things, then you shouldn’t say anything at all.”

Peter doesn’t fight him—as much as he expected him to, at least—when he balls the panties up in his hand and stuffs them into his mouth. Tony laughs when Peter’s face flushes, and he taunts, “Can’t even spit and snarl like you want to anymore, can you?” Peter jerks in his grasp again, and Tony bites his shoulder in reprimand. “‘s okay,” he says against his skin, grinning, “I gotcha.”

He brings his hand down on his ass again, admiring how pink it turns, and then starts roughly opening the drawers of his desk. His other hand is gripping Peter’s wrists behind his back, pinning him down. Peter’s breathing is raw and heavy in his throat even with the garment in his mouth, but there’s no denying how hard his dick is, and nothing delights Tony more than that.

“Lube,” he mutters impatiently under his breath, digging through the drawers. “Don’t tell me you don’t have fucking lube.”

Peter makes an indignant noise that Tony disregards.

When he finds it tucked under a stack of envelopes, he rips the small packet open. He presses his lubed fingers to Peter’s hole, and Peter jerks, then pushes back against him.

“Fuckin’ hungry for it, aren’t you?” Tony mutters as he works a finger in. “You know what hasn’t changed? How tight your fucking hole is.”

Peter moans behind the panties in his mouth, thighs shaking as Tony works him open. He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either—just the way Peter likes it.

Tony’s pumping three fingers in and out of his hole by the time Peter makes a muffled noise. It sounds suspiciously like, “Hurry up,” but he can’t know for sure, and he doesn’t care to know either—Peter would kill him if he stopped to ask. So he just pinches Peter’s cheek, making him groan, before straightening.

He spits in his hand and brings it down to his cock, pumping it a few times. Peter twists to look at him, eyes blown and heavy, and Tony smirks. “Cock-drunk little thing,” he drawls, seeing the spark that ignites in Peter’s eyes at his words.

Tony squeezes Peter’s hip as he presses the head of his cock to his hole. It slips in easily, rim fluttering around him, and Tony hisses out a small, “Shit,” before pushing in slowly.

Peter gives a muffled moan, just taking it, and Tony pants, “Good boy,” before he lets his hips roll.

It’s slow at first, but then they pick up the pace once Peter starts making little noises in his throat, even pushing back to meet him halfway. It’s heaven to Tony, to feel Peter all around him like this, even more so when he gets to grip his hips and mark him up.

“You know,” Tony pants after a while, fingers digging into Peter’s skin hard enough to bruise, “it’s almost too boring with you so quiet. Maybe I should just—” He reaches out, and takes the panties from his mouth.

Peter’s moans and gasps fill up the room immediately, and Tony gives him a sloppy grin in return for the glare he gets. “There we go. But I don’t want to just carry this, so let’s…” He stuffs the panties into Peter’s hand, then guides them down to his dick. “I want you to wrap your filthy panties around your filthy cock and make a fucking mess of them.”

There’s no hiding how turned on Peter is by that; his eyelashes flutter and his lips part in a silent moan. Tony snaps his hips up, and Peter moans, jumping into action. “I fucking hate you,” he pants, even as he follows Tony’s order.

Tony laughs and gives one of his cheeks another spank. “I know,” he grins, then lets his hips pick up the pace. He digs his nails into one cheek, and Peter moans so loudly that he’s pretty sure the entire fucking room shakes. “Sing any louder than that, ‘n you’re gonna have people comin’ in to see you fuckin’ impaled on my dick, crying like a kid who just found his lost stuffie,” Tony taunts in his ear.

Peter gives a snarl, but there’s no real fight in his body; he just wants Tony and they both know it.

Tony closes his eyes, head lolling back and lips parting as he works his hips fast until he’s pounding Peter’s ass hard enough to jostle his whole body. Peter mewls, fumbling as he jerks himself off, still gripping his panties in a vice-grip, and the mere sight of him nearly tips Tony over the edge.

“So— fucking— filthy—” he gasps, bending over to press as flush as he can against Peter, skin on skin, damp with sweat. He mouths at his neck and shoulders, trying to take every inch of Peter that he can.

“P-Plea— O-Oh, god, fuck, fuck—” Peter whimpers, and the sound goes straight to Tony’s cock.

Tony hisses, “Fuck, ‘m gonna—” before he interrupts himself with a loud groan that rips from his throat, raw and heavy. He lets his hips slow as he rides through the wave of ecstasy that crashes over him, only pulling out once he gets too sensitive.

Peter’s a mewling, sweaty mess over his desk, fingers scrabbling to grip something, anything. Tony slides a hand through his damp hair to pull his head back and places a hand over Peter’s, which is still working feebly over his own cock, and he says roughly, “Lemme help, kid, can’t even do it yourself, can you? Too dumb to even think, shouldn’t have expected so much from you.”

Peter keens at the words, and Tony’s pretty sure he’s drooling on his desk. Tony lets his strokes quicken, the lacy fabric of the panties sliding wetly over the head of his dick, and Peter lets out a breathy moan. “I— I— P-Please—”

“No one’s stopping you, baby, c’mon, lemme see it.” Tony leans in and licks a wet, broad stripe between his cheeks, tasting himself mingled with the taste of Peter, and then Peter’s coming with a loud wail.

He shoots strings of white over their hands and his panties, now completely ruined and sloppy, and he gives up—gives in—entirely to let Tony jack him off through it, coaxing whines and whimpers out of him.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps after a few moments, squirming to get free, and Tony cracks a hand down, keeping him there until he’s begging incoherently, blathering for Tony to fuckstoppleasekeepgoing oh god—

Tony falls back onto the floor, completely exhausted as the weight of what they just did slaps him in the face, and Peter follows suit, collapsing on top of him.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the sound of their breaths coming in rough gasps. Erratic exhales fill up the space between them, and Tony closes his eyes as Peter turns his head the slightest bit. He starts kissing his way up Tony’s body, from his knee to his hip to his chest and his neck.

When it slows to a stop, Tony lets his head fall to the side and is shocked to find Peter’s eyes damp and glossy. “Baby,” he whispers, feeling himself go cold. He’s only ever seen Peter cry once before. “What’s wrong?”

Peter’s eyes fall shut and he shakes his head. The silence stretches out longer and Tony’s fully convinced that he’s lost his voice when Peter finally speaks. “Stay,” he croaks. He reaches out and finds Tony’s hand, then grips it tightly. “Don’t leave me.”

Not again, are the unspoken words, and Tony knows it.

Tony looks down at him to meet his shiny brown eyes, full of longing and sadness and hatred and anger and happiness and resignation. He reaches out, placing a hand on Peter’s cheek, and Peter shudders and presses into the touch.

“Baby,” he breathes. His mind feels like it’s gone blank, save for the thought of Fury, and Toomes, and S.H.I.E.L.D. He’s an agent. He’s not part of… this, anymore. He can’t be.

A tear trails down Peter’s cheek, dripping onto the crook of his finger, and Peter turns his head to smudge it. But before he can, Tony pulls back, then grips his face with both hands to pull him into a kiss. It’s a clumsy one, full of wet gasps and pained noises, before Peter kisses back, pressing closer and closer until he’s toppled over Tony.

Tony keeps his eyes closed, even when Peter pulls back, lips ghosting over his. Peter falls onto his chest, mouthing desperately at his neck, fingers lacing through his own to squeeze tightly. Tony can feel his wet cheeks pressing against his jaw.

Peter finally pulls away, and Tony opens his eyes. “Stay,” Peter whispers again, and Tony swallows over the lump in his throat. He looks down at his hand, uncurling his fingers, and sees a familiar golden ring resting in his palm. His breath catches in his throat, and he squeezes his hand into a fist tightly, feeling the gold warm up at his touch.

And then he knows he’s made his decision—or maybe there was only ever one right answer.

“Okay,” he says, and Peter falls back onto him, a silent sob wracking his body.

Tony wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly, never wanting to let go—and he doesn’t.

The feeling of holding so Peter closely is accompanied by the decision that he’s going to grow a pair of fucking wings, if only to take both him and Peter elsewhere, away from any place that isn’t just for them.

He should have known he would end up back here. He was always going to end up back home.

-- -- --

“You passed with flying colours, Stark.” Fury doesn’t even look up as he addresses him. He’s too busy making his coffee. Tony thinks he goes out of his way to never look anyone in the eye. “Makes me wonder where you learned all these skills. It’s not every day we get an applicant like you.”

Tony doesn’t say anything. Just lifts his chin.

Fury’s eye flicks up then. It’s just the slightest bit unnerving. It feels like he can see right through him, see everything that he’s been through, see where he’s come from, see the dirt and blood that remains underneath his fingernails no matter how much he scrubs them under the faucet. He wonders if the bitter smell of leather is still stuck to him, coiling through his hair to settle down like a snake in a nest. He wonders if it’ll ever leave him, wonders how many baths and showers it’ll take for him to rub himself raw, clean.

“It’s not an easy task to commit to S.H.I.E.L.D.” Fury takes a sip of his coffee and saunters closer. Tony doesn’t move. “You leave everything behind and give it all to us. S.H.I.E.L.D. can give you what you want, but in return, we demand loyalty.” He’s standing right in front of Tony now. They stay like that for a few moments, before Fury asks softly, “Are you a loyal man, Stark?”

Tony lifts his chin. “Yes.” His voice doesn’t shake, and he holds Fury’s gaze. His fingers curl into fists, and he waits with bated breath.

Finally, Fury holds a hand out, and says, “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, agent.”

Tony takes it, grips it tightly, and gives a jerky nod to seal his fate. “Thank you, sir.”

He’s home, and he’s never going back.

Tag list: @sinditia @darker-soft-starker @starkeristheendgame @thegreenmetblue @momodashii @peterrparrkerr @tnpt @blazingparker @carelessannie

#starker #ironspider #sfsummerbingo21 #nff #mafia au #my fics #italics are flashbacks #omg pls i can't believe it's done??#i promised this fic in june so im sure some of u on the tag list have forgotten about this #but i hope you still enjoy if you choose to read it!! <3

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blueskrugs · 4 years ago

Text

I Wanna Know You | Matthew Tkachuk

I heard this hannah montana song in a store at the beginning of december, immediately thought of Matthew, and then spent a week with it stuck in my head and trying to plan it out. sorry this isn’t a request, but I needed a break from writing them to remember why I loved writing. yikes. anyway, apparently I’m still incapable of writing fics that aren’t based on or inspired by songs. maybe one day...

length: 2.4k words

When I saw you over there, I didn't mean to stare But my mind was everywhere, I wanna know you

Matthew Tkachuk was magnetic. He’d always been like that, loud, the center of attention, lighting up whatever room he’d walked into. He thrived when all eyes were on him, and he lived to make people smile. That’s where you met him, at a party just before the start of the season, in Gio’s backyard on a night that wasn’t quite summer and not quite fall, either.

You were friends with Johnny's girlfriend, and she’d insisted that you come along. She’d told you that no one would care, and she had been right, because no one had paid you any mind other than asking what you wanted to drink. Besides, looking around, you were pretty sure other people had brought plus-ones or plus-twos and threes.

Matthew was holding court in a corner of the yard, always with a shitty beer in his hand and a small crowd of people around him. Your eyes kept being drawn to him, not just for the way whatever stories he was telling periodically sent up peals of laughter into the night sky, but for the way his face lit up when he talked.

He caught you in the kitchen when you were grabbing water.

“I don’t know you,” he said bluntly. You were taken aback. “I mean-” Matthew shook his head. “I’m Matthew,” he said, holding out the hand that wasn’t holding yet another Bud Light.

“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Matthew laughed. “You a fan?”

“Would you stop talking to me if I told you I were an Oilers fan?” You mostly just wanted to see what he would say.

Matthew wrapped an arm around your shoulders and dragged you back outside. “Nope.”

There's a mark above your eye, you got it in July Fightin' for your sister's reputation

It was well after dark, and you’d had more than a few drinks. Which probably amounted to whatever courage it took to reach out and poke Matthew in the forehead where he was sitting next to you at a bonfire someone had built.

“Ow,” Matthew said, rubbing his forehead. You hadn’t even poked him hard enough to leave a mark, but there was something there, a cut just above his eyebrow that had barely healed all the way.

“How’d you get that?” you asked.

On your other side, Noah snorted. Matthew flipped him off. “I’ll have you know that I was defending my little sister’s honor.” Noah laughed outright now. “Okay, she and Luke Hughes were arguing about something dumb down at the Lake this summer, and I stepped in.”

“And?” you prompted, because you could tell the story didn’t end there.

“And I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking and fell off the end of the dock and hit my head.” Matthew somehow managed to look sheepish while grinning as the group sitting around the fire burst out laughing. He rubbed at his forehead again wryly. “My mom says it’s gonna scar,” he added.

“Maybe leave out the falling off a dock part next time you tell the story,” you told him.

Matthew grinned at you and winked. You settled back into your lawn chair and took a sip of your drink, watching as Matthew launched into another tale of something that happened at the lake over the summer, thinking that you could get used to this.

Matthew kissed you for the first time later that night, alone in the hallway as the party was winding down, still tasting a little of beer, and, yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

And valentines are lame So you bring me flowers just for no occasion

The first time Matt brought you flowers for no reason, you were suspicious. It wasn’t your birthday, or anniversary, or Valentine’s Day– and he hadn’t missed any of those things, either. But there they were, waiting on the table in your apartment when you got home from work. You knew they were from Matthew because the card had one of his dumb cheesy jokes on it, but you still didn’t know why they were from Matthew. You snapped a picture and sent it to him, simply asking, “what did you do?”

Matt called you instead of responding.

“What did you do?” you asked again.

“What makes you think I did something?” Matthew asked. You could hear him pouting.

“Why else would you give me flowers?” You were still a little anxious about it, and Matthew wasn’t exactly helping. “How did you even get them in my apartment, anyway?” The Flames were on a road trip, had flown out to Chicago that morning.

“Used your spare key and dropped ��em off before I went to the airport this morning,” he said. He sounded a little proud of himself.

“Matthew,” you sighed. “I gave you my spare key for emergencies,” you chided.

“And I needed to give you flowers!”

“Matt!”

“Okay, I just-” Matthew cut himself off. “My dad used to send my mom flowers from longer road trips, and I always thought that would be something I would do one day.” Matt trailed off, and he sounded hesitant for the first time all conversation.

You reached out and ran your fingers over the petals on one of the roses in the bouquet. They were pretty, and it was cute that Matthew had wanted to give you flowers, had thought of it while getting ready for a road trip in the middle of a busy season.

“You couldn’t have at least put them in a vase?” you asked, grinning, though Matthew couldn’t see you.

Matt huffed out a laugh, surprised. “I was running late!”

“Yeah, well, now these poor flowers are half-dead,” you told him, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear so you could root through your cabinets for a vase to rescue the flowers that were indeed wilting a little.

“Then I’ll just have to send you more,” he said.

“Oh my God, Matthew.”

The flowers kept coming throughout that first season together, with no real rhyme or reason: before some road trips, whether they were over a week or just two days, or when he came home from a road trip, showing up at your door and producing a bouquet with a flourish and a crooked grin. It always meant that Matthew had been thinking of you, no matter where he was.

You smile, nеver shout You stand out in a crowd

As Matthew got older, he had developed a habit of adopting rookies. It was entertaining to watch: Matthew, not really much older than a rookie himself, but with an A on his chest nonetheless, going full big brother-mode on all the kids fresh into the league.

Which is why you were woken up in the middle of the night by a phone call from one of said rookies. You listened to Matthew stumble out of bed and root around for a hoodie in the dark, grumbling under his breath about “idiot kids.”

“What happened?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Fucking ow,” he said, tripping over one of his shoes. “Fucking Zary got in a fight at a bar or something, I don’t know. He asked me to come pick him up.” Matthew had managed to get matching shoes on his feet, and was now looking for his keys. “I’ll be back with him later if I don’t kill him.”

Matthew did not kill Zary, just drove him home and directed him to the guest bedroom to sleep it off, because he did love his rookies, though he would never admit it to anyone.

The next morning, Connor was waiting nervously in the kitchen when you both woke up.

“Coffee, kid?” Matt asked.

“I didn’t start the fight!” Connor blurted.

Matthew snorted. “I didn’t ask, but good for you, kid.” He started fiddling with his coffee maker.

“You’re not gonna, like, yell at me?”

“Do you want me to?”

You laughed softly. “Be nice, Matthew.”

“I’m always nice!” Matthew protested. “And, no, I’m not gonna yell, but you are bag skating after practice for a week,” he told Zary, pointing a fork at him. The piece of fruit he’d had speared on it fell off and hit the floor. “Ah, fuck.”

You're fragile and you're strong A beautiful and perfect combination

For the most part, Matthew didn’t let much bother him. He was good at leaving the game on the ice, not taking anything too personally. He did, however, take his game very seriously. He was always trying to be better, for himself for the team, and he prided himself on becoming a leader in the locker room over the years. He took bad losses to heart, and he was the first to blame himself for any mistakes he made.

The Flames were having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, well, couple of weeks. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a little, but it certainly wasn’t pretty. They were losing more than they were winning– they lost every game on a four game road trip, the games they were winning were sloppy, and they were losing ground in the standings. To make matters worse, in the latest game, Matthew had missed an easy goal on an empty net. Yeah, definitely not pretty.

You made it home before him and waited.

Matthew slammed the front door when he came in, but there wasn’t a lot of force behind it, like he was too exhausted even for frustration. You had been idly watching an Oilers game because it was on, but you turned the TV off when Matt came into the living room. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket, his tie wasn’t tied properly anymore, and his dress shirt was rumpled.

“Oh, babe,” you said. Matthew made a face at you. “Do you want to change or just-”

“Cuddle?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Come over here.”

Matt wasted no time in coming over and flopping gracelessly onto the couch with his head on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, and he pressed into your hand.

Matthew sighed, long and loud, ending in “Fuck.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you tried, but you both knew you were lying.

Matthew opened one eye to glare at you. “I hate this so much,” he said. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He sat up and pushed his hands through his already messy hair. “I don’t understand what’s wrong, we’re supposed to be a better team than this.”

You really weren’t sure how to comfort Matthew, but you hated seeing him like this. You reached out and took one of his hands, pulling him in for a hug. He slumped against you like his strings had been cut.

“I’m supposed to be better than this,” he whispered, and there it was. Matthew could grin his way through a game, letting chirps and insults roll off his shoulders, but when it came down to it, he would always be worried about being good enough, always wanting to impress everyone. To make people proud.

“Oh, babe,” you said again, but this time your heart broke a little for him. Matthew sighed again. “This is not your fault, you know that. You are good, and you’re a good team. You’ll get through this just fine.”

Matthew huffed like he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue with you. You sat quietly in the dark living room for a while, long enough you thought Matthew had fallen asleep.

“Hey,” you said quietly. Matthew stirred and stretched. “You have a couple days off next weekend. Do you wanna drive out to Banff and do something?”

Matthew perked up immediately. “Can we go dog sledding?”

I like how you are with me In our future history

It was the end of the season, and you were at another backyard party at the Giordano’s. You were idly watching Matthew chase some of his teammates’ kids around. Well, actually, Matt was being chased by some and chasing some others. You weren’t sure how anyone knew who was doing the chasing. The other girls were chatting around you, but you were only half-listening as you watched Matthew scoop up a giggling Tillie Backlund and spin her around.

You couldn’t help but think about how Matthew would be with kids of your own one day.

“I’m too young for baby fever,” you muttered into your sangria.

Annica laughed next to you, following your gaze. “He’ll be a good dad one day,” she commented.

“You are not helping!” The other girls were laughing, now, too.

“Have you two ever really talked about the future?” Meredith asked.

You scoffed. You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. “Not really,” you admitted.

Your eyes didn’t leave Matthew as he flopped into the grass and let the kids swarm him. And yet. Matthew hadn’t stopped talking about how much he couldn’t wait for you to come down to St. Louis this summer, to really meet his family, to spend time down at the lake with everyone. How much his family was going to love you.

You’d always dreamed of your future, of a picture-perfect wedding and a few kids and a dog. Growing up, the man of your dreams had always been just that, a dream, but lately when you thought about the future, Matthew was always there. That certainly felt like something important.

After a few more minutes, Matthew extricated himself from the small mob of kids and made his way over to you, pulling the empty chair next to you close and kissing your temple as he dropped into it.

“What’re you guys gossiping about?” Matt asked, plucking your glass from your hand and taking a drink. He made a face, but didn’t give it back to you.

“You’re great with all those kids,” Lauren said pointedly. Matthew beamed.

Your group dissipated a little not long after that, and Matthew tugged you out of your own chair and into his lap. He poked you in the side a couple times.

“You’re awfully quiet.” You made a noncommittal noise. “What’re you thinking about, babe?” he asked.

You nosed at his jawline, pressed a kiss there. “You ever think about having kids?” you murmured.

Matt’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into him. “Yeah, of course.” He was smiling softly at you. “Oh.”

You giggled a little. “Just one day,” you added.

Matthew kissed you, just a quick peck. “Yeah, one day,” he said.

One day didn’t feel so far away if you knew it would be Matthew by your side. Maybe you’d be used to his antics by then.

And maybe someday down the road I'll sit back and say to myself, "Yeah, I thought so"

#cait writes things #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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fairyoftbz · 4 years ago

Text

a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Text

Well that happened.

B!dbwm 2020

Day 6: Meeting the Justice League

Marinette paced in her bedroom in Wayne Manor, running her hands through her hair as Damian laid on her bed and played animal crossing while completely ignoring her freakout.

“Dami, how did I get myself into this mess?!” she asked, frantically pulling at her pigtails. Her brother snorted, rolling his eyes unsympathetically.

“You never use your brain until after you’ve already made important decisions,” he responded ruthlessly. “All of your mental capacity goes towards planning out completely inane things like birthday parties and actually caring about what our even more idiotic class thinks about you, so when you actually need it you don’t have any intelligence left to spare.”

Marinette turned her eyes on him, the blue lightening to an icy color in her panicked annoyance as she glared at him. “Gee, thanks. I can always trust my darling brother to have my back,” she said sarcastically, to which Damian only smirked.

“When it matters? Of course. But in this case, watching the fallout will be entertaining and not at all dangerous to your physical safety.”

Damian and Marinette had been sent to live in Paris a few years back, about a year after Damian had come back to life. Marinette had been far too attached to the twin she had thought she had lost for good, and had nearly driven him crazy with how overprotective she had gotten. Right alongside that, Damian had started to become even more stifled by Bruce’s own protectiveness and distrust of him, so he quit being Robin and they were sent to PAris to try and “recover” from their “trauma” somewhere “safe and peaceful, under the jurisdiction of the JLE.”

Yeah, that was a great idea. Up until they found out the hard way that the JLE had up and abandoned the Paris headquarters and taken up unofficial residence in England somewhere. And then Hawkmoth showed up. And of course, of fucking course, an old chinese man from the pacifistic organization that acted as a direct foil to the League where they grew up somehow decided that they, out of everyone in Paris, were the best people he could find to wield the power of tiny gods to save the city.

Sure, he was right, but Damian chewed him a new asshole as soon they met for trusting complete unvetted strangers with the gods of creation and destruction.

And now Marinette had finally managed to leak to Tim, who then spread the calculated slip of information to Bruce, that Paris had had a supervillain for the past few years and the JLE had been neglecting their jobs. Which turned into Batman setting up a meeting with Ladybug and Chat Noir (Damian had tried to tell everyone his name was Chance Noir, Dark Luck, NOT ‘chat noir,’ since the last thing he needed was to be associated with Selina in any way. Nobody listened, and now he was stuck with being called Chat Noir). They had a lovely discussion about all the shit Hawkmoth did, their lack of resources, and the lack of assistance/straight up refusal to believe their word that came from the JLE.

Which led to Batman inviting Ladybug to meet the Justice League to debrief on the Paris situation. Damian had been invited as Chat Noir, but had taken the smart path and opted out. Now Marinette had to not only go to the Justice League as Ladybug, but also as Batman's daughter Hummingbird, who was being brought in for consultation along with Damian as Robin.

“I’m gonna die again,” Marinette continued her catastrophizing, Tikki and Plagg sharing a glance at once another from their spot on her writing desk. “I’m gonna die of total embarrassment. Don’t bother resurrecting me Dami, I’m just gonna die all over again once Dad finds out who we are and kills me.”

Damian snorted. “Hah. Father killing anything, good one,” he snarked back blandly. “You’ll be fine. Remember, you’re the planner and I’m the one with actual skill. You have the strangest ability when it comes to getting out of situations like these by the skin of your teeth,” Damian grinned at something on the screen of his Switch before continuing. “You’ll be fine. And if you sell me out, I’ll bury you myself.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him. Neither of them wanted their dad to find out that they were LAdybug and Chat noir, especially since they had already explained to him the basics of the source of their powers. They were both certain that Bruce would completely ignore how well they had been handling the situation on their own for almost five years and jump straight to the “my murderous children should not be left with the powers of destruction and creation at their fingertips,” line of thought. Bruce had never trusted them alone before, why now?

“At least help me, shaqiq?” Marinette asked, walking over and plopping onto the ground next to her bed, so she could look straight into her twin’s bright green eyes. At first, he refused to even look at her, completely unmoved. Marinette hummed mischievously, a habit that was the source of her Gotham codename. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

Damian finally huffed, scowling. “Fine.”

He knew better than to doubt her. Marinette always got her way when she decided she was wronged and needed to even the score for something. Always.

—* — * — * — * — *

Hummingbird. The smallest Bat, by far, and the fastest when it came to natural speed. Hard to spot, with the sole giveaway that a short playful hum could be heard if she thought she had her prey cornered. She was hardly ever wrong.

She had also been temporarily retired as she and Robin moved to some undisclosed location to get away from the vigilante life for a while. Or so Batman said. And for the most part, aside from the occasional League gathering here or glimpse that they got of the two’s civilian personas if someone visited the manor while they were there, Robin and Hummingbird stayed retired. Heroes who knew them wondered if Robin had finally given up and settled down somehow, if he was even capable of it. And they all speculated that Hummingbird was so scarred from Robin’s death that she wouldn't ever be able to leave his side again, retired or not.

Seeing Hummingbird in her navy blue and black uniform, almost identical to her brother’s but for the thick navy blue scarf that covered her neck and lower face, everyone in the Justice League who knew her thought they were right. She stood there, older and only a little taller, never leaving Robin’s side as they traded secretive glances and hand signals only they understood. They didn’t make any attempt to stray from one another’s side.

But Jon Kent, superboy and Damian’s oldest friend, was of a different mind. He had been by Marinette’s side after Damian died, and by both of theirs when he was brought back. This was not the same terrified dependence he had seen back then. His eyes narrowed.

The twins were scheming, and nobody else would notice until it was too late.

Quicker than they could blink, he was by their side with his trademark smile. “Hey guys! Long time no see!”

They gave the half-kryptonian identical deadpan expressions, sighing in tandem. “You facetimed us last night. And you flew to Paris to visit us last week,” Damian pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Despite us expressly telling you not to.”

Jon shrugged. “If I listened to everything you two said all the time, we’d never have any fun. So, excited to meet this Ladybug girl? Dad says that your dad won’t tell him anything about her until she shows up.”

Hummingbird and Robin traded looks before Marinette answered. “Not really. We see Ladybug in action in Paris all the time—”

“She even saved Marinette from an Akuma who was obsessed with wanting to date her,” Damian interrupted with an insufferable grin. Marinette elbowed him hard, making her brother wince before chuckling at her red face.

“I could have saved myself just fine! It’s not my fault we have to lay low, or we might get kicked out of Paris for being past vigilantes!” Marinette argued, voice high as she protested how helpless Damian had made her sound. She puffed her cheeks out in annoyance. Damian’s grin widened into a predatory smirk that showed off teeth.

“Oh? What about that one time that Tsurugi got akumatized, and Chat Noir had to save you because she wanted to duel you for the right to date me and you were cornered?”

Marinette growled, throwing up her hands in frustration before smacking Damian’s shoulder angrily. He only laughed at her. “I’m leaving! Come find me when Ladybug finishes explaining the things we already know!” with that, a fuming and embarrassed Hummingbird stormed out of the room.

“Huh,” Flash remarked, leaning against the wall. “She looks a lot better than the last time I saw her. And she actually left your immediate vicinity. Willingly,” he remarked to Robin, who glared at the speedster.

“It’s been almost six years. If you think my sister is weak enough to be that thoroughly encumbered by the past for so long, you are greatly underestimating her,” he looked around to see almost all of the gathered League members staring at him. He grit his teeth and looked over at his father. “When is this woman going to arrive, anyway? You’d think she would actually be on time.”

Just then, a portal opened in the middle of the room and Ladybug walked through. Quickly shedding the brown costume that allowed her to teleport in, she was left in just her black and red-spotted combat suit. Seeing as they finally found out how to alter the costumes the Kwami gave them, Ladybug’s hair now sat in a braided bun on the crown of her head and her costume was made to look more like Nightwing’s with the ladybug symbol on her upper chest and between her shoulder blades on her back, with black gloves that reached up to her elbows and black knee-high boots with red stripes up the sides.

The brightly colored heroine smiled, seeming to light up the room with cheer that nearly put Jon to shame (it took her awhile to perfect that particular smile. She actually based it off Jon himself, and Damian was impressed by how accurate she had been able to make it over time. Not that he would say as much out loud).

That was when Diana started choking on thin air, and Damian and Marinette both realized that they had overlooked something rather major.

Hippolyta had been a Ladybug. Diana had met Tikki. Diana knew how to see past Tikki’s glamour.

At first, Ladybug tried to play it off. Maybe Diana would catch on and help her out. So she walked over, holding her hand out for Wonderwoman to shake and putting on another wide smile for good measure.

“Oh my Kwamii! It is so good to finally meet you, Wonderwoman, Tikki told me so much about you and your mother! Would you like to talk later—”

“Marinette Wayne, how in Zeus’ name did you become the new Ladybug?” Wonderwoman instantly yelled, making Marinette wilt. Damian tried backing away slowly, only for Diana’s eyes to then shoot over to him and narrow dangerously. “And you! I knew I felt something weird, but now I can pinpoint it. You are wielding the Black Cat! One of you explain what is going on. Now.”

Ladybug and Robin instantly looked away, getting ready to make a quick escape right as their father walked up behind Robin, putting a firm hand on his shoulders. As always when Batman smiled, it sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. Marinette gulped a little.

“I agree. Marinette, I forgot to tell you that we changed the locations of the League security cameras last night,” shit they were so busted. Bruce must have suspected them of something from the very beginning, stupid world’s greatest detective instincts— “But now that we have confirmed that my suspicions were correct, we can save that discussion for later. First, let’s debrief on the Paris situation like we agreed. Then, you two will explain why you decided not to tell me while you help each other clean the entire Batcave tonight.”

Damian didn’t open his hand for the entire meeting. He and Marinette made eye contact as soon as everyone sat down for a suddenly very uneasy debrief, silently agreeing that they would not let their father take away their Miraculous. They finally had names and reputations of their own, away from the Batclan and their father’s influence. They had learned more about themselves and what they were capable of in those past years as Miraculous wielders than in all the years of the rest of their lives combined. They wouldn’t give it up, not even for Bruce’s approval.

But when they got back to the Manor and began cleaning up the batcave as they had been ordered, they were surprised when Bruce made no mention of taking their jewelry back at all. And he stayed up with them, silently reviewing things on the Batcomputer as they cleaned. It could almost be considered family bonding.

By the time the twins were done cleaning the sun was about to rise, and finally their father spoke up for the first time since they had begun their punishment chore.

“I watched days worth of your Paris battles before going out to meet Ladybug and Chat Noir in person,” he said without ever turning around from his spot at the computer. “I was impressed. I still am. The teamwork was flawless, and the Parisian heroes never used deadly force. They even did their best to provide emotional support to the victims who were akumatized. I thought for sure at least one of you two would have been victims yourself, with all that you’ve been through. Anything can be a trigger for you, anything can make you vulnerable to Hawkmoth,” Bruce paused to take a sip of coffee. He didn’t have to look at his children’s reflections in the face of the Batcomputer to know they were drinking in every word he said. He did anyway, allowing a small smile that they couldn’t see to form on his lips.

“I scoured through every akuma attack one by one, trying to find the one where one or both of you were the ones possessed. But I only found more reasons to be impressed by the heroes instead. By the time I was done looking through every scrap of video I could find, I had a feeling I knew who you were. Hearing your voices in person cemented it further, but I wanted video proof. So, knowing that Marinette would have forgotten about agreeing to accompany me to a JL meeting, I asked Ladybug to debrief us.”

“You had us from the start,” Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping. But Damian said nothing, eyes wide as he picked up on the nuances of what Bruce was saying that Marinette was too tired to catch on to.

“I’m proud of you two.”

Then, even Marinette froze. The twins had identical expressions of shock on their faces, and Bruce finally turned around to look at them properly. For a long while, the three of them only made silent eye contact as dozens of emotions flew through the air silently, but understood. Then Damian and Marinette straightened up just and silently. Damian nodded to his father, Marinette gave him a vulnerable little smile, and then they both backed out and went to head to sleep.

And once they were gone, Bruce sighed in content. Seems his meet-the-Justice-League plan worked out perfectly. He had finally managed to say something right to his two most troublesome children, for the first time. He leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the dark bat-infested cave ceiling as one more tiny grin played on his face, a little melancholy this time.

Guess they never needed him to help them find their inner hero, after all. They had become even better at the whole hero thing than he was, and all on their own. Bruce closed his eyes, not noticing when Alfred draped a blanket over his body and left the Cave with a soft chuckle.

--*--*--*--*--*

This sucked, but I wanted to give you guys something. So. here you go I guess?

#maribat #b!dbwm2020 #b!dbwm #bio!dad bruce wayne #Platonic daminette #sibling daminette #Damian as Chat Noir #mlb x dc #ml x dc #Miraculous ladybug X DC #idk what happened don't yell at me #another one-hour fic

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wannabemobwife · 4 years ago

Text

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Parker Holland x Charlotte Owens

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Death, Fighting

-Words: 3.6K

Author note: I really love this chapter. I love all the comments and would appreciate nice constructive criticism (please don't butcher my work lol) if you want. Feel free to leave in the comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter :))

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Word: 3.6K

“Haz are you okay mate?” Tom asked, seeing Haz freak out, they were about to land at Heathrow, on their way back from Dublin.

“No, I just heard from my neighbor that Henry never came home last night. With everything that happened yesterday, I’m just worried. I hope he is not lying in a ditch somewhere.” Harrison explained.

“He probably crashed at ours, everything will be ok.” You said as you comforted Haz. Oh boy, were you wrong.

Back at home, Parker awoke to his impending death once you and Tom, his parents’, find out what happened to their beautiful mansion. One party did all this damage. The curtains were torn down, there was red party cups everywhere and all the liquor bottles were displayed on the table. One amazingly epic party did all that.

“Bloody hell! That’s it I’m dead. I’m dead. I will never be allowed to leave this house ever again.” Parker said to himself. Picking up his phone he noticed 4 missed calls from you. Each one had a message and if there was one thing he knew about you is that you only left more harsh and frantic voice messages the more you called.

He only played the most recent one, you sounded really peeved “PARKER JACKSON HOLLAND! Please call me, I’m worried about you. I can’t get in touch with the staff either. I will be home in 20 mins, you better have a good fucking explanation for everything.” Parker’s eyes nearly flew out of his head when he saw that was sent 15 mins ago. Any moment now he would hear the Rolls pulling into the driveway.

The poor kid could only move so fast, he quickly gathered the liquor bottles and threw them into a plastic trash bag along with all the red solo cups that seem to be multiplying. All the meanwhile corralling all the squatters, from last night, who crashed there. He found some people by the pool and others passed out in the dining room. Running like a madman through the house, he caught a glimpse of what would be the reason for his demise. The door to Tom’s office was open. He swore to god he locked it, someone must’ve broken in. They could’ve taken anything, all the information about the mob was stored in that one tastefully decorated room. Parker quickly shut the door and hoped nothing would happen, he couldn’t live with himself if this one stupid party cost his family their livelihood.

“Rosie? Henry? Where are you guys? Mum and dad will be home any minute, I need your help.” Parker called out throughout the house. He didn’t expect Rosie to show up because of their fight last night, but where the fuck was Henry.

You and Tom pulled up along with Harrison in the black Rolls Royce, coming to a screeching halt. You all walked along the cobble stone path to the two large, intimidating front doors. You all simultaneously freaked out when you saw the door was ajar. Tom and Haz pulled out their guns and made it a priority to keep you safe by shoving you behind them. You all had no idea what you could be walking into.

Tom whispered to Haz to split up, Haz took the East Wing while Tom checked the main rooms. Rounding the corner he could her footsteps.

“Darling, stay behind me. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Tom whispered and you nodded in response.

“On the count of 3. 1, 2, 3,” Tom screamed as he jumped out, holding his gun straight ahead. He found his son disheveled, carrying grocery bags filled with empty beer cans and liquor bottles.

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT! Holy fuck! Dad is that you?” Parker screamed, dropping the bags to the ground, glass shattering and raising his hand up in innocence. Scared for his life her quickly caught his breath when he realized who it was.

“Parker, what the hell? Why the fuck was the door opened…. wait? Did you have a party!?!” Tom thundered as he realized what his son did. His voice gradually growing more furious. Parker just stood there with a shameful look on his face.

“Mum, dad. How was Dublin?” Parker sneaked to quickly change the subject.

“Don’t try to get out this, explain now!” You scolded, just as furious as Tom

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it, I just needed to blow off steam.” “What the fuck do you think a sorry is going to do? I run a fucking mob, Parker. Are you a fucking idiot? Parker, for fucks sake, anyone could have stolen some information from my office or gotten into the gun room. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I’m not that much of a div, I locked your office and I don’t know,” Parker explained.

“You’re not as dumb as I thought. Hope you were smart enough to lock the liquor cellar too,” Tom concluded.

“Yeah…about that,” Parker mumbled as Tom ran off to his liquor room. A loud clash and curse sounded throughout the house when he laid his eyes on his ransacked priceless collection.

“Mum, say something?” Parker pleaded with you as you just stood there in silence.

“2 months. You’re grounded for 2 months. No dates or parties, just school and home. I don’t think you understand how lucky you are that nothing serious happened here.” You said, your voice drenched with disappointment. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about what dad and you asked me and —” Parker whispered as he was soon cut off by Haz walking in.

“Did you find Henry?” Haz interrupted.

“No, I’m going to check upstairs. Will you check on Tom?” Harrison nodded as you ascended the staircase. Making your way through the halls, coming upon Rosie’s room.

“Roo, honey you awake?” You said walking into Rosie’s room

“AHHHH! Oh my fucking god! Rosie!” You screamed at the sight in front of you. Your sweet, slightly bad tempered daughter asleep with a boy in her bed.

“Darling? You alright?” Tom yelled from downstairs after hearing your scream.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” Rosie exclaimed frantically.

“Hi, Y/N.” Henry whispered, praying he wasn’t going to be berated. You were a mother figure to him after his own mother left his father and never looked back. “This is my house and hi Henry. What the fuck is Henry doing here in you bed? What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned bouncing between the two of them to get some answers.

“I can explain. But, firstly are you gonna tell dad?” Rosie inquired.

“The fact that he is already fuming downstairs, no. Not right now. And please explain, you have 5 seconds, but first you need to get Henry out of here.”

“Thank you mom, I just don’t —.“

“Ehh, eh, eh! Shut it, I’ll deal with you later,” you barked.

“Henry, I suggest you take the window and your dad is looking for you,” you said.

“Shit! Thanks Y/N… I mean Mrs. Holland” Henry said as you shot him a glare.

The moment Henry was in the clear, Tom barged in with his gun in hand. Someone needs to tell this man to put it down. All morning he has been traumatically scarring his kids for life, first with Parker and now Rosie.

“What? Is everyone all right? I heard a scream.” Tom exclaimed out of breath.

“Umm, yeah. I just saw a spider.” You stuttered.

“Oh love, you can kill a man in cold blood but can’t handle an itty bitty spider,” Tom joked as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“You're afraid of them too, Thomas.” You quipped with a side eye. If looks could kill, yours definitely would.

“And for you missy, you’re grounded along with your brother.” Tom said, looking down on Rosie. “Me? What did I do?” Rosie asked in a high pitched voice. “You attended this party correct? And since this is also your house, you threw it by association. Am I right?” Tom inquired.

“I guess so,” Rosie huffed.

The twin’s exile was worse than they prepared for. Not only were they responsible for cleaning up the entire mess but they were given a list of chores to complete. This was no ordinary list. It was devised by you and Tom along with inputs from the maids and capos.

On it read:

Wash the Rolls

Clean the guns

Reorganize the pantry

Mow the lawn

Re-order all stolen liquor and stock the liquor room

Drain the pool, clean the pool, fill the pool back up again…

The list was never-ending. Each task more pointless than the next. It went on forever. The household staff was happy for their load was to be lessen for a couple weeks, unlike the kids. Harrison even forced Henry to partake in the chores.

The kids were only a couple days into their quarantine and were already going stir crazy. Parker was having withdrawals from Charlotte, missing her even more. The boy was whipped for her, really smitten. They would talk the night away. Some nights never getting any shut eye as their conversations would prolong hours.

Parker couldn’t believe this was where he was now. One night of unadulterated juvenile fun equated to 2 months of misery. Today was Charlotte’s birthday and he was supposed to take her to the London Eye on a surprise birthday trip, but all his plans were ruined the moment his parents came home and grounded his sorry ass.

“I can’t believe your parents grounded you. Assholes.” Charlotte said over the phone, fuming he couldn’t celebrate with her.

“I can’t go babe. I really wish I could but I’m grounded for life remember.” Parker said, the cold shoulder Tom and you had been giving him was killing him.

“Parker its my birthday. You have to come,” Charlotte pleaded

“There’s no chance in hell I’m allowed to leave.”

“Geez you just threw a party, it’s not like you killed someone,” Charlotte added. He might as well have. If he killed someone he wouldn’t be burdened with this punishment, probably praised instead, carrying on the family tradition.

“Just sneak out. Come on, we are all going to this nightclub downtown. It’s gonna be awesome. And I’m such a good girlfriend, I can’t let you miss it.” Charlotte pleaded.

“Alright, Char you wore me down.”

“I knew it. Pick you up at 11 tonight.”

“Park around the block, I’m going to have to climb out my window. Remember my house is like a fortress.” Parker said. He wasn’t lying.

Meanwhile, Tom was in and out of meetings in his office all day. He received one odd phone call in particular from his dad, Dominic Holland. “Hi dad, how are you” Tom said as he picked up the phone.

“I’m fine son, so how did the talk with Parker go. I’m excited to teach him all my mobster tricks,” Dom exclaimed. “Actually dad, he reacted like I did.”

“Oh well, he will come around just like you did” Dom said encouragingly.

“I don’t know if he will. Anyway it wouldn’t be so bad if he had his own path in life.” Tom murmured trying to stick up for his son’s decision.

“Tom, you know what will happen to this family if that happens,” Dom yelled.

“I know dad. I just don’t want him to feel trapped, like you did to me,” Tom exclaimed growing more annoyed by the minute.

“What I did to you got you to where you are today. Your life is thanks to me son and don’t you forget it,” Dom said with a stern, menacing voice.

“Understood sir,” Tom quipped. “Maybe Parker needs a push, in the right direction.” “Dad, I swear to god, don’t fucking do anything. Y/N and I are handling this” Tom yelled. “We’ll see how that turns out” Dom ended the phone call. Leaving Tom frustrated that his father sees him as his own puppet.

The night soon fell and Parker’s plan had been put into motion. He bribed a few of the Tom’s men with his allowance to let him sneak past. He jumped out the window, carefully walked on the roof as to not slip and make any noise. Finally on the ground, he scaled the iron fence to be met with Charlotte’s ice blue eyes. She was dressed in a pink party dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

“Wow princess, you look *chef’s kiss. Happy birthday baby,” Parker said while making his way back to the ground.

“Thanks doll. Now come on, before someone catches us,” she yelled whilst hopping into her silver Mercedes.

Arriving at the nightclub, everything was in full swing for 11 o’clock at night. Parker, Charlotte and her other friends were treated like royalty the moment Parker let his name slip.

“Right this way Mr. Holland and I will have someone bring you a bottle of champagne, on the house of course,” the hostess said as she sat them at their table.

“Oooo fancy, you should drop your name more often,” Charlotte whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Oh it was nothing, love.” Parker said while pouring himself and Charlotte a glass of bubbly. “Seriously Parker, how’d you do this? If I didn’t know any better I’d say your dad owned the club or something,” Charlotte said dumbfounded, causing Parker to choke on his champagne at her remark.

It was amazing what power could do. Having enough power to make your enemies disappear was unimaginable. Parker knew what turning down his father meant. He would have the name and the look of a Holland, but he wouldn’t be one anymore.

How could he give all that up. He enjoyed his cushy lifestyle. Sure it was day after day of worrying about your image but, he felt as though he belonged in that world. How could he go on being a kid for two more years knowing there was a metaphorical expiration date on his life.

He desperately wanted to want to be like them, his family. You, his mother, are the strongest person he knows. Having you in his life keeps him grounded, literally at the moment. Also his dad, Tom is a very loving and amazing father. He was there at all the football games (English football) cheering him on and at the spelling bees, also when he felt his first heartbreak, Tom was there.

Family has been the one constant in his life. Now it was being eclipsed by power, a power that could ruin lives or affect change. Turning his back on his family means they would never get see his future.

No one would be there at his graduation from college or when he first child was born, only Charlotte would be there. The girl he hoped to marry and have his kids. He couldn’t give up his future with her, no way. Parker eyes glanced at her, mesmerized by her beauty. He thought to himself, “This was it. This, she is all I’ll ever need, my princess.”

Most of Parker’s pet names for Charlotte were derived from Tom. He had heard his dad refer to his mother as: princess, queen, doll, darling, love. The list goes on. As long as Parker had his princess he knew he would be ok.

They danced the night away. Song after song. Feeling like the only two people in the room. Getting more drunk as the night progressed and other guests started to fizzle out. Leaving Charlotte and Parker alone on the dance floor.

“Char, I think it’s about time we head home. We are the only people left,”

Parker chuckled.

“Just two more songs please,” she muttered with her head nuzzled by his neck.

“It’s two hours til sunrise!” Parker exclaimed.

“Just a little while longer, I don’t want this moment to end.” “Me neither baby, I want to stay in your arms forever” Parker said. In a moment of love, coupled with champagne and a few tequila shots, Parker whispered, “We should get married.”

“What? Are you serious? Do you mean now or in like 5 years?” Charlotte asked as her voice slowly diminished

“Umm… yes and now. I love you,” Parker murmured. “YES! I will marry you!” Charlotte exclaimed pulling her boyfriend into a deep, passionate kiss. Parker’s dream was coming true and all he had to do was leave his family.

Just then a group of tall, stocky men, all dressed in black, funneled through the door of the club. They didn’t bother with sitting down, they just stood there blocking the only exit.

One of the men spoke up, “Parker Holland? I have a message for you.”

“Can’t it wait til morning, just tell him I’m sorry and he can ground me even longer,” Parker replied thinking the message was from Tom.

“It’s not that kind of message,” all the noise drifted away as the other man drew his gun. Both Charlotte and Parker grew tense at the sight of his pistol.

“Charlotte, get behind me,” Parker whispered, scared for both their lives.

“Boy, it’s not from your daddy,” said the leader of the men. “Do you know who my father is? He will have all of your heads if you so as much lay a finger on me,” Parker responded

“So the girl is up for grabs?” “Charlotte, RUN!” Parker Screamed

“Eh, not so fast. I’m going to enjoy this one.” The guy said, seizing Charlotte in his grip and motioning for this associates to grab Parker. Two arms holding Parker back from protecting Charlotte.

“LET GO OF ME! CHARLOTTE!”

“Why you hanging out this rift raft? I’m sorry but he needs to atone for his mistakes.” “Parker..” Charlotte whimpered.

“Such a pretty girl and such a waste” the man snickered as he pressed the gun into her abdomen. Tears slipped down her face as she felt the cool metal against her.

BANG

It was the shot heard round the room. Everything stood quiet as Charlotte collapsed to the floor. The leader of the men shouted he need a drink. “NOOOOO! ” Parker screamed as he was let go and raced to Charlotte’s side

“Hey, hey, baby look at me. Look at me,” Parker said as tears flooded down his face.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve left.” Charlotte whispered with labored breaths while blood poured out of her wound. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Parker cried while rubbing his thumb on her cheek. Blood pooled around them and he could only be focused on one thing, the love of his life dying in his arms. “Parker, it hurts so much,” Charlotte cried. The pain was mind-numbing. Threatening the life inside her.

“I know, love. Just keep your eyes on me love, keep’em open”

“I’m so tired Parker… I want my last words to you to be I love you. I love you ok? So much.” she whispered, then broke into a coughing fit. Blood filling her mouth and running down her chin, scaring Parker.

“Don’t, don’t fucking start that now you, hear me. You’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna get married and have kids and grow old together,” Parker exclaimed as her eyes threatened to shut.

“You said yes, Char. You have to be okay. You said yes. I asked you to marry me and you said yes.” Parker cried as tears refused to stop coming. Charlotte’s eyes growing more and more to a close.

“Please, don’t leave me baby. Charlotte don’t leave me. Don’t fucking close your eyes. You hear me. Don’t.” And with that, the hand Parker held so close to his heart was limp. Her eyes had closed and heart stopped beating. She was gone.

“No! No, no no, hey hey hey, come on, come on baby stay with me. Stay with me please.”

“Wake up, darling. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just come back to me baby. , I need you,” Parker whimpered. He burst into a fit of sobs and hugged her close to his body, not wanting to let her go because then it all became real.

The woman who changed his life, no longer walked this earth. The love of his life was gone. All the bubbling life inside of her, vanished like it had never existed in the first place. Parker’s demeanor flipped like a switch. His sadness became infused with anger, he was out for blood.

“You bastards! Why did you do that? She had nothing to do with this?” Parker thundered as blood coated his knuckles. “I’m sorry kid, but it had to be done” The leader spoke.

In a fit of rage, Parker grabbed the empty champagne bottle and smashed it over one of the guy’s heads, knocking the muscular guy unconscious.

“Big mistake, kid. Thought you were smarter than that.” The leader said as he stood in front of Parker and delivered him a swift punch to the jaw, flooring Parker.

“She really wasn’t enough of a message? Want her death to be in vain?” He spat as he kicked Parker in the stomach.

Several kicks followed, two more to the stomach, one to the groin and one final blow to the head, demobilizing Parker. He laid on the ground coughing up blood, trying to gather enough strength to get home.

He looked once more over to the girl he had loved, lifeless with a whole in stomach, knowing if it weren’t for him she would still be alive. Charlotte was the only thing on his mind as he succumbed to all the pain and everything faded to darkness.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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yes-or-no · 4 years ago

Text

Andrew Almost Stabs Nicky for the Thousandth Time - Part 2

(tw torture, child abuse, sexual abuse mention, suicide mention, knife and blood/injury mention)

Part 1

* * *

Neil turned his head as the door clicked open and Aaron walked in, his face flushed and a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’d been with Katelyn, no doubt. The smile disappeared the instant he saw Kevin’s face and worry filled his eyes when he followed Kevin’s gaze to the floor, where Neil was crouching in front of Nicky, tending to his neck.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked. “Neil what did you—“

“Shut up Aaron, I didn’t touch him,” Neil said before Aaron could accuse him of something. Neil turned back to Nicky. He had a smile on his face, but Neil could see past it. There was sill fear in his eyes, and his hands were still trembling.

“You’re doing that wrong,” Aaron pointed out, gesturing to the cotton pad Neil was using to clean Nicky’s cut. Neil ignored Aaron and looked at Nicky.

“Hey, Nicky,” he said, trying to get his attention from whatever world Nicky was in right now. He looked at Neil. “I’ll talk to him, okay?” Nicky shook his head.

“No, it was my fault, I shouldn’t have—“

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Neil cut in. “You shouldn’t have touched him. But Andrew can’t shove a knife against your throat every time you do something stupid. You’d be up against that wall all the time if he could,” Neil said, trying to get some sort of reaction from Nicky. It worked, and Nicky huffed a laugh. He was still shaken, but he’d relaxed slightly. “Are you going to be okay if I...” Neil trailed off, gesturing to the door. Nicky nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Go kick his ass for me,” he joked. Neil hadn’t seen Kevin move into the kitchen but when he came back he had a tub of ice cream and a spoon in his hands. He walked over to Nicky.

“What?” Nicky gasped. “No vegetables?” Kevin glared but shoved the tub of ice cream to him. Neil stood and turned to Aaron. He threw the bottle of disinfectant to him as he made his way toward the door.

“You do it properly, then, Doctor,” Neil said, finally answering Aaron’s comment from before. Aaron only levelled a sneer his way and walked over to Nicky.

* * *

Andrew was sitting on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling off the side of the building and a cigarette burning between his fingers. He didn’t turn at the sound of the door clicking open. Neil cleared his throat in case Andrew hadn’t heard and approached slowly. Andrew didn’t pass Neil a cigarette like he usually might’ve, but he didn’t object when Neil grabbed the packet next to him, took one out and lit it. Neil sat where the packet had been, keeping his distance from Andrew and letting his own legs hang in the cool afternoon air. Andrew let the smoke escape his mouth. Neil took note of the tremble in Andrew’s fingers. He thought back to his first trip to Columbia with the monsters, when he’d first witnessed Andrew going trough withdrawal from his medication. It had been the first time Neil had seen Andrew looking weak. Andrew flicked a rock off the ledge and watched it fall.

“It’d be easy, wouldn’t it? Tragic, too. Perfect end for a traumatised Fox like me, no?” Andrew pulled one knee up to his chest and puffed on his cigarette. Neil breathed in the smoke of his own cigarette and tried not to imagine watching another person he loved die. He’d seen enough of that already.

“If you wanted to die, you’d have done it already,” Neil shrugged, looking out over the campus. “So there has to be something you want to live for.” A moment of comfortable silence fell between them like a blanket over the troubles of the day. Andrew’s next words were quiet, like he didn’t quite want to say them.

“You,” he said. Neil snapped his head to Andrew. He hadn’t been expecting that bit of honesty. “And Aaron, and Kevin and even fucking Nicky,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette. Neil did the same and shifted closer to Andrew, but still kept his distance.

“Why?” he asked. Andrew knew what he meant. Why’d you react so badly?

“He touched me without my permission,” Andrew said. That was enough, Neil understood. But he’d seen the way Andrew’s eyes had shifted at Nicky’s words. He knew there was more to it than that.

“When my dad found out I was ticklish,” Neil started, and it got Andrew’s attention, “he had—he had Lola run knives all over my body. Any time I flinched, or squirmed or laughed, the knives would cut me, just slightly. Every day until I could keep still with a straight face. It took three weeks,” Neil finished. Andrew’s eyes raked Neil’s torso like he could see the scars underneath. He nodded. Andrew knew what Neil was asking. I gave you something, now you give me something. Andrew knew, just like Neil did, that he didn’t have to return the favour. That if he decided he didn’t want to talk about it, Neil wouldn’t push. But Andrew watched his trembling hands for a moment and looked back at Neil.

“Drake found out I was ticklish,” he said simply. Neil felt the words like a blow to the gut, even if he’d been expecting just as much. He nodded. Andrew turned and laid along the concrete ledge, one of his legs still hanging. Neil lit his cigarette again, breathing in the acrid smell of the smoke.

“Nicky’s pretty shaken,” Neil said. Andrew blindly threw another rock off the edge and Neil watched it miss a student on the ground by a few inches.

“I warned him.”

“You can’t keep putting a knife to Nicky’s throat when he does something dumb.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Junkie.”

“I can’t.”

“What?” Andrew sat up, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and staring at Neil.

“I don’t know how many times you’ve told me I can’t put a leash on you. I don’t want to,” Neil said. Andrew raised his eyebrows. “I can’t tell you what to do and I don’t want to tell you what to do.” Neil thought back to the day Andrew had put Neil’s hand on his chest. I won’t be like them, Neil had said. I won’t let you let me be. Neil knew Andrew was thinking it too. “He needs to know something, even the smallest amount, or one day, Nicky’s gonna grow a spine and he’s going to walk away.”

“That’ll be his choice, then,” Andrew said.

“And you’ll let someone that’s supposedly one of your reasons to live go just like that?”

“One down, three to go,” Andrew said, locking eyes with Neil. He’d been holding four fingers up but now there were only three.

“No,” Neil said. Andrew blinked. “You’re not getting rid of me, Drew.” Neil stood and walked closer to Andrew, but stayed out of arm’s reach. “I’ve been running my whole life. I’m tired of it. I’m not running anymore. Not from you.” Neil waited for Andrew to say something, and after a while he started to think that maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. Neil wasn’t very good at doing that, though. Finally, Andrew stood, leaving only inches between him and Neil.

“What would you have me say to Nicky?” Andrew asked, like he didn’t really care for the answer.

“I- you don’t need to tell him why. Not really, anyway. I think just be real with him, Drew. Sit him down and tell him that he needs to respect your boundaries and you don’t want him to touch you unless he specifically asks.”

“I’ve told him,” Andrew responded dryly.

“With a knife to his throat.”

“That should get the message across clearly enough, I think.”

“Andrew,” Neil said because he knew not to say please. That seemed to get Neil’s message across clearly enough, because Andrew took the cigarette—almost burnt down to the butt—from Neil’s hand and let it drop to the ground.

“What are you tired of running from?” Andrew asked. There was a glint of something in Andrew’s eyes then. He wasn’t used to asking for help, but Neil thought this was something close to that. Andrew was admitting something—that he needed Neil.

“Reality,” Neil said. “I’m not used to being a real person. You proved to me that I could be. With you.” Andrew looked away, like the statement was too heavy to bare right now.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked. Neil furrowed his brow, confused.

“Yes,” he said anyway. Andrew nodded.

“I don’t want to be touched right now,” Andrew said. It was Neil’s turn to nod this time, and as he did so, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Andrew took his own hands out of his hoodie and placed one on Neil’s chest, using it like a spacer between them as he leant and kissed Neil.

Andrew tasted like smoke and vanilla and Neil had to clench his hands into fists in his pocket to stop himself from reaching for Andrew, from pulling him closer and kissing him deeper. When Andrew finally broke away, he handed Neil his lighter and the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

“I’ll talk to Nicky,” he said. Neil nodded. As Andrew made his way to the door that would lead him downstairs, he glanced back at Neil.

“Don’t run away, Rabbit.” Neil only sent him a two fingered salute in return.

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg #all for the game #nicky hemmick #kevin day #aaron minyard #tfc #the foxhole court #aftg fanfiction #andreil fanfiction #yes lol here #im sorry

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omnivorousshipper · 3 years ago

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De aged Deckard: You’re gonna go far, kid - Part 15

Summary: When the Shaw siblings try to break into an Eteon facility, they’re met with some unexpected consequences. Now, it’s up to Owen and Hattie to be the older siblings Deckard never had. Even if they have no idea what they’re doing

Part 14

Leaning on a railing, Luke waited in front of the terminal the Shaw siblings would come out of. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering and imagining what Deckard would look like. Sure, he had already seen the pictures Hattie had sent, but that wasn’t anything compared to finally seeing the little boy in the flesh and seeing with his own eyes what had happened to Deckard.

The last time Luke had seen Deckard, he had been wearing only one of his shirts and cooking breakfast for him after a passionate night. Luke had been very proud of the hickies he had left all over the man’s neck and forcing him to wear a turtleneck for a week afterwards. However, if he had known this would be the next time he would be seeing his boyfriend, he wouldn’t have let him go on that heist to infiltrate Eteon. Instead, he would have convinced the man to stay with him and help Sam with the new school year.

Now, he was waiting for the ten year old version of Deckard Shaw.

He still wasn’t sure how it was possible for a grown adult to be turned into a child, but neither Owen or Hattie seemed to have any clue either and hadn’t given him any kind of hint that they were close to figuring out how to change him back. For now, Luke was just going to do his best to help take care of Deckard, especially since he did not trust either of the other Shaws with children. Not when he saw Hattie practically running away from his own nieces and nephews in Samoa. As for Owen… Luke wasn’t going to trust the man with anything.

But, there was another thing Luke wasn’t sure about.

What was Deckard like as a child?

Once he had convinced Deckard that he wasn’t looking for a string of one night stands and sincerely wanted a relationship with the guarded Brit, that’s when Deckard had finally agreed to sleep the full night at Luke’s place. And that was when Luke had witnessed one of Deckard’s many nightmares.

Luke had stayed up working on paperwork while Deckard slept peacefully next to him, until he wasn’t. One second, Deckard was cuddled into his side, fast asleep, and the next moment he was jerking away, eyes staring at something that wasn’t there. Luke had been genuinely scared at Deckard’s reaction- after all, if a trained and hardened assassin was scared of something, then Luke should be scared of it as well.

It had taken quite some time before Deckard finally admitted what his nightmare had been about: his father. Luke hadn’t pressed, especially when all Deckard told him was his back looked like it did because of his father. Luke had assumed the man had been put multiply torture sessions as an MI6 agent to make his back so scarred, Luke could barely find a single piece of skin not marred. It was truly gruesome to look at Deckard’s back, but Luke hadn’t hesitated to kiss every inch of skin he could before Deckard squirmed away, laughing at the sensation.

But now, Luke could only hope that this Deckard wouldn’t have those scars.

Idly looking around, Luke finally spotted the Shaws walking out of the terminal. Pushing off the railing, Luke waved his hand when Hattie’s eyes finally landed on him. Even still far away, he could see the exaggerated eye roll Owen sent him and if they weren’t traveling with a child, Luke would have sent him a rude gesture back. Instead, Luke simply watched the siblings as they approached him.

He couldn’t believe just how tiny Deckard was.

Both Owen and Hattie towered over the boy as he walked between them, his dress swaying with his steps as he clutched the straps of the backpack he was carrying. His head was swiveling all over as he tried to take all of LAX in, and a look of pure wonder shone on his face as he skipped between his siblings. Luke couldn’t help the soft chuckle he let out. Even as a kid, Deckard had been adorable.

“About you guys showed up!” Luke shouted in greeting when they were close enough.

“Someone wanted to go sightseeing.” Hattie spat, sending a dark glare towards Owen, who ignored her completely.

“Where’s Toretto and his crew?”

“Setting up a dinner for you guys.” Luke shrugged. “They wanted to invite Deckard properly.”

“Of course, they did.” Owen rolled his eyes.

“Who?” A small voice drifted up to them. Looking down, Luke hid his cringe as he realized that they had completely talked over Deckard’s head. But, with the boy not even coming up to Luke’s hip, you really couldn’t blame him for forgetting the boy was there.

“A few friends of ours.” Owen smiled down at the boy. “And so is he. Deck, this is Luke Hobbs. A friend of yours and Hatts.”

“Nice to meet you, Deck.” Crouched down and smiled at Deckard. He was half expecting the little boy to hide behind one of his sibling since Luke was so much larger than him. However, Deckard instead stared at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape.

“Do you know Maui?” The little boy asked quietly. Luke blinked at Deckard’s question and frowned.

“He means from ‘Moana’.” Owen chuckled. “No, Deck. He just has similar tattoos.”

“Oh.” Deckard’s amazement seemed to fade only a little bit as he met Luke’s eyes. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hobbs.”

“Just call me Luke, Mr. Hobbs was my dad,” he chuckled and sent a wink to Deckard. The little boy instantly smiled back at him, even if a bit shyly. “You and your siblings will be staying with me for a little while, is that ok?”

Deckard nodded enthusiastically.

“Good, because I have a daughter who’s just about your age who can’t wait to meet you.”

“Really?” Deckard looked so shocked by that, Luke couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. He could feel an underlying guilt from when he made fun of Deckard having no friends when they were adults.

“Definitely. She’s heard all about you and can’t wait to show you all the games she wants to play with you.”

The boy looked as if Luke had just handed him the world on the platter and Luke really wished he didn’t have to see that. Did Deckard have no playmates while growing up?

“Well? Are we going to get going or are we going to chit chat for a while longer?” Hattie drawled, a bored look on her face.

“And here I thought Owen was going to be the bratty one.” Luke said flatly, meeting her irritated gaze.

“Oi!” Owen hissed. “I’m the most reasonable one here!”

“Yeah, no.” Luke told him bluntly. “That’s still Deckard.”

Owen stuttered like a drowning fish.

However, it was a different sound that had all three adults freezing in place. Eyes wide, Luke looked down at Deckard and saw the boy covering his mouth as soft laughter escaped him.

Smiling, Luke still wanted his boyfriend back, but he knew he wouldn’t mind helping take care of the child version of him.

#deckard shaw #luke hobbs #shobbs #hobbs and shaw #owen shaw #hattie shaw #de aged fic #a different de aged fic #omni writes

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arts-and-drafts · 4 years ago

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Legacy (Part 2)

(Continuation of my first FWT fankid AU fic, in which Dream faces his consequences and Fundy goes after his reckless son before it's too late to save him. Enjoy!)

(Tagging @midnightmagi @rose-icosahedron @amazonprimebox @colorfulsiren @strawberrylemonz)

Dream shifted, the first real movement Theo had seen from him. "...I don't have a son." He spoke, his tone low with an unreadable emotion. Theo flattened his ears.

"Actually, you fucking do." Theo snarled, his anger overriding his caution. "But you wouldn't know, since Dad was too afraid of you to say anything."

Dream went still, his mask tilting up to seemingly search Theo's face. "'Dad'...do you--Fundy?" Dream asked, a shred of desperation present in his question.

"Yeah." Theo spat. "Fundy is my dad. He ran away because you cheated on him, and you were gonna start another fucking war."

Dream flinched, only barely, but Theo caught it with a fierce satisfaction. He found the nerve.

"I thought--I thought Fundy was dead--" Dream muttered. "And you...you're mine?"

Dream raised his hand towards Theo, but snatched it back when Theo raised the trident to his throat. "I'm not fucking yours. I'm here to hurt you the way you hurt my dad. Don't get fucking chummy."

Dream paused, again. Theo wished he could rip that mask off to see what he was really thinking.

"What's your name?" Dream asked, slowly and carefully. Theo's lip curled.

"You don't deserve to know."

Dream gently pushed the trident aside, putting his hands up as Theo jerked it right back to his vulnerable chest. "Kid--" Dream started, but Theo cut him off.

"Do you have any fucking idea what you did?! He loved you, and you just threw him into the dirt!! I'm ashamed to share your fucking blood." Theo exploded, spitting all the venom he could muster.

"Listen--" Dream tried to interrupt, his body language tensing the more Theo ripped into him. Theo silenced him by jabbing the trident points against his godly father's chest. "No! YOU fucking listen!!" Theo snapped.

Dream's energy suddenly violently shifted, making the fur on the back of Theo's neck stand on end. Dream grasped the neck of the trident with an iron grip and easily twisted it out of the fox's paws as if he was snatching a toy from a child.

Theo stepped back with wide eyes as Dream advanced, throwing the trident aside carelessly while keeping his undivided attention on his son.

Theo's back hit the strong stalks of bamboo, halting his frantic reversal to escape Dream. He bit down a yell as his other father grabbed his arm and pulled him close, his grip tight and unyeilding.

"Where is Fundy." Dream said. It was not a request, it was an order. Theo bared his fangs. "Fuck you."

"Tell me where he is!!" Dream yelled, yanking Theo closer as he tried to pull away. Theo clenched his free fist and felt it charge with green magic.

"Get off me!!" Theo snarled, his glowing fist being Dream's only warning before it swung dead center into his smiling mask.

Dream flew backwards, Theo crying out in pain as the god pulled the fox's arm hard enough that he heard a small pop in his shoulder before Dream's grip finally broke. Theo's vision blurred with white stars of pain as Dream landed in the pond below, thrown a significant distance from the force of Theo's blow.

Theo gasped and clutched at his arm, a throbbing ache from his shoulder forcefully taking his breath from his lungs. He staggered over to the discarded trident and picked it up with his left paw, holding it close to his chest as his right arm lay useless at his side.

Theo's eyes slowly widened in fear as Dream rose from the pond, crackling bolts of a familiar green energy encasing his entire body. Theo could feel his fury from 50 blocks away.

Theo tightened his grip on the trident, his ears flat to his head as his father started to float menacingly towards him. He was lightheaded with pain and one arm short, but refused to admit defeat. Theo stood his ground and bared his teeth as Dream closed in.

Fundy paced the length of Logstedshire's walls, his mind addled with worry. Theo hadn't been seen since he awoke, something that wasn't abnormal. His son liked the early morning. What worried Fundy was the fact that there was no note telling where he ran off to like there usually was, and he was not in his regular places of comfort outside the walls. He just simply disappeared.

"Could've forgot." Tommy wondered aloud to Fundy from his spot next to the Prime Log. His uncle had been looking for guidance from the vessel all morning, but was met with silence from his deity.

"No." Fundy instantly shot him down, turning in place to pace down the south wall again. "I rammed it into that kid's head to always tell me where he was. He wouldn't have forgotten."

A gust of chill from behind halted Fundy's nervous movement. He sighed and flattened his ears.

"What do you want, Wilbur."

"Hello, Fundy!" Ghostbur greeted cheerfully, unperturbed by his son's cold acknowledgement. "Is little Theo back yet?"

Fundy turned to face him. "You saw him leave?"

"Yes!" Ghostbur said. "He said he needed to take care of something and told me not to tell you--...oh." Ghostbur's face flickered. "Frick."

Fundy moved to grab Ghostbur's arm, his paw passing right through his father's transparent form. "Wil, tell me where he went." Fundy demanded, his voice rigid with fear. Ghostbur's face twisted in guilt.

"He said not to say anything," the spirit said hesitantly. Fundy flattened his ears tight to his head.

"Wilbur. My son is in trouble." Fundy said, driving every spot of desperation he felt into his words. "He's gonna fuck himself over and he's gonna get himself killed if you don't tell me where he went. For once in your fucking existance, Wil, be a good dad."

Fundy exhaled and looked at the ground, blinking tears from his eyes. "If not for me, then--at least for Theo."

Ghostbur had gone very transparent, his eyes far away. For a tense second, Fundy feared his dead father would disappear until he forgot again.

"He went to Technoblade." Ghostbur murmured dazedly, blinking. "He said he needed a weapon."

Fundy ran his paw over his head, his core filling with dread. "Shit. Shit." He tried so long to keep Theo hidden, to protect him, to keep him safe, and it was all falling apart.

Fundy cursed himself. He never should have told his son the truth. This was all his fault.

Fundy looked back up to Ghostbur, desperately searching his eyes. "Is he still there?"

Ghostbur shrugged, and Fundy wanted to tear his fur out.

"He...asked about Dream? I don't know why. He seemed very interested in your marriage." Ghostbur commented. Fundy squeezed his eyes shut, old scars flaring up at his father's words.

"He's going to the SMP." Fundy breathed. He snapped his head to Tommy, who mirrored his look of fear. "Tommy, we have to find him--oh shit, shit, he's going to get himself killed--"

Tommy's hands grabbed Fundy's arms, though the fox didn't notice him rise from the Prime log.

"Fundy--I-I can't go there. Dream will kill me." Tommy said, his voice only imperceptibly trembling. Fundy's shoulders began to shake. "He'll die if we don't, I--"

"Fundy, I can't go with you." Tommy reiterated in a pleading voice. "But you're not exiled like I am."

Fundy blinked. "So--I'm--I'm on my own." He realized. Tommy didn't respond, only pressed his mouth in a thin line.

"I'm--I can't. I can't die." He said, and Fundy could see regret and shame and fear behind his uncle's eyes.

Fundy stilled. "I...understand."

"You won't be alone!" Ghostbur piped up from behind them, his voice already back to its raspy happiness. Fundy set his jaw.

"Ghostbur. You need to stay with Tommy. You'll just fuck it up." Fundy stated, disdain dripping from his words. He turned away from his uncle and the ghost of his father, steeling himself for leaving Logstedshire for the first time.

"Fundy." Tommy said, and the fox paused. "Take whatever you need." His uncle said. Fundy turned to see Tommy gesturing to the storage house.

Tommy was a hoarder. After the visits from Dream, the boy had squirreled away everything he could get his hands on, hidden from the explosive fate that all the rest of his belongings had suffered. Tommy was possessive and greedy, but here he was, opening his entire supply of preperations to his nephew.

Fundy swallowed, a task that had suddenly become difficult. "Thank you, Tommy." He struggled, never one to know how to express his gratitude in his words. His father was the poet, after all. Not him.

Tommy nodded regardless, and Fundy got the feeling that he knew what his nephew was trying to convey.

Fundy made quick work of packing. Food, armor, axe. A golden apple just in case. He stopped, and then grabbed a second.

There was no such thing as too careful against Dream.

Before he sealed his pack, Fundy took a deep breath. Time was a medicine, and had helped Fundy heal from his former husband shattering him into pieces.

Going right back to the man who hurt him so badly could only end as such, and Fundy would never attempt it on his own.

But the greatest gift that came from Dream was Theo, and he meant more to Fundy than anything else in the realms. He was not about to abandon him to the fate of his divine father, no matter how bad it would hurt to go back.

Fundy clipped the top of his pack together and slung it over his shoulder.

For Theo, he would do anything. If that meant facing his hell to save his son, then so be it.

Ghostbur was gone when Fundy returned, and he didn't care. Good riddance. In the past, he would have felt a small twinge of guilt, but that was a long time ago.

Tommy saw him off, waving solemnly from the walls of Logstedshire. Fundy knew Tommy had done all he could, but the fox couldn't help but feel a very small twist of abandonment. Fundy was more than willing to risk his life for Theo, and a part of him wished Tommy was too.

Fundy shook his head. That was unfair to think. He focused on the horizon, his breath fogging in the morning air, and sent a silent wish to whatever god would listen that his son would be okay when he found him.

#fwt fankid #legacy #meraki post #dream smp #angst

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jenonctcity · 5 years ago

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My Addiction - Part 1

Differences – Lee Donghyuck

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au

Warnings: Drug Use, Violence, Explicit Sex, Sex under the Influence.

Word Count: 5.6k

Lee Donghyuck would punch you if you addressed him by that name. Instead, it was best to call him Haechan, which is the name he much preferred, the name he had given to himself after he’d moved out of his parents house and decided to make his own living instead of leeching off of mummy and daddy. Don’t get him wrong, he loved getting money thrown at him to keep him out of his parents’ hair, but he resented his father, and didn’t want anything more from him after the age of seventeen. He was very close to his father when he was growing up, but the day he walked in on his father fucking his secretary, his opinion changed, and he couldn’t even look his father in the eye without wanting to hurt him. His grades started to drop at school, and eventually he dropped out. He ended up living in a shared apartment with the only people he thought he could trust - Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun. He realised he needed money to live, and without anything to prove he did well at school since he didn’t take any exams, he did what most people frown upon. He became a drug dealer. And a very successful one at that. To give himself a more edgier appearance he got some tattoos, cut a slit into his eyebrow, grew his hair out longer to give it a messy appearance, and involuntarily got a scar on his cheekbone that he tells people he got from a fist fight, but in reality he got it when walked into a doorframe from trying to see if he could navigate with way around the apartment with his eyes shut. He’d tried to avoid actively taking the drugs that he sold, but it was hard not to when he remembered he was keeping his dad’s infidelity a secret from his mum. He found that a line of cocaine helped, and if anyone tried to tell him otherwise, they’d get a smack on the nose.

It wasn’t long until he was the most sought-after drug dealer in their local area, and he was soon rolling in money, and pussy. Women threw themselves at him left and right, and who was he to decline half an hour of intense pleasure that would end in a sweet orgasm. He liked to pride himself in the fact that he wasn’t as much of a slut as Renjun, which he often said to the poor boy’s face. Every other weekend, he’d help out at his uncle’s mechanics, manly to maintain face with the law so if they came knocking at his door asking how he had so much money, he’d be able to say that he has a legit job. Plus he enjoyed toying with cars and keeping himself busy on the weekends that Renjun would have a screaming baby in the apartment.

The cool air of night sent a shiver down Haechan’s spine as he stepped out of the crowded club, his thick leather jacket not doing a good job in keeping him warm. The music faded to a muffled booming noise as he walked down the street, tucking his hands into his pocket to try and maintain the warmth within his fingers. His cheeks felt hot despite the cold air slapping against them, the alcohol in his system slowing wearing off the more he walked down the dark streets. He hadn’t had much to drink, but after his third drink his cheeks went red and felt hotter than a pool of lava.

“Get off of me you creep.” He heard a high-pitched voice command in a rather calm manner. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head to look down the alley way beside him that was light by nothing but dim moonlight.

“Come on baby, just a quickie.” He could see the silhouettes of two people stumbling around in the pitch black, both figures faceless from the lack of light, but he didn’t think the stumbling was from alcohol, rather from the girl trying to push the man away from her.

“No get fucked you pervert.” The sound of skin slapping skin made his eyes widen as he assumed someone had been slapped, but he was unsure who had slapped who.

“You little skank!” One silhouette shoved the other up against the wall and Haechan saw your figure under the small ray of moonlight that slipped through the gap in between the buildings.

“Oi!” He shouted into the alleyway and walked up to you, grabbing you by the elbow and frowning at you. He could see your face clearer now that he was less than a metre away from you. Your face looked confused as you looked up at him, slightly tugging your arm back from him. “I wondered where you’d gone baby. Come on we’re going home.” He started to drag you out of the alleyway, wanting to avoid confrontation with the man if he could.

“Hey what the fuck do you think you’re doing? She’s mine for the night.” The man slurred, following after you both. Haechan noticed that the man was taller than him, but he didn’t care. His jaw clenched and he pushed you behind him as the man followed you out to the main street where it was brightly lit by streetlights.

“Back off.” Haechan growled, folding his arms across his chest with an eyebrow raised.

“What are you gonna do big man?” He reached out to ruffle Haechan’s hair and as he did, Haechan grabbed his wrist and shoved the man up against the wall. He grabbed him by the collar, getting the pocketknife he kept in his pocket out and flicking it open. He held it against the man’s neck and smirked at him.

“Do you really want to find out? Big man.” The mans face paled in colour, and he shook his head. Haechan let go of him and gave him a shove. “Fuck off.” The man scurried off and Haechan smirked, turning around to face you as he put the knife back in his pocket.

“You finished showing off?” You stood with your arms folded, jutting your hip out as you rested your weight on your right leg, your eyebrow raised and an unimpressed look on your face. Haechan frowned in confusion and shock at your reaction. He couldn’t deny how attractive he found you, stood there in your navy-blue dress that hugged your figure perfectly, paired with a pair of black, high heeled boots with your hair blowing in the wind. He was amazed that you were shivering from the cold.

“What?” He tilted his head, putting his hands in his pocket as he attempted to stare you down. You didn’t feel intimidated by him, yeah you thought he was attractive, and the red rose tattoo with a black and white skull he had on the left side of his neck was making you weak in the knees, his naturally black hair had a messy look to it, like he’d had a thousand pair of hands running through it.

“As hot as that was, I had it under control. Next time, mind your own business.” You said with sass that was more intimidating than bratty. Haechan had never had a woman speak to him in that way before, and he was utterly baffled. He was expecting you to show him gratitude, not give him a telling off.

“Like you had it under control Princess, you were a minute away from being some crackheads cock sleeve.” His scowl told you that he didn’t like your attitude, but you could care less.

“No I wasn’t.” You snapped, starting to storm off down the street, a sway in your walk from how high your boots were. He followed you, finding you interesting and strangely not liking how you were just leaving him there.

“A thank you would be nice.” He caught up with you and walked beside you. You glanced his way with a scowl, looking him up and down and noticing he had quite long legs that were clad with black skinny jeans. You also noticed the tattoo he had on the back of his hand, it was of a lion’s face and it looked incredibly detailed.

“I’m not thankful though.” You grunted, looking forward and pretending that you weren’t freezing your ass off in the wind. “Why are you following me?”

“I’m waiting for you to say thank you.” He deadpanned, keeping up with your quick pace with his own long strides.

“Thank you. Now do one.” He smirked to himself but made no effect to change his direction. “I thanked you, why are you still following me?!” You raised your voice, getting irritated with him.

“I’m just making sure that you get home safely.” He shrugged, pulling off his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders. If you didn’t feel like your nipples were about to fall off from being so cold, you would have told him to shove his jacket up where the sun doesn’t shine. But because you feared for your nipples, you accepted the jacket with a roll of your eyes.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, actually meaning your gratitude this time but not daring to look at him. He gave you a genuine smile, shivering but trying not to be bothered by it as he walked you home. You got to a block of apartments, not too far from where his own apartment building was situated, and you turned to him. “This is me; you can go now.” You shrugged off the jacket and held it out to him.

“What’s your name?” He asked out of the blue, biting his bottom lip as he stared you up and down once more, his eyes dragging over your figure slowly.

“(Y/N). Thanks Hyuck.” You turned and entered the building, not paying him anymore attention as you let the door shut behind you in his face. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle, deciding that he liked your spunk as he pulled his jacket back on. He definitely wanted to come across you against at some point. He froze suddenly, his eyes widening as he realised that you had called him by the nickname he went by when he was growing up.

He suddenly felt like he needed to see you again even more.

---

You were seeing red. How dare someone think they could stand up your friend on a date they had arranged. Not on your watch. Your friend didn’t know where he lived, but you called around and as soon found out where Lee Jeno lived, you were stood in front of his door with your fists clenched, pounding on the wood. The door flung open and a tall boy with broad shoulders answered, his blond shaggy hair flopping over his forehead but you could still see his dark eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?” He asked, his voice deep and his eyes raked up your body slowly.

“Are you Lee Jeno?” You raised your own eyebrows, tapping your foot impatiently on the floor as you folded your arms over your chest.

“Nope, hang on.” He turned his head and shouted out into the apartment. “Jeno! Come here, you’re wanted!”

“Who is it Jaemin?” A deep voice called back.

“Some girl!” He stepped back as another tall boy emerged from within the apartment, his hair as blond as the other boys but his pushed off of his forehead with an undercut. You felt slightly intimidated by this guy’s harsh gaze, his strong facial features making him look scary despite how much of a neutral face he was pulling. This must be Lee Jeno.

“Do I know y-” He was cut off by your fist connecting to his jaw, his eyes widening and his face flinching, but apart from that he hardly reacted. Jaemin’s mouth popped open and he was quick to put himself between you and Jeno. He put his hands on Jeno’s shoulders as Jeno went to step forward, clearly not amused that you had laid your hands on him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are huh?!” You shouted at him, trying to get past Jaemin so you could let Jeno have it again. You weren’t scared of him, and you felt a huge rush of adrenaline at the thought of fighting someone like Jeno.

“Fuck off little girl.” He growled, trying to get past Jaemin. He wasn’t going to hurt you, he just wanted to frighten you, as he felt like you were getting way too cocky with him.

“No! Why did you stand Leah up?!” You screamed at him, trying your hardest to get past Jaemin but the tall boy didn’t seem to be budging.

“Haechan help me out here!” Jaemin shouted into the apartment, starting to sound slightly out of breath from holding the two of you apart. All of a sudden, another body wedged its way between you and Jeno. Your frowned and completely stopped when you saw the man who’d walked you home just nights before.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You looked at him in confusion.

“I live here. What the fuck are you doing here?” He quipped straight back, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Trying to beat up this bitch.” You motioned to Jeno with a nod of your head. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re trying to beat up someone who fights for a living. You’re dumb.” You scowled at him as he turned around to Jaemin and Jeno. “I’ll handle this.” He grabbed his jacket and keys shutting the door behind him. “Let’s grab some coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee.”

“Then have some water, I don’t give a fuck.” He shrugged, nudging you as he started to walk, urging you to walk with him. You rolled your eyes but followed him anyway. He had on a soft looking grey jumper, paired with ripped, denim jeans. If you couldn’t see all of his tattoos and his eyebrow slit, you’d assume he was just an average boy who didn’t casually carry a knife on him.

“Why are we getting coffee?” You questioned, following him out of the apartment building and to his car. The sun was starting to set, leaving a golden and amber hue of light on the metal of his car.

“Because. Get in.” He nodded towards the car, unlocking it and climbing into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger’s seat and put your belt on, sighing as you relaxed into the comfortable seats of the Mercedes. The car roared to life, the car rumbling as he revved the engine. It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the nearest drive through Starbucks. “What do you want?” He turned to look at you, his arm resting on the door of the car with only one of his hands on the steering wheel. He looked hot; you couldn’t deny that. But you refused to let him know that, so you kept up the not bothered attitude.

“Surprise me.” You shrugged, picking at a loose thread on your mom jeans. He ordered for you both, which you didn’t pay attention to as you completely zoned out, subtly rubbing your knuckles which ached a bit from striking Jeno’s strong jaw. He passed the cup holder to you and drove out of the car park. You didn’t bother asking where he was taking you, not really caring as you stared out of the window. The scenery slowly changed from the visual of the city, to dense trees as he drove out towards the outskirts of the city. It was getting darker out, and small drops of rain hit the windscreen as he sped through the country lanes, eventually pulling onto a dirt track and stopping in a small clearing which was used as a small car park for dog walkers.

He turned off the engine, taking off his seatbelt and turning his body to angle slightly towards you. He took one of the cups from the holder and sipped it, keeping his eyes on you. You picked up the remaining cup, glancing over at him as you timidly sipped from the cup.

“Hot chocolate?” You let out a soft laugh, feeling the warmth of liquid as it slid down your throat.

“Do you like it?” He raised an eyebrow, sipping his own drink again.

“Mhm…so…why am I here?”

“How do you know my name?” He got straight to the point, placing his cup in one of the cup holders and clearing his throat.

“We went to the same school.” You shrugged, also placing your drink in one of the cup holders.

“We did? I don’t remember you…” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at your face to take in all of your details to see if his memory would be jogged.

“No, you wouldn’t remember me. I was quiet and kept to myself.” You awkwardly cleared your throat, not really wanting to speak about your school life with him. “How can you afford a car like this?” You wanted to change the subject, and you hoped using a topic such as cars would be a good distraction.

“Are you sure you want to know?” He smirked, moving a hand up to rub at his jaw. You watched his fingers as they caressed the soft looking skin of his face, your eyes trailing up to his piercing brown eyes that were almost covered by his sleek, black har. You nodded in confirmation, letting your eyes travel back down his jaw and to his neck. The inside of the car was lit up by a single light, but you could see every detail of the stunning young man sat in front of you. “I sell drugs.” He said it as if it was nothing. He wasn’t ashamed of his job title, but he knew if the wrong person knew about what he did to make money, then it would cause a problem.

“Oooooh dangerous man.” You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“I can be dangerous if you get on the wrong side of me, but luckily for you,” His gaze moved from your face to your chest, slowly travelling back to your eyes. “you excite me.”

“How?” You felt your heart flutter, unsure of how he was having such an effect on you, but you pinned it down to just finding him overly attractive and probably needing a good fuck.

“No girl has ever spoke to me the way you have, and I want nothing more than to put you in your place.” His voice seemed to deepen, and his hand landed on your thigh. You glanced down to his hand and then back to his face.

“Put me in my place?” You smirked, glancing up at the ceiling before letting out a sultry laugh. He watched you with a hard stare, his hand gripping your thigh tighter as it slowly travelled higher up your thigh towards your core. “How?”

“I’ll fuck you so hard and so good, you’ll be screaming my name so loud that you won’t have a voice left to backchat me.” He leaned in, pressing a very soft kiss to your jawline that you hardly felt it. His breath was warm against your skin made a tickling sensation ripple down your spine.

“Oh yeah?” You tried to play it cool, but your voice wavered, and your hands started to shake.

“Mmm.” His other hand came up to cup your cheek, tilting your head back to give him better access to run his lips over your neck. “I’m going to take you on the backseat of the car I bought with drug money, your tight little pussy is going to be so wet but if you make any mess on my leather seats, I’m going to make you regret it baby girl.” Your hold on your dignity and tough façade slipped as you let out a gentle whimper, his words making your puss throb in need. “Call me Haechan.” He didn’t want you to moan the name you knew him by, feeling as if it would ruin the mood for him.

“Put me in my place…Haechan.” He moved his lips to yours, mashing them against yours in a hot, filthy kiss that was full of tongue and passion. You tried your hardest to win the battle, but ultimately, he won, his tongue infiltrating your mouth as his lips moved in perfect time with your own. He sat back in his seat, grabbing you by the hips and dragging you over to sit on his lap. You ground down against his crotch, moving your lips to his neck where his tattoo was. He smirked, his cock getting harder the more pressure you put on it.

“Do you like my tattoo baby girl?” He moaned, his eyelids drooping as he basked in the pleasure you were bestowing upon him. You nodded, nipping at his skin as you circled your hips. “Fuck, get in the back. Now.” He commanded, giving your ass a squeeze. You scrambled into the back, nearly kicking him in the face as you tried to squish yourself through the small gap between the front seats. He used the doors as his way of getting into the back, shutting the backdoor as he slid into the back. You smirked at him, sat facing him with your legs open.

“You gonna put me in my place now?” You raised an eyebrow, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. He growled lowly in his throat, grabbing your legs and pulling you towards him so that your body slid down onto the backseats. He pushed your hoodie up, happy to find that you didn’t have a t-shirt on underneath, and he had easy access to your bra. He leaned over you, placing kisses across your breast and nipping at them as he pushed your bra up. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth, he tugged it with his teeth before giving it a long, hard suck. Your mouth fell slack, a euphoria of feelings starting to blossom inside of your stomach as you watched his pouty lips work at your nipple. He used his thumb and finger to play with your other nipple, making sure it got just as much attention as the one in between his wet lips. With a pop, he let go of your nipple, trailing his tongue down your abdomen, leaving a wet trail of saliva as he reached your jeans. He made light work of taking off your jeans, tossing them onto the front seat so they weren’t in his way. He was happy to see that there was a damp spot on your silky white panties. Your wetness making the fabric stick to your pussy as he pulled them down your legs. He slipped them into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk.

You started to feel really hot, despite the chill outside of the car. The windows fogged up, and you regretted wearing a hoodie as it was now pushed up underneath your chin. Haechan must have gotten hot too, as he pulled the jumper from his body and discarded of it in the same place that your jeans were. Your eyes were glued on his chest, noticing a tattoo of bird wings that stretched across his entire chest and met in the middle, where a heart was. It wasn’t the design of an actual heart, but more of the commonly known sign for a heart with the heart being the only coloured part of the tattoo. Attached to the heart, was a snake’s head biting into the heart with its fangs. It was then you let your eyes follow the snake’s body, which wrapped around one of the wings before descending down his arm, the tail ending just above his wrist. You also noticed that on his right arm he had an entire sleeve of tattoos, all of them blending perfectly together, some coloured, some black. You whimpered at the sight, too focused on the artwork on his body to notice that his mouth was hovering over your dripping cunt. He was staring at up you, waiting for your eyes to find his own as he watched them scale over his torso. He smirked as you looked at his face once more, his tongue dragging from your clenching hole to your sensitive clit, his hot breath making a chill rush through you.

“Wait!” He pulled away suddenly and looked down at you with cautious eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Erm…have you got anything on you?” You timidly asked, biting your bottom lip in anticipation at his answer.

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head in curiosity.

“…Drugs.” Your voice wavered, nervous to his reaction to you asking him for drugs.

“Oh. Yeah, but I’ve only got one type I think.” He reached forward into the front of the car, opening the glove compartment on the dash and pulling out a sunglasses case. He also grabbed a little silver packet and sat back against the backdoor. You watched as he opened the glasses case, pulling out a little bag of pills.

“Ecstasy?” You asked, but you already knew the answer. He gave you a curt nod and spoke with a low tone.

“You done this before?” He raised the eyebrow that had a slit in it at you. You nodded eagerly and gulped, not willing to tell him the story about your drug use that you kept hidden in a deep place within you. He felt slightly hesitant about giving you the drug but pulled one of the pink pills that were shaped like a teddy bear out of the tiny packet. “Open.” You opened your mouth and held out your tongue slightly, watching with keen eyes as he popped the pill on his own tongue and leaned forward, pushing his tongue against your own and successfully transferring the pill into your mouth. You swallow the pill without any hesitancy or regret and laid back against the seat as he put the glasses case with the pills back into glove compartment. He got back into position and started to lap at your still oozing cunt.

“Fuck! Haechan!” You squealed, parting your legs further and resting one of your feet on the headrest of the backseat, the other rising up so that your knee was pressed to your chest. It was cramped in the back of his car, but you were thankful, as he had no choice but to be as close to you as he possibly could be. He swirled his tongue around your folds, spreading your essence with his sinful tongue. His pouty lips wrapped around your clit and sucked harshly causing your hips to buck. The taste of your wetness almost had his eyes rolling into the back of his head. And if it were up to him, he’d happily eat your cunt all night. But eventually, after twenty minutes of eating you out like he was eating his last meal on death row, his twitching cock in his pants had other ideas and sent him a little reminder that he wanted to bury himself so deep inside of your warmth that he could see his cock poking through your stomach. So he reluctantly pulled his messy fingers from your velvety walls and let your clit go from between his lips. Your legs were shaking from the orgasm he’d given you, and you knew he was stalling to give the drug you’d taken time to kick in.

He sat back, unzipping his jeans and pulling his member out. He let out a soft moan as he wrapped his hand around it, giving it a firm pump as pre-cum leaked from the tip. He ripped the silver packet and took out the condom, rolling it onto his cock and pressing the head against your opening. He looked into your eyes and noticed that your pupils had double in size, and your eyes were slightly wider as you stared up at the ceiling of his car, a big smile plastered on your face.

“You good baby?” He tapped your leg to gain your attention back on his face. You raised your head and blinked rapidly at him, nodding your head in confirmation and letting out a giddy laugh. You felt happiness hit you, and you felt like you wanted to give Haechan a big kiss and cling onto him out of gratitude for the orgasm he’d blessed you with. He chuckled at you and rolled his eyes; just glad you were seemingly enjoying yourself. Without any warning, he slid his cock inside of you, a deep moan vibrating from his chest as your silky walls sucked him in perfectly. Your arms went limp and they laid either side of your head uselessly.

“Shit.” You gasped, letting your head fall back and knock on the door of the car. “Ow.” You mumbled, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the pain rumble around your head before it subsided. Haechan didn’t wait for you to adjust, he just started to thrust into you as hard and as fast as he could. You kept your eyes pinned on his arm, swearing you could see the snake tattoo on his arm move its tail, looking like it was constricting his arm. His lips found purchase on your neck, and he bit at it hard, sucking a dark bruise onto your sweaty skin before licking at the salty skin, finding you more addicting than any drug he could possibly take. He varied between fast thrusts and slow thrusts, stopping momentarily every thirty seconds or whenever you went suspiciously quiet just to check up on you.

You couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but the knot inside of your stomach tightened like the snake around Haechan’s arm until it snapped and you could see fireworks going off inside of the car as your orgasm rushed over you like a tsunami of cold water.

“Fuck baby.” He moaned, feeling how your walls pulsed around him. He leaned down and rested his forehead on your breasts, shutting his eyes with so much force that he saw stars behind his eyelids. High pitched whimpers, that had you wrapping your arms around him tight, left his parted, plump lips as his thrusts got sloppy. He came inside of the condom with one final moan, his eyes slowly opened as he rode out his orgasm, his hips slowly to a stop before he pulled out of you, reaching for some of the Starbucks napkins in the cupholder to use for the clean-up. He tucked his cock away after throwing the condom out of the car.

“It’s bad to litter.” You commented, sitting yourself up and feeling like you didn’t have much control over your jaw as it swayed.

“Shh.” He hushed you and dressed you, both of you sitting in the back of his car the way the car manufacturer had intended people to actually use the backseat of a car. He had his arm around you and let out a soft laugh. He still hadn’t put his jumper on, but he had cracked open one of the windows an inch to let some of the cold night air in. You cuddled up against his shoulder, feeling a strange loved up sensation that made you want to never let go of him. He didn’t mind, he knew it was one of the side effects of the drug he’d supplied you with. He also loved cuddles, not that ever let anyone know that or admit it if someone accused him of it.

“Mum…” You read out loud, causing him to look down at you with a confused frown.

“Huh?”

“Your tattoo. It’s a sunflower and it says mum on the stem.” You pointed out, not really sure why you were letting your mouth run when it didn’t really need to be spoken about. But the beautiful sunflower tattoo he had on the inside of his arm next to the snake tail had your heart spitting in wonder. In very tiny letters, the word mum was written in Korean characters. “Ha…mummy’s boy.” You sniggered. He rolled his eyes and pulled away from you, pulling on his jumper awkwardly.

“I ain’t no mummy’s boy.” He climbed through to the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. “I’m taking you home.” You rushed to climb through to the passenger’s seat, wanting to be beside him for the journey. “How bad are your come downs?” He glanced at you as he started to drive. You picked up your now cold hot chocolate and sipped at it, shrugging and humming.

“Not bad.” You lied, not wanting to tell him the truth. You didn’t want him to know that side of you. He wasn’t your friend, nor was he your boyfriend. And you sure as hell weren’t his responsibility. He was simply someone you knew from school who you fucked in the middle of nowhere. This thought had your heart aching, and you felt the start of your come down taking full effect. He gave you a small nod and drove the rest of the way in silence.

When he stopped outside of your apartment building, he turned his head to you, giving you a smirk. “We should do this again, no strings attached though.”

“Okay. No strings attached.” You agreed. If there were no strings attached, then there was nothing that could snap and hurt you. Right?

You exchanged numbers and climbed out of his car into the cold night, feeling a horrible surge of nausea rush over you. But you couldn’t tell if it was the ecstasy, or your new drug, Haechan.

---

I haven’t proof read this yet so sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes! Let me know what you think! Haechan has been the most anticipated member for this series so I’m really excited to know what you think of the plot so far! Let me know! What do you think is going to happen in Part 2?)

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im-like-if-a-girl · 4 years ago

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*THE* mean-girl-dean-girl's Supernatural reboot MEGAPOST!

I'm gonna stick a little "keeping reading" here because hoooooo boy, this is a very long post.

Let's start with

Plot

Season 1

Dean kills John while they are out on a hunt in a crime of passion, but Dean doesn't remember because he blacked out. Cue Dean going to Stanford to get Sam and tell him "Dad's on a hunting trip... and he hasn't been home in a couple days."

The audience doesn't know what happened to John, but slowly figures it out with Dean and Sam as Dean slowly remembers what happened that night.

The entire first season, the boys are following the trail John left and fighting monsters as well. They find out Dean was with John, Sam realizes Dean has an unreliable memory, they have heart to hearts about their childhood and the fire, they find John's body, "how could you kill Dad?" but maybe Dean didn't kill dad, whooaaaaaa, misdirection.

It was actually good ole yeller eyes (Azazel) and he made it look like Dean killed John.

Okay, now let's move on to the first episode

Not sure how the opening would work, I would like the story of the fire to be revealed over the course of the first season, but maybe the opening scene could be a little bit of an establishing character relationships and backstory, idk, I haven't thought that far yet.

I'm thinking maybe it's like, Dean gets back to a motel room covered in blood and he listens to a voicemail on his phone from John saying he was on a hunt or something, I don't really know lol.

HOWEVER

I do know that after the intro rolls, we get a scene of Sam waking up to his alarm and "Nine to Five" by Dolly Parton starts playing.

Y'all know where this is going.

Cue a montage of Sam's normal Stanford college life (him sitting through lectures, walking through the campus with friends) spliced with scenes of Dean absolutely slaughtering a nest of vampires (or some other monsters, whatever works best.)

But

Now onto

Characters!!! (And descriptions)

Dean Winchester

Some lovely person on this site made edits of Dean with platinum blond hair and it made me feel some kind of way so we're doing that, homie's gonna have platinum blond hair

Side note about the hair, later when the brothers are running from the FBI he dyes it a dirty blond/light brown (insert jackles hair color controversy here) as a disguise.

He also gets tattoos because we were robbed.

Speaking of tattoos, concept: when Dean comes back from Hell, all of his tattoos are gone. His body is a clean slate, devoid of tattoos, scars, etc. So he gets his tattoos done all over again, which he doesn't mind because he made some bad, drunk tattoo decisions in his youth.

(And before you ask, yes, he does get one for Cas, either a bee or Cas's name in enochian, something cute.)

Dean goes to therapy after Sam gets sent to the Cage.

It's actually court mandated because he got in trouble, lol, he would never go to therapy on his own.

Along with the hair, Dean gets to be the grade A twunk we all know he is.

Sam Winchester

His hair gets longer in every scene he's in

No jk, but imagine

King of Microaggressions

Sam starts off like the sweetheart he is in season 1 but in later seasons he starts enjoying killing a little too much...

It's that demon blood, ba-by!!!

He brings up issues of morality to Dean, i.e. killing monsters who aren't hurting anyone. (Yes I know this is contradictory to my previous statement, but these two facets of Sam can and will coexist.)

Sam and Jess's relationship is explored further, meaning we'll need to start with a different inciting incident, but that's fine, I think everyone can agree fridgings are *(thumbs down)*

Sam doesn't truly know what happened the night of the fire until later, and then he understands why Dean is so protective of him.

Jess

She gets to live beyond the first episode

She is also trans

No, I don't feel like I have to explain myself and I won't 💜

She urges Sam to join Dean in a search for their brother, kind of gets pulled into the hunter lifestyle by association lol.

She dies on a rusty nail after fighting vampires on a routine hunt with Sam

No jk!!!

But imagine....

She's amazing and I love her and Lucifer also uses her as leverage against Sam and possesses her because I think that'd be cool.

She supports Sam 100% and also she and Dean are buddies, pals if you will.

She meets Cas Thee El and immediately she Knows, that is a homosexual.

She dies still so that we can have a Saileen Endgame but she's not dying the first episode or in a fridging. Not on my watch.

Castiel

He gets to keep his raw, light-fixture-exploding power.

I want more of that "I pulled you out of hell, I can throw you back in" energy except over dumb shit like Dean not cleaning up after himself.

He looks like a Dilf in every scene he's in, yeah, that's right, dilf with a capital D for *(GUNSHOTS)* *(gets sent to horny jail)*

Claire

She gets pink hair

And more time with Cas

And maybe a nose piercing

Feel like she should be able to kill a couple angels onscreen, punch a couple homophobes

She gets to meet Jack and teaches him swears and fun slang words.

She deserves it.

Jack

I says "that's my baby and I'm proud."

Jack starts off as a baby, but like Amara he grows up super quickly.

Like, baby to 11 year old in a couple days or less.

This is because Jack's emotional age on the show is on par with that of a 5th grader.

It's at this point when he's a young kid that he runs away from the Bunker and shenanigans ensue.

It's also at this point that Dean threatens to k*ll him.

(Still not sure if I want that in my Supernatural (threatened infanticide? In my Supernatural? It's more likely than you think) but we'll see. We'll see.)

Throughout a majority of season 13, Jack is like an 11 y.o. kid

Season 14 he's like a 16 y.o. teenager

Season 15 he's 21, you get the picture.

Listen, I love Alex Calvert a lot. He's great.

But Jack is a child and should be a child.

Kelly Kline

Kelly, baby, stay right where you are, you're perfect.

Eileen

SHE DOESN'T DIE

SHE GETS TO BE IN THE FINALE BECAUSE SHE'S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER.

BLURRY WIFE WHO? I ONLY KNOW SAILEEN ENDGAME!

She teaches Claire and Jack swears in sign-language. Castiel is not impressed.

John

J*hn W*nchester stans, DNI.

He's dead.

We only see him in flashbacks and only sometimes hear his voice in voice overs.

He's not "down the road" from Dean in Heaven, in fact he instead gets to wander around in some Purgatory like Hell for the rest of his time :)

People who get to say "fuck" on the show:

Cas (but only Once)

Jody

Bobby

Now onto other things

I want more of

Ghostfacers

(they need more screentime because I love them)

Dean/Benny

We know they had a thing.

They definitely had a thing.

Demon Dean

Again, I feel like more should've been done with this. All that build up for what, 2 episodes? was not utilized well at all.

Dean's Bisexuality

Straight Dean truthers DNI, my Supernatural is a show about love and being true to yourself

You think Supernatural is a show about 2 straight brothers fighting monsters?

Naw bitch, this is a show about the Gay Experience

He will get to have relations with men on this show.

Of course, only after John dies does he, y'know, display it. Maybe he kisses Cas on his dad's grave just to fuck John over, make him roll in grave.

We all agree John would be/is a homophobe piece of shit, right?

Okay, glad we're on the same page.

Dads

3 men and a baby with Jack is what I'm saying.

I love it when the Trio are father-figures to younger troubled characters they see themselves in, even better if it's like reluctant-but-loving father figure, oh, that trope gets me every time :'^)

Dadstiel and DadDean are my favorites, but I like it when Sam plays "Uncle Sam" to kids too lol.

"Fellas, is it gay to want a tight knit family with your husband, his son, his vessel's daughter, your brother, his wife, your cop mother figure and her wife and their adopted daughters? Asking for a friend."

Garth

Biggest flaw of Supernatural was underutilizing Garth.

I will never not be bitter that Garth was only in like, 7 episodes out of the whole 15 season series.

Every episode with Garth gets immediately 5 times better.

I love Garth.

Follow ups on characters who had entire episodes featured around them and then just... vanished???

This is mostly about Jesse, the magic kid whose imagination ruled an entire town like, his daddy was a demon and nothing came of that kid??? Only one episode about him?? No follow up???

KID CAN MANIPULATE REALITY AND WE'RE NOT GONNA GET A FOLLOW UP ON THAT?????

Uh, there was that one episode with Ennis the guy whose girlfriend was killed by a monster? I think?? Who we never see again, that was weird.

Tamara from season 3, episode 1.

And of course-

Cassie

She was so cool, and then we never saw her again :////

She gets to be a badass.

Religious imagery

As a former Catholic school student who has become for the most part, disillusioned with religion, religious imagery in TV shows like Supernatural make my brain go "brrrrrr."

Fun episodes!!!

Like, after season 6 or so, there's a drop in funny episodes

I'm talking Changing Channels, The French Mistake type stuff. (Scoobynatural is an outlier and should not be counted.)

So anyway

In my version we would have more fun episodes

I'm thinking

GENDER-SWAP EPISODE, BABY!!

(why they didn't do that in the original, we'll never know.)

An episode where Dean gets to wear eyeliner

That's it, end of post.

I want less

Racism

Yeah I feel like this is self explanatory, nearly every reoccurring character in SPN is white, and black side characters normally die in the episode they first appear in, or they'll be featured as a villain (Uriel, Raphael, Billie, etc)

Also there's a lot of... uh... asian fetishism featured in the show (what with "Busty Asian Beauties) that's really gross, also Kevin was a bit of a stereotype...

Also also it's super yucky how they kill the gods from other religions like???? Uh??? That's super disrespectful, let's not do that????

I know Supernatural is like, inherently racist because monsters are a separate race that are seen as some dangerous "other" that must be eradicated by hunters in a form of genocide-

Okay we won't get into that but

Still

Stop killing all your POC

Fridgings/Unecessary murders of female characters

I know Supernatural starts with a fridging, so this will be a hard thing to remedy, but

One death that really pissed me off was the death of Charlie

Yeah, that was pointless and we're not doing that. Charlie gets to live and be an awesome aunt to Jack.

And also Claire

Charlie Bradbury Superiority

Charlie and Garth get to meet because they're nerd/geek solidarity.

British Men of Letters

I fucking hate these guys

They're "litcherally" the worst.

The worst part is that the actors they have playing the British AREN'T. EVEN. BRITISH.

And you can tell

Uh, and that's all for now, I'll add more later.

tag list for people who liked my "if this post gets one like I'll post my SPN reboot masterpost" post.

@darianyunidi @sarasidlesaid @crazybananaalpaca @playfulpanthress @ultfreakme @fififeelsmellow @heller-char @luna8eaton @princessmeganfire @insanebot109 @queenofnightsnow @mongoose-underthehouse

Thank you for the support, hope the wait was worth it.

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tanyawritesstories · 4 years ago

Text

Living the Dream | Commander Wolffe x Reader Modern AU

So everybody knows about Wolffe and his breeding kink, so I brought the results of it to life! This entire concept may have come from a customer I see at work every so often with his kids. They're all so well behaved and adorable, and it seems every time I see him he's got more kids with him. So thank you, random customer. This is also the softest, cutest thing I've ever written. Enjoy!

Word count: 2,044

Warnings: pure unhinged fluff, Wolffe and his adorable kids, mentions the act of creating children, grocery shopping, even more fluff, it's just really cute

•••

Wolffe had never once thought about how he might look to other people, he didn't really care. At least not anymore. They usually smiled at him, some said hello, some still avoided him. He was convinced it was because of the scar and the prosthetic eye, it scared people. Though when they saw his entourage they thought differently. Wolffe may be intimidating, but it was the exact opposite when he was being swarmed with half a dozen children.

It might be a little troublesome wrestling so many children to the store but you weren’t feeling up to it and you needed a break from the kids. So your loving husband had volunteered to get the groceries and take the kids with him.

Wolffe loved every single one of his children. There were eight, four girls and four boys. They were perfect, all exceptionally well behaved, thanks to Wolffe’s military background. He kept them in line and taught them respect and manners. He was firm but kind, a perfect husband and father. You loved watching him with the kids.

Wolffe pushed the cart ahead of him with one hand, his youngest strapped into the seat in the front, his 3 year old balanced on his hip. The twins were sat in the cart itself sharing the iPad as they played a word learning game. Wolffe had sent his oldest two to a different part of the store to get a few other things. The last two, 7 and 9 years old, walked alongside him, getting distracted every few minutes.

"Ooh, daddy look at this!" His 9 year old, Kess, says as she points to a brightly colored box of cereal. "I see it, sweetie. Now c'mon, we need to find food for dinner," he replied.

He turned down an isle trying to find pasta sauce when he heard something being dropped into the cart. He turned to find that his 7 year old had thrown a package of cookies into the cart. "Zeke, we don't need those, bud," he admonished softly. "But I want them," the little boy said stubbornly. "I know, but we don't need them today, so can you please go put them back?" The young boy stomped his foot, "No, I want them so we're getting them." Wolffe kneeled down so he was eye level with his child, "Zeke Jason Koon, go put those back this instant or you're not getting your toys for the rest of the day. You will not talk back to your father and you will not disobey me," he said firmly.

Zeke lowered his head to the ground and took the cookies to put them back on the shelf. “Thank you,” Wolffe finished. He managed to find the right kind of pasta sauce and added it to the cart. His eldest two boys came thundering down the isle carrying things in their hands. “Hey hey, slow down, no running,” Wolffe corrected. “Sorry,” Tam said, “We couldn’t find the milk.”

“That’s alright, we should have enough at home,” Wolffe assured, “Can you two take Briea to pick out candles and decorations for her birthday please.” The two boys nodded and Wolffe set the youngster in his arms down on her feet. “Both of you stay with her and don’t let her out of your sight, ok?” Cardell nodded and took his little sister’s hand, Tam taking her other hand as they went on their way.

Kess helped her father, grabbing the noodles from the bottom shelf. The twins, who had since gotten bored of the iPad, were looking around and smiling at people that looked their way. The more rebellious of the twins, Lieda, decided to stand up in the moving cart and hang onto the edge. “Lieda, sit down!” Her twin brother scolded, pulling her shirt to try and get her to sit back down. “Liore, don’t pull on her shirt, please. Lieda, sit down, hun. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Wolffe said without taking his eyes off the list you had written up for him. Wolffe found three more items on the list when Zeke started pulling gently on his pants leg.

“What do you need, bud?” Zeke reached his arms up to his father, “Please.” Wolffe picked up his little boy with a smile, “You want the high ground?” Zeke nodded and giggled, Wolffe lifted him up higher and placed Zeke on his shoulders, the little boy squealing with laughter. “Hang on tight up there,” Wolffe cautioned with a smile, he felt his son’s hands anchor themselves onto his head and he held onto the boy’s leg with one hand.

Cardell and Tam came back with Briea, Cardell was carrying her while Tam carried multicolored plates, cups, and napkins. Cardell was having trouble keeping Briea from sticking the package of candles in her mouth. “She picked these out, all on her own,” Tam said, dumping the supplies into the cart. “Good job, Brie Brie,” Wolffe smiled, pinching the little girl’s cheek. He handed the list to the twins, “Here, can you guys make sure we have everything on the list?”

Liore took hold of the list and glanced over it, “Dada these words are too big,” he announced. “You can do it, sound out the letters, remember. Like how mommy showed you,” he encouraged. Tam ran further down the aisle to help Kess reach something on the shelf. Ariah, who had been content to sit strapped into the cart sucking on her pacifier, rocked back and forth and opened her mouth to gurgle, consequently letting her pacifier fall out of her mouth and onto the dirty floor. The now distraught tiny one year old scrunched up her face and began crying, Wolffe unbuckled her from the seat and held her against his chest. He gently rubbed her back and rocked her, “shhh, it’s ok, dada’s here,” he whispered.

Cardell picked the pacifier off the ground, “Want me to go wash it off?” Wolffe smiled gratefully at his son, “Please. Thank you, Cardell.” Lieda stood up in the cart again, “I wanna come too!” Cardell set Briea down in the cart and plucked his other sister out, taking her hand and wandering off to find a sink. Tam noticed his father had his hands full and offered to push the cart. “I wanna push too,” Kess added. “Ok, you push that side I’ll push this side,” Tam compromised. Kess was barely able to reach the handle but put her heart into the task nonetheless, Liore was still trying to pronounce the words on the list while Briea had gotten her hands on the iPad and was sucking on the corner.

Wolffe followed his children around as they pushed the cart and gathered the last few items on the list. He had gotten Ariah to stop crying after only a few minutes and she was now sleeping soundly in his arms, Zeke still perched high and mighty on Wolffe’s shoulders. They got to the front of the store and were rejoined by Lieda and Cardell, who gave Ariah her clean pacifier back. The twins started loading the items onto the conveyor belt, Tam watching to make sure they didn’t throw or drop the eggs or glass bottles. The cashier greeted them with a friendly hello which Wolffe returned.

“Alright Zeke, you’re gonna have to get down bud, dada needs to pay for our groceries,” Wolffe said, he crouched down and allowed Cardell to whisk his little brother off their dad’s shoulders. Kess and Tam took the full bags off the rotating holder and gave them to the twins to organize in the cart. Cardell put Zeke down and let him help put bags into the cart while he picked Briea out and held her to make more room.

“Are these all your kids?” The cashier, a middle aged woman, asked. Wolffe raised an eyebrow at her rudeness, “Yes, they’re all mine.” The woman seemed shocked. “They’re so well behaved,” a kind looking older woman said. She was behind them in the line, watching the children with awe. “Thank you, my wife and I are trying our best,” Wolffe smiled. “Well, you’re doing a great job,” she added, “You don’t see young people with well behaved children nowadays. These all the kiddos you have?” Wolffe smiled wider, there was nothing he loved more than talking (bragging) about his family. “Yep,” he chirped, “All eight. My wife and I are very lucky.” The old woman smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm, “You have a lovely family. God bless you, son.” Wolffe thanked her again and paid for his items.

~~~~

Wolffe knocked on the door, only having to wait a few seconds before you opened it. You gave him a weary smile, “My hero,” you said opening the door wider. Wolffe walked inside, setting one bag on the counter, followed by the rest of the kids carrying in the other bags. He still carried Ariah against his chest, the tiny girl still sound asleep. Wolffe told the kids what to leave out and what to put away before setting the sleeping child down on her blanket laid out on the living room floor. Finally being able to greet you again, he pecked you on the lips and pulled you into a hug.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked. You sighed, “I was able to sleep for a little bit but now by back is killing me.” Wolffe smiled sympathetically, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You want me to give you a massage later?” You rested your head on your husband’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Don’t be sorry, I’ve done this before. It’s all part of the experience,” you chuckled, looking up at your husband. Wolffe kissed your forehead and brought his hands around to your front. “You’d think it would get easier the ninth time,” he mused, running his palms over your enlarged stomach. You chuckled again, “It has a little bit. C’mon let's make dinner. And yes, I'll take that massage.”

~~~~

Wolffe whisked off his shirt and set the alarm on his phone before setting it on his nightstand. He thought for a moment before deciding he would sleep in just his boxer shorts tonight, he let the sweatpants he had been wearing fall to the floor and he slid underneath the covers of your shared bed. He rolled onto his side and perched himself up on one elbow, gazing across the room at you. You were sat at your vanity in only your panties and one of his t-shirts which was much too large on you. You loved wearing his t-shirts, especially when you were pregnant, they were so big and comfy.

This was his favorite part of the day, staring at you as you applied various creams and oils to your skin, the lights bordering the mirror made you glow even more. He was entranced by you, his own angel, someone who wanted a big family just like him. You finished your nightly routine and turned around to see him staring at you. “What?” You asked with a smile. He shook his head, “nothing” he mumbled. You turned off the vanity light and climbed in bed, laying down facing Wolffe.

“I swear you get more beautiful every time I knock you up,” he mused. You playfully swatted his arm, “oh yes because the weight gain, mood swings, and morning sickness are drop dead gorgeous,” you said sarcastically. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. “It is, I think it’s sexy,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I love how you get so big from carrying my baby and how sassy you get sometimes, you know it turns me on." You tried to hide the blush on your cheeks as you smiled, but Wolffe moved your hands away. "And when you get sick that means I can dote on you even more,” Wolffe continued, sealing every reason with a kiss somewhere on your face. You sighed happily and brought a hand to his cheek.

“I love you, Wolffe, and every baby you’ve given me. I love everything we have. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Neither would I, my love. I am living out my dreams.”

#star wars the clone wars #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #star wars fanfiction #Wolffe and his kids are adorable

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mrsseverussnape · 4 years ago

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Love Is You - chapter 6

a/n: Are you seeing these posts? If not i don’t wanna spend my time editing the fanfiction for nothing…

The familiar knock on the door woke Scarlett up in the morning. It was none other than Severus Snape. He was standing there with their breakfast.

"Did i wake you up...?"

"Yeah..." Scarlett murmured sleepily. "Whatever come in."

"Sorry, i thought you'd be awake..." he put the plates on the table.

"The pills make me sleepy all the time... You help yourself, i will be back." She headed to the bathroom.

While he was pouring tea into the cups, she came back and sat down the chair.

"I went to the owlery earlier and there were couple of letters for you so i took them, here."

"Oh thanks."

She looked through them; Leo, Carina, dad... and there was a package. She wondered who sent it so ripped it open since there was no name tag on it. There was a grey cardigan and a note inside of the package, she immediately recognized the cardigan because it was hers. She was very confused, so she picked up the note and read it.

I didn't have any thick clothes with me that night and after Sirius and his warmness left me all alone in the cold bed, i had to borrow that from your wardrobe. You lost your husband but you can have your cardigan back.

Love, Arabelle

Scarlett took the cardigan and the note and threw them into the fireplace while tears running down on her cheeks.

"How dare she!?" She punched the wall next to the fireplace and fell down the floor crying hysterically. Severus run up to her immediately; he was shocked at her reaction, that was so out of character.

"Scarlett, Scar calm down. What's wrong?"

"I want to kill her!" She was screaming and crying with anger. "I hate her! She ruined everything!" She was digging her long nails into her palms as she clenched her fists.

Severus was so confused and worried at the same time. He hasn’t seen her like this before and he wasn't sure what to do because clearly talking wouldn't work at that moment so he just held her close to calm her down. Scarlett was resistant at first but after a while she leant into him and just cried her eyes out until there was no tear to shed. Sometime have passed like that and finally she was no longer crying and moved away from his embrace slowly.

"I am sorry, that was so pathetic of me..." She whispered while looking away from him.

"There is no need to apologize Scarlett." He stood up and gave her a hand then he led her to the table.

"I feel so ashamed... I can't control myself at all..."

He poured some fresh tea for her and sat back down.

"Why do you feel ashamed? You just express your emotions that way and if it relaxes you, do it."

"I have bad thoughts all over my mind Severus... i don't even know what am i gonna do next. I am scared of myself..."

"Talk through them with me."

She took a sip from her tea and thought for a while. "Did Carina tell you anything? Be honest with me."

"No, not at all. She just said family issues and i didn't question it any further."

"I don't know where to start, so many things happened lately... like i can't perceive them at all." sighed deeply, Scarlett was feeling so distressed she was still shaking from the crying.

"Start with the easiest one for you."

"I am no longer the deputy minister, i quit."

"I read that in newspaper and i was surprised actually."

"It wasn't an easy decision. I love... loved my job and it was a good way to show my abilities but... i had to quit."

"Did you get a better offer from somewhere else?"

"Oh, i wish..." she smiled sadly "I am unemployed right now." She saw the confused look on his face. "And here is the shitty part..." she finished off her tea, hoping it would ease her a bit. But unfortunately, it didn't. She was scratching her hands unwittingly. Severus knew something bad was coming, this was never a good sign.

"He, Sirius, umm... cheated on me..." she bit her lip to stop herself from crying once again but the tears didn't want to stay in their places but run down on her cheeks. "With his co-worker... i caught them in our bed..."

Severus couldn't believe the things he just heard. Sirius literally would kill himself to be with Scarlett when he was young and when he finally had her, he cheated. Severus regretted his decision that he made 30 years ago, he shouldn't have believed Sirius. While he was busy with his thoughts, Scarlett continued.

"We divorced 10 days ago. 26 years of marriage ended in half an hour... and like this wasn't bad enough, after the court i came across with "the girl" and she humiliated me in front of many people. And the package was from her. She has borrowed my cardigan that night because after i interrupted their hot action, she was cold." Her anger was rising, and her face was turning red at the same time. "She wrote me that i lost my husband but i can take my cardigan back." She laughed angrily and then started to cry helplessly once again.

Severus was so angry and just wanted to find Sirius and put him in his place. Seeing Scarlett like this broke his heart into pieces but he didn't know what to do to make her feel any better. He could see her pain through her beautiful eyes. He would give anything to see them shine with happiness again.

"I am standing on a very thin line, if i let myself fall which i am close to... i won't be able to recover from this at all or it will be so hard... I don't want it Severus..." her voice had such a pleading tone and she was literally screaming for help.

"I am here for you Scarlett, whatever you want or need i will always be there to help you."

He was dying to hug her tightly and kiss her pain away. She was the only one he ever loved and his love for her never changed over years.

"Thank you, Severus." She smiled faintly.

He watched her while she was taking her pills with shaky hands.

"Would you like to do something today?" He felt like he needs to take her out of this room, she was stuck between the walls for days and it wasn’t helping her a bit.

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, we can go for a walk to Hogsmade?"

She thought about it for couple of minutes.

"We can do that, maybe being outside will be good for me."

"Good then. I will be in my room, when you are ready just knock on my door." He picked up the breakfast dishes and left.

Scarlett sat on the chair for a while before starting to get ready. She thought about Severus, when he was here with her she felt so comfortable even speaking about such hard topics for her. He always made her feel so calm and peaceful. But another side of her was still hurt by him. She decided not to think about that now, there were already man problems in her life.

Some time has passed, and she was knocking on his door. He opened it with a tiny smile on his lips.

"Sorry it took a little longer, apparently i forgot how to dress up since the only thing i wear was sleeping gowns for weeks..."

"It's okay and you look beautiful whatever you wear." The sentence did slip from his mouth before he thought, he blushed a little after he noticed what he just said.

"Thank you, Severus."

She smiled lightly and the two walked out from the castle to Hogsmade. It was a chill November day, just like Scarlett likes it. She was a total winter person and the cold weather always made her feel better and alive. A tiny smile appeared on her lips.

"I was thinking the old days, i have never imagined that we would be on our way to Hogsmade in our 50s."

He chuckled softly. "But here we are. Just like we used to do while we were at Hogwarts."

"I would like to live a day from those good old times."

"We can live like one. First we go to Honeydukes and get your chocolates then we have our hot chocolates at Three Broomsticks and talk."

"Sounds good to me!"

He was happy to see her all excited about such a simple day. They walked the roads they knew so well, got her favourite chocolates and now they were enjoying their drinks.

"You never talked about your life, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing much. Just working and dealing with dunderheads..."

"I hope you are not calling my daughter a dunderhead." She joked.

"I wouldn't hire her as my assistant if I thought so."

"Ah good to hear that because she really likes you, you were always her favourite professor. She would be sad if you called her a dunderhead."

"Carina was my favourite student to be honest. She was such a good student."

"Like mother like daughter." She grinned proudly and flipped her hair.

"I see you very humble."

She chuckled softly while slapping his arm jokingly. Severus grinned at her, that was his Scarlett and he was glad to see her happy. They kept talking about random stuff and spent some more time at Hogsmade. They were back at Hogwarts before it got dark.

"Thank you so much for today Severus, i feel so much better." She smiled at him before she entered her room.

"It's my pleasure, i am here if you need anything."

"Thank you again, see you tomorrow."

"See you."

He walked into his room as well and laid down on his bed thinking about her. His heart was beating like a teenage boy who was back from his first date. She was right here, so close but yet again he couldn't hold her, couldn't inhale her sweet rose scent, couldn't kiss her delicate lips...

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13 @mrssnivellussnape

If you wanna be on my taglist, let me know!

#severus snape #harry potter #pro snape #snape #sirius black #fanfiction #fanfic #severus snape x oc #sirius black x oc #oc fanfiction #original character #severus snape angst #sirius black angst #angst #mrsseverussnapefanfic #mrs.severussnape #love is you

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