#why are you keep involved yourself into situations that will get you have a gun to your head you like that or what

[loudkidsoulfreak]

freak

[dollfacefantasy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

part 2

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay.  Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched.  He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in. 

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking. 

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded. 

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker. 

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest). 

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog. 

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment. 

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too. 

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie. 

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered. 

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips. 

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you. 

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward. 

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though. 

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself. 

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

[losers-clvb]

"why aren't you here in my bedroom?" sam winchester x party girl!reader

content: canon typical violence, age gap, smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise, fluff, internal angst on sam's end

word count: 3.6k

song: risk by gracie abrams

note: please ignore my shitty attempts at texts, i do not text (much) irl. this "series" isn't going to be like a book -- the parts are going to be weeks or months apart, just to let everyone know.

m.list meet party girl!

The first interaction you had with Sam Winchester involved werewolves and vampires. Despite the absolute insanity spouting from his mouth, you trusted him, especially with his arm still wrapped around you after pulling you out of harm’s way.

“So that was a werewolf? Like Teen Wolf?” You pointed in the direction the other man had gone in, a gun cradled in his hands. Sam narrowed his eyes at you in confusion.

“Wha-,” then he thought about it. “Yeah, a bit like Teen Wolf, I guess.”

“And it was with a vampire?” You were trying to get a grasp on the situation. It wasn’t every day your favorite genre came to life.

“Yes.”

“Like Twilight?”

“No.” Sam laughed out at the image. “Nothing like Twilight, actually.”

He watched a small pout come to your face.

“They don’t sparkle?”

“No, I’m sorry.” He was stuck on staring at your expressions. You were beautiful, he noticed. All of your features suited you well. He was tempted to sweep a strand of hair out of your face before you gasped in horror.

“Behind you!”

Sam tightened his grip around you and spun, letting you nuzzle into his chest. You breathed in his scent, eucalyptus and mint flooding your system. There was a hint of something smoky that you assumed to be gunpowder, though you couldn’t be sure. Before today, you had never even seen a gun.

You felt him lift his arm -- the one not holding onto you like a child with a helium-filled balloon -- and two gunshots rang out. You flinched with both, fingers digging into his flannel. You heard something -- a body, you realized a second later -- hit the grassy ground.

Even in your alcohol-altered state you knew it was a bad idea to look behind you. That didn’t stop the curiosity from creeping in, pulling your head in the direction of your previous attacker.

There it was: the body of a guy not much older than you, laid out in the grass with a gunshot wound to the chest. A small cry left your throat before you could stop it. You’d never seen a dead body before.

Sam’s reaction was immediate, a hand over your eyes guiding your head back into him. He wanted to protect you from this, from his world.

“Shh,” he mumbled soothingly, brushing his fingers into your hair. You relaxed into him, focusing on the worn fabric pressing into your cheeks. You heard footsteps behind you, but from Sam's lack of worry, you assumed it to be friend instead of foe.

“Sammy,” a gruff voice called,

Sammy

That must be his name, you thought. You filed that away into your brain for later.

The other man must have gestured out a question, because a second later, you felt the rumble of his chest when he mumbled a yeah, yeah.

The casual way he was holding you paired with the calming scent of him made you tilt your face up, resting your chin on his chest. The alarm you had felt just moments ago fizzled into something else, something more like yourself. Your eyes twinkled up at him.

“Thank you for saving me.” You drawled, sliding a hand up to rest on his shoulder. The old band t-shirt you had borrowed from a friend rode up slightly, exposing more of your tiny skirt. You felt the other man’s eyes drift to your thighs, but your attention was locked on Sam. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“More like flannel.” He joked. His eyes drifted over your lips for a split second before coming back to your eyes. “And it’s kind of my job.” He chuckled.

“Still,” you shifted yourself onto your toes, “I wanna repay you.” His hands, which had been slowly traveling to your hips, gripped onto the fabric just over your waist. It was to keep you steady on your toes, at least, that’s what Sam told himself. You bit your lip to add to the meaning behind your words.

“Is that right?” Sam hummed out, raising his eyebrows. It wasn’t everyday that a pretty girl flirted with him this heavily -- in reality, it was pretty much everyday a pretty girl flirted with him, but usually his head was too far into the case to notice.

“I’m goin’ back to the room, Sammy.” The other man jingled the keys in his hand, giving you one last look over before turning around. “And, uh,” he threw a look over his shoulder at Sam, “have fun.” He winked with his suggestive words.

Sam tried swallowed down his embarrassment, but you still saw a pink flush on his cheeks. You shifted on your feet, hoping to get his attention back on you. Of course, it worked.

“You wanna have fun with me?” You purred out. You felt his fingers dig into your hips. A flash of hesitance shone through his eyes.

“How old are you?” He could tell you were young, like, really young. You hadn’t seen the world yet, hadn’t experienced as much as he had. Though, not many people had experienced what Sam had. He felt you push up against him a little more.

“Old enough.” You responded, making him narrow his eyes.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Twenty-one.”

You watched a grimace cross his face.

Fuck, you were young. Barely legal to drink. You had obviously taken advantage of the fact that you could drink, if the slight sway in your stature and the dilation of your pupils told him anything.

“C’mon, honey,” you urged, the pet name coating him in a fuzzy feeling, “I want you, you want me-,”

“How do you know I want you?” He cut you off. You tilted your head slightly, the glitter on your cheeks sparkling at him.

“I know when a man wants me.” You answered. You moved your eyes from his, drifting over his face to the steady rise of his chest. You wanted to reach out to unbutton his flannel, wanted to see the muscles you knew it hid.

Suddenly, everything was funny. The weed gummy you popped before leaving the party was kicking in.

You giggled out, the force of your laughter knocking you over. You fell into Sam’s chest and his hold on you tightened.

“Are you high?” He thought back to the one time he’d smoked, back to his college buddies elation at every little thing. You hiccuped into him and turned to look at him, the side of your head now resting on his chest.

“A little, teeny, tiny, itty bit.” You replied, using your fingers to show just how little, teeny, tiny, itty bit it really was. Sam couldn’t help but smile at that. You were so fucking adorable.

“Let’s get you home.” He offered, trying to hoist you up to completely standing. You gasped and clung to him further.

“No!” You practically shouted out, a moment of sober washing over you. “The dorms have a curfew.”

Dorms. Curfew. Every word reminded him of your age, of why he couldn’t just kiss you right there and then.

“And when is that, honey?” He asked, trying out the pet name on you. It instantly lightened your panic, making you giggle again. You buried your face into him.

He nudged at you, a reminder that you still needed to answer the question. You resurfaced from the Sea of Sammy, as you had mentally dubbed it.

“What time is it now?” You slurred out. Sam checked his watch.

“3:00 AM.”

“Oh, curfew was…,” you did the math in your head, but the numbers got fuzzy, “two hours ago.”

“One?” That didn’t seem right. Most colleges, especially on the weekdays, cut the students off at eleven, midnight at the very latest.

You scrunched your nose.

“Eleven.” You corrected. Apparently math wasn’t your strong suit when intoxicated.

“Where were you going?”

You had been walking along the sidewalk when the boys had passed you initially. They figured you were fine, or, at the very least, could wait until they were done with their hunt before they offered their help. It wasn’t until you had been chased into a clearing in the woods that they, or rather Sam, had actually met you.

“Mmm, I dunno.” You giggled again, shrugging. “Diner?”

“Right…” Sam nodded. Had the college kids really gotten this unsafe with their lives, or had he just forgotten it all?

“Don’t judge me.” You cupped your hands around his face, pushing his cheeks together. “I love pancakes.”

“No, no, I believe you.” Sam managed to get out through his squished cheeks. You pulled him down closer to you, nearly eye-level with the giant now.

“No, Sammy, you don’t get it.” You dramatized every word. He almost corrected you -- it was Sam not Sammy --, but your eyes widened. “I could fuck up some pancakes right now.”

A smile twitched over him again. His hand found the small of your back, resting just above your butt.

“Wanna go get some?” He asked when you finally dropped your hands from his face. Your eyes lit up.

“Really?” You were practically vibrating with excitement.

“Who am I to keep you from your pancakes?”

He kept himself calm when you squealed with excitement, spooking a few birds that had settled into the trees near you. You had forgotten all about the night’s prior events and, luckily, Dean had found time to take care of the bodies, so no reminders would occur.

Sam wasn’t ready to let you go. No, not yet. He just wanted to be in your presence a moment longer. He could learn to ignore the pull to you later.

----

Turns out he couldn’t learn to ignore the pull.

Not when you had so kindly fed him bites of pancake while talking about your life.

Or when you had woken him up with a kiss on the nose after he let you crash in his and Dean’s motel room for the night.

You were making it especially hard to ignore it all when you sent him those sweet texts everyday.

honey, i found another sammy

don’t worry, she’s not as cute

honey, we talked about mythology today and i thought of you

honey, i’m a litgle drink right niw, but i stil miss you

Sam smiled at every single one, especially when they got flirtier after you two made it official. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that you were his.

He made it a point to visit at least twice a month. He couldn’t stay for long each time, but it was enough time for you to cling to him like a koala on a tree, and to do… other things.

You weren’t a virgin in any way, something you found yourself repeating over and over, but Sam wanted to take it slow with you. He wanted to prove to you -- and himself, (and the whole world) -- that he didn’t want you just for your body.

You both settled for those heated makeouts, his hands gripping onto your ass. There had been a few times you’d gotten off on his thigh, soaking his pants through your lacy panties. Your little sighs and whimpers got him rock hard, but every time you tried to help him out, he would rush off to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

Tonight, you were ready to take things up a notch. You had made sure your dorm mate would be out for the night, pushing her in the direction of the party you were missing.

It started out innocent enough.

Sam was halfway across the country in some dive bar, texting away with you while Dean hustled pool.

you: i miss you, honey.

sam: I know, baby. Next week?

Fuck it, you thought before snapping a picture of yourself.

you: i’m thinking about you right now, though.

you: [picture]

Sam nearly choked on his beer when he saw it. You, spread out on your dorm bed in nothing but lingerie. Lace -- in his favorite color, he noticed -- barely covered your breasts but pushed them up in just the right way. He couldn’t see what you possessed between your legs because your hand was stuffed into your panties. He imagined those whines he loved so much falling from your lips while you touched yourself.

While you touched yourself to him.

He booked it for the bathroom, a small room with only a toilet, sink, and trash can to judge him.

“Hey, honey.” You breathed out when you finally answered the phone. Sam swallowed.

“Baby,” he sighed, trying not to touch himself, “I wasn’t alone.”

“Did you like my picture?” You giggled out. You had stopped touching yourself -- it was really only for the photo, but hopefully you would get back to it soon.

“Are you really thinking about me?” Sam asked, leaning his arm up against the wall.

“Mmm,” you hummed suggestively, “always.”

He swore at your voice. So fucking sweet, like it was meant just for him.

“Can you talk me through it?” You wanted him to, God, you were practically foaming at the mouth for it. You listened for half a beat, waiting for his answer.

“Touch yourself for me.” He mumbled into the phone. You bit your lip and grazed your hand down your body. Shifting its way into your panties again, you whimpered at the brush of your knuckle against your clit.

Sam palmed himself through his jeans, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Are you wet?” He asked, then decided to add on to the question. “For me?”

You sucked in a sharp breath and swiped a finger through your folds.

“Yes, honey, so wet. All for you.” You all but moaned out. Sam slowly unzipped his jeans, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. This made him feel like a creep, like some guy that got off from a simple moan from a girl.

It didn’t work. You heard the zip sound into the phone, making you smirk.

“You wanna touch yourself with me, honey?”

Sam froze, his heart beating out of his chest.

“I, um,” he stuttered out. He didn’t think he would be caught. It threw him off of his game, making that confidence he felt before start to drift away. You sensed this and echoed his words back to him, shifting them just enough to make them your own.

“Are you hard? For me?”

Sam melted back into the moment. He wrapped a hand around himself, pumping slowly.

“Always.”

You whimpered at his own echo, imagining it all in your head. You hadn’t seen his cock, but you had felt it against your leg, against your back.

“You want my hand wrapped around that cock? Hmm? Stroking you nice and slow?”

Sam bit back a moan, but moved his hand just how you were describing.

“Maybe in my mouth? Taste you on my tongue?”

“I thought I was the one talking.” Sam interrupted your filthy teasing, but imagined the scene anyway. You, on your knees, taking him into your mouth with your eyes locked on his.

“Tell me then, honey. What should I do?”

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Nice and slow.” He repeated your words, making a giggle break through your moan.

“Picture my hand on that pretty pussy.” He smiled at the whine that escaped you.

“You’d make me feel so good, honey.”

“Yeah, baby, I would.” He watched his hand move on himself, trying to distort his vision to see yours instead.

“Slip a finger in, just one.” He could pinpoint the moment you did it, your breathing picking up.

“Just one?” You whined. He could see that pout on your face, the same one you always threw on because you knew it would make him give in to you.

“Just one.”

You huffed out a fine, making Sam fill with joy that you were still mouthy when horny.

“Good girl.” He mumbled.

“Honey,” you moaned, rubbing your thumb on your clit while you moved your finger in you. “I want you here. I want you touching me. I want your cock.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam tutted at your dirty words, “careful with that mouth. Don’t want people thinking my girl is cockhungry.”

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut.

“But I am cockhungry. You’ve been neglecting my needs. Please, honey, please.”

Sam squeezed gently, pulling a groan out of himself. He listened to your breathy whines for just a moment before answering.

“Next week.” He quickened his movements just a tick.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm,” you sucked in a breath when you curled your finger up a bit, “gonna ride you. Let you fuck up into me until I only know your name.”

“Fuck,” Sam swore. You bouncing on him while he gripped onto that sweet ass.

“Will you make me feel good, honey? Please?”

“Anything for my girl,” he panted out. He could feel his balls tighten up.

“Add another finger, baby, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, honey.”

He heard you hiss in pleasure, which, in turn, made him grunt at the image in his head.

“Feels so good, honey, but I wish it were your fingers in me.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he bit his lip to quiet his moan. “I want you here touching my cock, but we can’t always get what we want.”

“I’m gonna come, honey. Can you come with me?”

“I’m waiting for you, baby. Wish I could taste you, wrap my lips around those fingers and lick them clean.” He pumped himself faster, bringing himself to the edge.

“I’ll clean ‘em for you, honey.” You promised, moaning when you heard him groan.

“Say my name when you come.”

“Sammy.” You whimpered. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…”

Sam came into his hand with a groan, his eyes screwed shut when his name fell off your tongue. He heard you shuffle over the phone, then a notification dinged.

“Look at how good I am for you, honey.”

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, tapping into your message thread. There, displayed out for his eyes only, was a picture of you with your fingers shoved into your mouth, eyes rolled back. He could see the shine just below your lips, your release coating your digits just for him.

“Such a good girl.” He said into the phone, pulling his jeans back up. Fabric rubbing together -- your comforter, he realized -- sounded through the phone. He could see you in his mind, pulling on that silky robe you would make him get for you after showers.

You settled back into bed, letting your pile of blankets envelop you.

“I miss you.”

Your words made his heart clench. He wished he could be there, holding you, rubbing on your skin soothingly until you went to sleep. Of course, he would never be there, in your dorm room. There had been one time, only once, that he had dared to follow you in. He felt out of place in the crowd of twenty-somethings, nevermind the fact that he was technically a twenty-something, just on the wrong side of the spectrum.

It had taken one mutter of “sugar daddy” to get him to all but sprint back to his car, but not before he got a glimpse of your room. It was girly and sweet with just the right amount of mess that he would expect from a young girl.

Young being the key word. You were young, he knew that, you knew that, every damn person you came into contact with knew that.

It wasn’t until you sauntered from the dorm building with an excited smile on your face that he had pulled himself from the self-loathing. How could he regret this when he had your pretty face to look at?

“I miss you more.” He sighed out now, holding the phone against his ear with his shoulder while he washed his hands. He heard your lazy giggle.

“Not possible.” You slurred out the last part of your words and that’s when your muffled yawn crackled through the phone.

“Are you tired?” He asked, but he already knew the answer.

“A little, but I want to talk to you.”

“You need sleep, baby.”

“Okay, dad.” You rolled your eyes with the words.

Sam stilled. Dad. He knew you would have said it regardless of his age, and he wasn’t old enough to be your father, but it still stung. It brought back the reminder that this was probably wrong and he was a creep.

You furrowed your brows at the silence, completely oblivious to his internal battles. You saw no issues with your relationship. Sure, there were people who stared, and maybe a waitress or two that were Sam’s age would make you feel like a little girl, but it was all worth it to get to love him.

“Honey?” You whispered into the phone. Sam swallowed and glared at himself in the mirror. “Sammy? Did you fall asleep?”

“No, I’m here.” Sam snapped out of it, his eyes dragging to the floor. You smiled to yourself.

“Can you tell me about your day? Just until I fall asleep.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, blinking at the floor before reentering the organized clatter of the bar. He saw Dean talking up the bartender on his way to his previous seat in the corner.

Sam muttered on about his day, your small hums warming him. He had started to go into detail about the insanity of the town’s sheriff when he heard it: your soft snoring.

He closed his eyes and listened. For only a moment, he was next to you, arm wrapped around your shoulders with you cuddled into his chest.

“Goodnight, baby.” He whispered into the phone before ending the call, an empty, sinking feeling in his chest.

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids

[daycourtofficial]

A Bite Sized Romance

Summary: you offer to make dinner for Azriel, but he gives you half-assed reasons as to why he can’t make it.

Author’s note: I love love love this idea it’s been floating around my head for a LONG time 💕

“Have you ever had ratatouille?” You ask Azriel, taking a bite of the dish in front of you.

Every Thursday, you and the shadowsinger go out to a different restaurant, usually in Velaris, occasionally in other courts. Seeing the shadowsinger could be difficult during the week, especially with your busy schedule, so you two set aside Thursday nights to eating dinner together.

Your brain had a hard time understanding that these were not necessarily dates, even though that is exactly what Cassian, Mor, the whole IC, and even Azriel and yourself call them.

“No, what’s rat patootie?” He says, taking a bite of his pasta.

“Ratatouille,” you correct, sighing wistfully, “it’s a traditional dish my mom used to make when I was a kid. I don’t think annyone in Velaris makes it. This dish kind of reminds me of it, but it’s not the same.”

You sit up, a smile stretching across your face. “Maybe next Thursday I’ll cook it for us. It’s so much better homemade - what do you say?”

He stills at your words, almost choking on his food. Through coughs he tells you, “surely there’s somewhere we can go for it, I wouldn’t want to trouble you with cooking.”

“But I like cooking,” you object. “And despite the copious amounts of meals we’ve shared together, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for you.”

He doesn’t want to budge, so you pull out the big guns.

You pout your lip, making your eyes look as sad and endearing as possible, “please, Az? It reminds me of being a kid again. And I’d love to share that with you.”

Mother forsake him, he couldn’t say no to your sad, puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbles, sure he’ll figure a way out of it before Thursday comes. Perhaps he could find a way to get impaled.

You squeal, “oooh you’re going to love it!”

-

Thursday was fast approaching, and Azriel was trying to use every excuse in the book to keep this dinner from happening. He told you Rhys had to send him on a mission that night, which you immediately turned around and went to Rhys’s office and asked him to send someone else.

Rhys, having no idea what you were talking about, sees Azriel in the doorway who tells him mind to mind, “come on, say you have to send me.”

Rhys sends the equivalent of a smirk to Azriel mentally and tells you, “my mistake, I didn’t realize what day I was telling him to leave.”

Azriel stood in the doorway and gave his brother the finger from behind you.

Azriel made excuses, all ranging from Cassian needing help with training, Feyre needing an escort to the Hewn City, even to Mor needing help with the upkeep of the horses in the guard. Every excuse was denied by his so-called family, not allowing him to use them as scapegoats. It was starting to make you suspicious.

Thursday morning after Azriel’s last ditch attempt to get out of the dinner, involving some excuse about Eris needing rescuing, you sigh, exasperated.

“Okay Az, it was just an idea. Clearly you don’t want to do it, so just.. don’t bother, okay? Go save Eris from whatever it is that’s attacking him.”

You turn, wanting to leave the kitchen before Azriel sees how much this actually upsets you. “That’s not-“ he starts, trying to grab you as you pass him, but you wriggle from his grasp, disappearing into the hallway up to your bedroom.

Az was sitting on the kitchen counter, wallowing in self-pity over how poorly he handled that situation, when Cassian walked in.

“And what do you have to be so upset about, pretty boy?”

Azriel lifts his head, looking at Cassian eating a stupid banana. Gods, he wanted to throttle him. “Oh no, I’m Azriel and a beautiful woman wants to cook me dinner, even though I eat dinner with her most nights and have weekly dates with her even though I deny anyth-“

Cassian stops, taking a bite of his banana. He looks up, and realization dawns on him.

“Oh my gods,” he says, his mouth full of banana. Azriel decides to play the denial game, because surely Cassian did not figure out the secret he’s kept guarded for several months while eating a fucking banana.

Cassian looked at him, turning to look up the stairs where you had left just a few moments ago, “you two?”

Azriel rolls his eyes, “we’re friends, yes.”

Cassian rolls his eyes even harder. “I’m not an idiot. You follow her around like a pitiful puppy,” he says, coming closer to his brother, “you two eat just about every meal together, but the one day she offers to cook for you suddenly you can’t find time for her?”

Cassian narrows his eyes at Azriel, “you ashamed of her or something?”

Azriel’s eyes widen, not only at Cassian’s question that he could ever be ashamed of you, but also at Cassian’s change in demeanor.

Cassian slips into the protective big brother role when it comes to you quite easily, Azriel thinks as Cassian puffs out his chest while he strides over to stand next to Azriel.

“Now why on earth would I be ashamed of her?”

Cassian inspects Azriel for a second before asking, “then why haven’t you told her?”

He pauses, then asks, “how long have you known?”

Azriel huffs, “known what?”

“That she’s your mate.”

Azriel stills at Cassian’s words. They liked to poke fun of Cass, calling him a dumb brute, but Cassian was no fool. If any member of his family were to discover his secret, it would be Cassian.

Azriel looks at him, “a few months. I’ve been… waiting.” He sighs, “I keep wanting to tell her and then I psyche myself out. Once I tell her, things will be… different.”

Azriel hates how quiet his voice becomes as he says, “what if she is ashamed of who the mother picked for her?”

Cassian’s chest deflates, all sense of protectiveness over you gone and replaced with protectiveness over his brother.

“Then she’d be a fool.”

Looking down, Azriel watches as Cassian’s foot gently nudges his own, a silent request from Cassian for him to look up.

“There is no way she would ever be ashamed of you or be upset that you’re her mate.”

The way Cassian is looking at Azriel makes him want to shy away, but Cassian keeps his gaze steady, almost locking Azriel’s eyes into place.

“I’d be willing to bet she has journals full of doodles where she draws little hearts with your names in it, and she also writes “Mrs. Shadowsinger”

The rise in octave in his brother’s voice causes a laugh to burst out of him, but Cassian continues.

“I once tried to sit next to you for a meal and I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as she did to claim her seat. Honestly, this will come as a shock to no one.”

Azriel looked back up at his brother to find him already looking at him, a soft gaze grazing his face.

“We’re happy for you two.”

Azriel scoffs, “I take that to mean you’ve already told Rhysand?”

Cassian starts walking away, going to pick up the remainder of his banana. “Oh yeah, we’ve had a bet for about a year now. Rhys thought the bond had snapped for her, but I knew it would be you. You’ve made me a much richer man, Az.”

Cassian bows in thanks, ducking out the door as Azriel throws a different banana towards the space he was occupying.

-

You had been sulking in your room for what felt like hours after Azriel’s latest rejection. You spent the whole time flipping between thinking about all the little moments that had you swearing there was something happening between you two, and each and every excuse he had made to get out of this dinner.

Was your cooking that bad? Was he tired of you taking up every one of his Thursday nights?

The two of you spent an absurd amount of time together - you ate most meals together at the house, you saw each other multiple times every day. Were you wrong?

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, but before you can respond, the door is opening and Cassian pokes his head in. He has a hand covering his eyes, but he’s made a slit between his middle and ring fingers, allowing him to still see.

“Are you decent?” He asks, looking around the room.

He sighs at seeing you dressed on your bed, pulling his hand away from his face as he walks in, closing the door behind him.

You giggled, “Cass the whole point is to not see someone naked.”

He rolled his eyes as he plopped down next to you on your bed, “you don’t even want to give me a peak? I’ve had such a hard day, a little skin would make me feel better.”

You laugh, picking up a pillow and hitting him with it. He lets you hit him, pretending to fall dramatically onto his back.

“Tell Rhys I loved him,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to die.

You laugh at his foolish antics, but Cassian continues to pretend he’s dead. You lean into him, about to poke his face, when he grabs your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Now come on, I’ve got shopping to do and I need your help.”

-

After Cassian had left, Azriel spent some time trying to decide how he could make this up to you. He didn’t want to force you into accepting a bond that you didn’t know about by presenting him with food.

He paced his room, his long legs gliding across the wooden floors making no noise. His shadows were combing through the house, trying to find out where you had gone after your earlier spat.

Azriel replaced with pacing with purposeful steps as he headed towards his bedroom door, the perfect solution coming to him.

-

“Thank you Cassian,” you say, squeezing his arm your hand was tucked into.

“For what? My incredibly charming presence?” He smirks down at you.

You scoff, “I felt awful earlier but you pulled me out of my spiraling, thanks.” You say, nudging him a bit.

Cassian had gotten you out of your room and the two of you walked around Velaris, mostly people watching and talking.

He hums, “well, both of my brothers are idiots,” he says, getting a laugh out of you. “They take turns on who holds the idiot stick. Today it’s Azriel.”

“Do you ever hold the idiot stick?”

“Occasionally, very rarely, I will pass it between the two of them, so I only have it for a moment or two.”

You snort, looking down at your feet. If Cassian thought Azriel was being stupid, does he see what you see?

You start to ask him, to prod him for more answers about Azriel, when he pats your hand, turning your attention to where the two of you had ended up on this walk.

The townhouse.

Your brows crease in confusion as Cassian removes your hand from his elbow, pats your shoulder, and tells you to have a good night.

You start to sputter, wanting to know why you’re here. He shrugs, “I don’t question my orders.” He gives you a two finger salute before turning around and walking away.

You turn back around, looking at the entrance to the townhouse, afraid of what you’ll find on the other side of the door, but going up and knocking anyway.

The door opens, but no one is there. A small shadow swirls around you, moving up from your feet to your face, caressing your cheek before zipping off to the kitchen.

You step through the threshold and a new shadow comes and shuts the door, another two come and help you take your coat off and hang it up for you.

You walk towards the kitchen, where you can hear the clattering of plates and some delicious aromas filling the whole house. Inside the kitchen you find Azriel, with a frilly apron tied around his waist, putting the finishing touches on two plates at the table.

“What’s all this?” You ask him, doubt creeping in that this isn’t meant for you.

“Sit, sit,” he beckons, pulling out a chair for you. You look around the room, covered in flickering candlelight and flowers. He must have been working on this for hours.

You look down at your plate, the bright colors of ratatouille catching your eye. You gasp, wanting to know how much effort he went to find a recipe for it.

He takes off the apron, sitting across from you.

“I… made an ass of myself, and I’d like to apologize first and foremost for that.” You open your mouth to interrupt him, but he holds up a hand. “Let me finish, I have.. a lot to tell you.”

He takes a deep breath, stilling his nerves. You look so pretty in the glow of the candles, and the slight concern you’ll hate him is enough to distract him, but he has to tell you this.

“There’s a reason I didn’t want you to cook for me. A few months ago we were in the library, reading, and I looked up and I watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, laughing at something in your book and I.. felt it.”

You’re in a trance, listening to him speak.

“I felt like I was dying and coming back to life, like your hand was wrapped around my heart, squeezing in time, keeping it beating. I made up some half-assed excuse to leave, because I needed to talk to Rhys.”

You looked at him, hoping your gaze would encourage him to continue.

“Rhys confirmed what I thought it was - the bond snapping. And I was terrified.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I was terrified if I told you, you’d deny the bond, you’d break my heart. So I… put off telling you. I couldn’t.”

He looks down at his lap, fidgeting his fingers.

“I kept trying to tell you, then I’d chicken out. Then when you offered to cook for me, I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let you accidentally accept the bond, accept me without knowing about it.”

He sighs, “I felt awful when I realized you thought I was rejecting you. Far from it. So I’ve uh.. made you dinner.”

You finally speak, “you made me dinner.”

“I made you dinner. And dessert, actually.”

Leave it to Azriel to outdo himself by finding the time to make dessert.

You weren’t letting a single emotion show on your face, and it made a shiver run up Azriel’s spine.

After what could have been hours, you slowly smiled, looking at him, “what kind of dessert did you make?”

He pauses, “I uh made you- us, uh chocolate mousse. I made two, but I thought we could share one.”

He looks at you, still not giving anything away, “if you want to, of course.”

He shifts, your silence making him uneasy.

“If you don’t want to accept it, I understand. I kept it from you, and I’m me, loving me would be rotten work- what are you doing?”

In the middle of his rambling, you picked up your fork, getting a nice helping of food on your fork, bringing it up to your mouth.

“Well, my mate made me dinner, and it looks incredible. Why would I not want to take a bite?”

He looks at you, a rush of emotions flooding him. Surprise, confusion, elation.

“But, but I can promise you to love me, to be my mate, it’s rotten work.”

You smile, “not to me it’s not.”

You pause, “not if it’s you,” and take a bite.

His chest sings, feeling warmth radiating throughout him. Feeling love radiate through him, and he realizes that’s you.

You keep eating the food, that hum getting louder and more vibrant, until you’ve cleared your plate, and stride over to him.

You grab his face in your hands, tilting his head so he’ll look into your eyes. “If you think I am not aware of who you are, what you do, your darkest parts, you are mistaken. And if you think I will shy away from those things, you are a fool.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you swiped your thumb across his cheek, swiping it away.

You smile down at him, and he has never felt so loved, so whole as he does in this moment. His mate, the one person the cauldron deemed would understand him, just chose him.

He feels like that little boy, looked in the dungeon, daydreaming about being saved by an angel. And he has.

He stands up, cupping your face in his hands, “I was in love with you before the bond snapped for me. I’m not here just because the cauldron told me to be, let me assure you that.”

You smile, a heat creeping up your cheeks. “I’m only here for the chocolate mousse.”

He laughs, a genuine, roaring laugh.

You pull his face in close to yours, gazing into his eyes. “And I have been in love with you since the day after I met you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “the day after?”

You smile, “well I thought I was in love with you that first day, but then on that second day I heard you speak, and I knew no one would ever compare.”

You feel his happiness in your chest, as if his heart is also in your ribcage, yours and his intertwined, dancing through your chest together.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his mouth so close to your own your breaths are intermingling.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, his hesitation.

“Only if you promise to never stop.”

[cobaltperun]

The Catalyst (3) - Monster

WandaNat x Female Reader

Chapter summary: The tensions keep rising and the first actual danger makes you act in a way you didn't think you ever would act again.

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Word Count: 4.1k

-I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin I must confess that I feel like a monster-

You headed for the lab where Banner and Stark were working on finding the Cube, still very much affected by what Loki did to Natasha. And it annoyed you. It proved a fact you’ve been trying to ignore. That, as angry as you were, you still cared and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

“L/N,” you saw her and Thor coming from the other hall, heading in the same direction as you were.

Words ‘are you okay’ got stuck in your throat and you just nodded, refusing to meet her eyes. You weren’t even sure she knew you’ve seen what happened. Fury knew, but that never meant everyone else involved knew. But no, she wasn’t okay, she was distraught, no matter how well she was hiding it.

Even if you wanted to tell her anything you were already close enough to the lab to hear the guys arguing.

You went in, followed by Natasha and Thor, only to be met with the sight you frankly should have expected. A high-tech weapon, a firearm somewhat resembling a shotgun, right there on the table. You shouldn’t have been surprised, this was S.H.I.E.L.D. after all, the same people who developed mutant depowering serum, then strengthened it, made it last longer and finally turned that into gas and went after X-Men. Now only a handful of the team remained, and they were scattered, spending their days in hiding. Perhaps you would have been one of the targets if you didn’t already leave the organization. That was a question you refused to entertain, you had enough gripes with S.H.I.E.L.D. as it was, you didn’t need those what ifs.

“Did you know about this?” Banner asked Natasha as you looked at Fury. He was dangerous, willing to do anything if he believed it was necessary.

“You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?” Natasha suggested, setting her priorities straight, Banner could not lose control.

Banner laughed in disbelief. “I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed,” he reminded her, hints of his anger slipping through the cracks of his composure.

“Loki’s manipulating you,” Natasha warned him, tried to make him see reason and you were reminded of her conversation with Loki, how he got under her skin. Banner, with his fears and insecurities, was an easy target, one Loki didn’t even need to directly speak to.

“And you’ve been doing what exactly?” he challenged her, seeing right through her and Fury’s manipulations.

“Fair point,” you had to agree, and you saw her hand twitch ever so slightly.

Natasha ignored your quip and instead focused solely on Banner and deescalating the situation. “You didn’t come here because I bat my eyelashes at you.”

“Yes, and I’m not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy,” he then turned the screen and pointed at the schematics for missiles. “I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

Everything became silent for a few moments, before Fury relented. “Because of him,” he said while pointed at Thor.

“Me?” you could hear confusion in Thor’s voice, hell, there was even a hint of hurt there.

“Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, out-gunned,” Fury argued his case, and you’ve read the reports, you’ve seen from a relative distance what Hulk fighting that other monster looked like. As it was, S.H.I.E.L.D. was truly hilariously out-gunned.

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor stated confidently.

You laughed at that, catching the man’s attention. “I’m sorry, isn’t one of your people the reason why we’re all here?”

Thor opened his mouth to respond, but Fury spoke up before Thor could utter a single word. “And, you’re not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched, they can’t be controlled,” the fact that you actually sort of fueled Fury’s argument made you want to take it back.

You turned to glare and pointed your finger at Fury. “Oh, don’t you go playing a saint here, not when you turn on your own people,” you accused him.

“Controlled? You mean like you controlled the cube?” Rogers demanded fiercely, angered by the reckless actions Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. took.

“Yeah, that’s his M.O., he tries to control people and when they don’t let him, he turns on them. How long until you turn on your precious Avengers? Hm?” you asked, getting in Fury’s face.

“You are making this personal, agent L/N, it’s clouding your judgment,” you had to admit he had balls to say that when you could turn him into a pile of ash.

“You leave her to die, and you expect her to fight for you? I’m a narcissist, but you developed a brand new level of entitled,” Stark walked up to you and shoved a bag between you and Fury. “Blueberries?” he offered so casually you almost forgot about how serious this situation was.

You observed him for a moment before taking a few. “Thanks,” at the end of the day there was no harm in the slight distraction. And come on, you were offered blueberries.

“I expect all of you to fight for this world!” Fury declared and you could tell he was getting frustrated over all of this. The team he was trying to gather was falling apart right in front of his eyes.

“But only under your terms,” you countered and when Stark offered you more blueberries you went and took them. “You don’t want a team, you want puppets to do your bidding,” at least the blueberries were good.

“This is bigger than all of your individual egos and grudges,” Natasha joined in, recognizing that Fury was losing his patience.

And you suddenly got a foul taste in your mouth that not even the blueberries could fix, of all the people to throw that at you it had to be her. “Yeah, you just keep on following orders,” you snapped at her and watched as she opened her mouth and then changed her mind, choosing to instead just look away.

“You brought this on yourselves. Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war,” Thor tried to focus the conversation back on what was important.

“A higher form?!” Rogers demanded, alarmed at the idea. And he wasn’t even around to see the worst of what the Second World War brought.

“Sure, that’s exactly how war works. They’ll wait for us to get ready,” Natasha countered sarcastically and took a few steps back, trying to remove herself from the arguments, especially if it meant arguing with you even more.

Fury turned to Thor in disbelief. “You forced our hand! We had to come up with some-“

“Nuclear deterrent! ’Cause that always calms everything right down,” Stark was having none of it.

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?” somewhere deep down you had to admit you were enjoying watching Fury have a meltdown as he turned his full attention toward Stark. Even if the meltdown wasn’t nearly as dramatic as you hoped it would be.

“At least he was open about it,” you countered. You’ve kept up with the news, you knew Stark shut down weapon manufacturing and turned his attention elsewhere. And you respected that, but more importantly you were really pissed at Fury for making a jab at something Stark once did when Fury himself had plenty of things to own up to.

“I’m sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep-“ Rogers argued back with a hell of a low blow.

“Wait- Wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?” Stark had no intention of backing down, especially when it was clear Fury was diverting the attention away from his own bullshit.

“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?” and Rogers was unknowingly doing exactly what Fury wanted.

“This wasn’t until you brought it up,” you turned away, very tempted to leave. Not just this conversation, but helicarrier in general. Loki was captured, as far as you were concerned the job was completed.

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” oh, that was rich coming from a guy most humans considered a myth. The same guy that less than a minute ago talked about the Earth sending signal that it was ready for higher forms of war.

“Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?” Fury turned to Thor yet again.

Thor seemed disgusted. “You treat your champions with such mistrust.”

“You’re not my champions!” Fury exclaimed, and though everyone was standing around it felt like even the slightest push might cause a fight.

“For once we agree. I am not his champion,” you actually felt a tiny bit sick for agreeing with Fury in any way.

“Are you going to argue with everyone here?” Rogers asked you and you could see his confusion over all of this. Your reaction, your anger, it confused him, and you weren’t even going to consider explaining yourself to him.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you shrugged at this point just going along with the chaos. It was frustrating, but it also kind of felt good to let it all out.

“And you should! Let the woman talk, she has more gripes with the super spies than any of us do,” Stark took your side, and you looked at him, not quite sure how to read him just yet. “Also, hasn’t argued with me or Banner yet,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

“I’ve still got time,” you were actually joking. So far you had no reason to argue with Stark or Banner.

“Bring it,” Stark offered you more blueberries and well, you just took another handful.

“And lose blueberry privilege? No thanks,” you popped the blueberries into your mouth and honestly considered getting a bag or two, or five, after this was over.

“Knew you were smart,” he tapped you on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Can you two focus for once or does everything have to be about you?” Rogers demanded in disbelief.

You swallowed and then let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh no, the world is ending because we ate blueberries instead of losing our minds,” you rolled your eyes and Rogers just stared at you, speechless.

But none of this was a conversation anymore, it was just a group of people yelling at one another over one thing or another. You weren’t getting anywhere like this, and chances were things wouldn’t get better anytime soon.

“You speak of control, yet you court chaos!” Thor accused Fury, and for what it was worth it, you agreed.

“It’s his M.O., isn’t it? I mean, what are we, a team? No, no, no. We’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re a time bomb,” Banner caught Fury’s attention after a while.

“You need to step away,” Fury warned him, realizing that whatever this argument brought, it could, under no circumstance, make Banner angry, or there would be consequences.

“Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?” Stark asked as he placed his hand on Rogers’ shoulder.

“You know damn well why! Back off!” Rogers pushed his hand away and glared at him.

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me,” and Stark was back at it again with Rogers. It was the clash of the opposites in every way imaginable. Red against blue, armor against whatever Rogers was wearing, and the clash of their ideals was even more apparent.

Rogers circled around Stark and glared at him. “Yeah, big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?” there was even some contempt in Rogers’ voice.

And Stark didn’t immediately glare back, he wasn’t even looking at Rogers. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” he only looked at Rogers by the end of the sentence.

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself,” scratch contempt, this was disdain, he looked at Stark and reached his conclusion about the man. And it wasn’t a positive one. “You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you,” and Rogers was completely sure of that.

“I think I would just cut the wire.” Stark shrugged, seeing no reason to be so dramatic if there was another way to solve the problem.

“Sacrifice play, how noble,” you scoffed, sick and tired of those ideas. Rogers already sacrificed himself once, nearly losing his life. In a way losing his life, since he woke up in an entirely different world. Yet he haven’t had enough, he was ready to do it all over again. Noble, but stupid ideal, as far as you were concerned.

“Always a way out. You were an agent, you accepted the risks,” Rogers turned to you, disappointed for whatever reason.

“Yeah, is that what I did? You know me so well, Rogers,” you mocked. There was a difference between the two of you. He chose to sacrifice himself; you were left to die an unnecessary death.

“You know, the two of you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be heroes,” he warned you and Stark, which was kind of funny to you because you certainly never even thought of yourself as a hero.

“A hero? Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle,” yeah, there was definitely something a lot deeper underneath those words, but you had neither the information nor the will to dig into it.

“Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds,” Rogers challenged, finally saying the words that were probably on his mind since Stark chose to go after Thor and Loki on his own.

“What, super soldier serum didn’t boost your brain?” you smirked a bit, taunting Rogers for pretty much losing the argument.

“You people are so petty, and tiny,” Thor scolded you all like that would do anything.

“Yeah, this is a team,” you looked down to see if the sarcasm dripping from Banner’s voice was causing a flood.

“Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-“ Fury began but Banner cut him off.

“Where? You rented my room!” he reminded him and you all suddenly stopped arguing, focusing entirely on Banner. He was getting angry and that was making some of you nervous.

“The cell was just-“ Fury tried to calm him down but there was no going back now.

“In case you needed to kill me, but you can’t. I know. I tried!” if the arguments didn’t stop before now they were absolutely done for as you all listened to him. “I got low. I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out. So, I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good,” he lamented over the stable environment he had. “Until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk,” he turned to Natasha and despite all the anger, despite all the things she did, you still got worried. “You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?” he asked

You moved closer to Banner and reached up for your glaive, ready just in case. Natasha and Fury reached for their guns.

“Doctor Banner, put down the scepter,” Rogers told him and Banner looked down to his left, confused and surprised to see the scepter in his hand.

Suddenly there was a beeping sound coming from one of the monitors and you looked back, seeing that the Tesseract was found. You let out a sigh of relief, it was finally over. Well, not quite because Thor still argued about where the Tesseract should be taken and Stark and Rogers were once again arguing. But then it happened, an explosion caught you all by surprise and sent you flying to the back of the lab while everyone else scattered. Stark and Rogers ended up near the entrance, Fury and Thor fell behind a table and from what you saw when the explosion happened Natasha and Banner dropped down to the equipment room.

You turned onto your back and stared at the ceiling. You were going to let them handle whatever that was on their own. Rogers was right, you weren’t a hero. You never were, and you weren’t about to start acting like one.

~X~

The explosion took her by surprise and now she was paying the price for her carelessness. A large steel pipe pinned her leg down and if it wasn’t for her super soldier serum her leg probably would have been broken. Natasha still groaned, the pain wasn’t the worst, but it was definitely there. She looked above her, toward the hole her and Banner fell through and wondered what happened to you.

It was kind of ironic. The last time you were on a mission together your positions were reversed, with you falling and getting hurt, only your injury could have been fatal. For her this would be a temporary annoyance some pain killers would handle. But it was dark, and she was hurt, and Banner was close to her, and she thought that you must have felt something like this back then as well. Only much worse because you were dying and she left you there.

“Romanoff!” she heard Fury’s voice over the earpiece and tried to pull her leg free. She still couldn’t do it, but she was getting there. What worried her was Banner; he didn’t seem like he was fine.

“Okay!” she replied to Fury, not even sure if she was telling the truth. Banner probably landed hard and was now in pain, which definitely wasn’t good for her. She watched him closely, noticing his eyes turning green and his face twisting in rage and desperation. “We’re okay, right?” she whispered fearfully.

Banner’s body seemed to be changing bit by bit and that sent panic through Natasha’s body as she struggled harder to pull her leg from underneath the pipe. He was groaning, clenching his fists like he was trying to suppress the Hulk, but it was all too much. Being pulled away from somewhere he felt relatively safe, pulled right back into this crisis, manipulated, and now in pain, it was a miracle he didn’t snap before. But she still hoped she could calm him down. “Doctor? Bruce?” she tried to call out to him, to establish at least some slight connection between them. “You gotta fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We’re gonna be okay,” she tried to assure him. “Listen to me,” she had to get him to listen.

She heard footsteps and her heart skipped a beat. Regular agents would be torn apart is Banner transformed. “You hurt?” one of them asked her and she quickly waved them away. The further from all of this they were, the better.

“We’re gonna be okay. Right? I swear on my life I will get you out of this, you will walk away, and never ever-“ she tried her best, her voice shook from pain and fear and pure panic, and all she thought about was that she didn’t even get to try and save Clint, and that she never even tried to apologize to you for what she did. And now, with Banner about to transform there was a good chance she’d never get the chance to do either of these two things.

“Your life?” he growls, mocking her oath bitterly and she couldn’t blame him. Not after everything. Understanding him didn’t help her one bit though, not when she saw him transforming. She watched in utter horror as he grew larger, his shirt tearing as he did his best to get as far from her as possible. He did  not want to hurt her, but there was no way to keep her safe here.

The lights went out for a moment and she fearfully called out to him again. “Bruce?” some of the flights flickered back on just enough for her to see her nightmare became a reality. She was no longer looking at Bruce Banner, but rather at the Hulk. The desperation made her pull her leg out from underneath the pipe just as the Hulk looked at her. Their eyes met just for a moment and she saw exactly what his intentions were. He was going to hurt her.

He was going to make her pay for manipulating him. For bringing him here. For being close to him in this very moment. And she ran as fast as she could, hoping to somehow escape him as he roared.

~X~

You still didn’t get up. You weren’t going to. As far as you were concerned if the helicarrier fell, then let it fall. This was probably Clint’s doing, but you weren’t eager to go after him either. You heard a roar, and it wasn’t human, it wasn’t even a beastly roar, it was something much, much different from either of those two.

“Natasha!” you gasped, realizing that the roar came from the Hulk, and that she was beneath you with him.

It was pure instinct that drove you, caused by the good times you spent together, caused by the idea that, as angry at her as you were you didn’t want her dead. The idea of Natasha being killed by the Hulk terrified you as you burst into flames and the ribbons of fire and lightning attached themselves to your wrists. They were long, nearly ten feet long in fact, and they flowed behind you as you jumped down the hole to where Natasha fell.

You landed easily once you slowed your fall down with some fire bursting from your feet. You looked around, noticing the destruction all around you. The Hulk wrecked the place, that much was clear but there was no Natasha in sight, so hoping she was still alive, you rushed after the Hulk and listened for more roars, which were luckily happening quite often. You jumped onto the pipes and ran, hoping you would spot Natasha easier if you were a bit higher from the ground.

You heard the sound of running and went in that direction just in time to see the Hulk running through everything like it wasn’t even there. He didn’t slow down even after he ran through some steel pipes. And Natasha was right in front of him, running for her life with him coming closer and closer with every second.

You didn’t even consider staying out of this, just fleeing and making sure you were safe. You just moved. You jumped from the pipe, enhancing your speed with lightning and sent a powerful lightning strike right at the back of his head. The Hulk stopped for a moment, roaring in anger at you slowing him down. But that was just enough time to zap right past him and grab Natasha and get her off the narrow walkway and into a wider area where you could both maneuver more easily.

“Why the- Y/N why would you do that?” she gasped and leaned back against the wall. You noticed her legs were shaking.

“You ignored her as the Hulk roared at you. You didn’t think, you didn’t panic, you knew if you made one mistake you’d be killed. The only way out was to try and buy enough time for someone else to jump in and help you. “Let’s see if I can actually fry your brain,” you got ready as the Hulk lunged at you.

“NO!” Natasha cried out, but before the Hulk could reach you, or before you could even do anything, Thor flew right into the Hulk and sent him through multiple walls.

You took a few steps back, knowing full well this would have been your end if it wasn’t for Thor. You were a mutant, with highly destructive powers, but the Hulk was the Hulk, and there was no way for you to come out on top. And most importantly, this wasn’t the place where you could go all out, especially with Natasha this close to you.

“Y/N,” Natasha’s shaky voice brought you out of your thoughts and you turned to look at her, not yet sure of what would come out of this situation.

A/N: And that's the third chapter. I think I'll be done with The Avengers part of the story in the next chapter or two, depending on how much detail I put into the fight scenes. Either way I'm happy with how this story is going and thank you all for the support! Also... I need Wanda to show up already. All the good things I have planned need her to be here as well 🤣🤣🤣

Taglist: @toxicitytiger @wandaromamoff69 @womenarehotsstuff @psychickryptonitebouquet @seventeen-x @maddsdotorg @arualdcg @ilovemybabygirlmoon @redroomgraduate @canyonyodeler

Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part / Next Part

[autumnbaguette]

Tos-Kah

Russian (noun)

An immense ache for nothing and everything all at once. An anguish from the bottom of the heart.

141 Task Force Base

1600

Ghost’s heavy boots echoed through the hall, fast pacing trying to get to the Captain Office as soon as possible. Soap voice calling his name trying to ask Ghost to calm down seems like a waste of effort.

Without even bother knocking the door, Ghost open the door to the Price’s Office. The captain sitting behind the desk, a mountain of documents on the desk, he looked a bit surprised.

“How’s the recon mission Ghost?”

“We have a problem.”

—-

It’s very sunny today, the sun blazing through the gym’s window. Finally summer is here. You are running on treadmill trying to get some exercise. Well, it’s a lie though. Your anxiety is high, Ghost and Soap supposed to be returning today from a Recon Mission somewhere is Serbia. But something isn’t sit right with you. Maybe it’s also the excitement and you are Glad that the boys are back again. You keep running, 10 minutes more then you are done.

“Sergeant Adler.”

You take out your headphones and see who call your name. It’s Soap. Standing in the middle surrounded by other soldiers. Strange. Their gun pointing at you.

“Soap what the fuck?” You asked stepping down the treadmill and trying to walk to Soap direction.

“Don’t Move! Hands on the air!” One of the soldier barks at you. You held your step. Fucking hell.

Why are they so hostile? You thought, calming your breath down, you raise your hand in surrender manners. You keep looking at Soap. He looks sad and angry, no, he looks disappointed.

The soldiers make their way to you, taking your hands behind your back and handcuffs them.

“Any explanation for this Sergeant MacTavish?” You ask him calmly. Searching his eyes, hoping maybe it just another prank.

“Sergeant Adler, you are being detained following the allegations of treachery.”

141 Task Force Base

Interrogation Room

1700

Treachery? How? Why? Your train of thoughts trying to comprehend it. You’ve been loyal to the task force since the first time you joined. No dual side missions, no more involvement with any CIA missions. Hell, You don’t even have boyfriend now since The task force is the center of your life now. Is it a nightmare? But the way your arms being clasped so tight right now is the prove that this is the reality.

They put you inside the interrogation room. Not just any interrogation room, this is The 141 task force interrogation room.

You’ve been here, but on the different side of course. Your hand still tied. There is only two chairs, face to face. A small desk in the middle, Cameras in every corner of the room.

Your eyes keep scanning the room, your brain is busy trying to make some exit scenarios just in case something bad happens. Huh. It’s a habit. Early in your career, you were CIA assets. You’re familiar with treachery, playing dirty to finish the job, easily done. Then you join the task force on Lasswell recommendations. And you are loyal ever since. You swear to God.

It’s been one hour from the arrest and they leave you there by yourself. No sign of anyone. Anxiety high, check. Over analyzing, check. This situation is triggering the flight or fight response in you; Should you just asking for forgiveness even though you have no freaking idea about this arrest at all or should you just kill everyone and run away. Difficult choices, both still don’t make any sense.

Your gym clothes still a bit wet from the sweats, your hair bun is a mess, eye bags are heavy as fuck. But you are glad that you put deodorant on before. Cant afford it being smelly both literally and figuratively.

141 Task Force Base

Interrogation Room

1730

Finally someone is here. Some random officer reading you Article 31. You heard it, doesn’t care. If they really going to interrogate you, lord have mercy those Article 31 gonna be useless as fuck.

Then you heard it, familiar voices. Captain Price. He asked the officer to leave the room, his eyes looking at you. It’s cold. Then Ghost walk through behind him. He brings files on his left hand, and just standing behind. His eyes unreadable, stoic posture. Classic Ghost.

Captain Price sitting down in front of you, his hands clasped on the table. Your eyes following his movement. He is wearing full uniform, no hat today, and he is armed. He just finish smoking cigar you reckon. One hand gun stack on his holster, definitely Glock 19. Loaded one. Two military knives, one on the strap near the left ankle, one on his back pocket.

“Done analyzing me, Sergeant?” Price said while smiling. He knows your routine, your tendency to always analyze your opponent both on familiar or hostile side.

You said nothing. Interrogations 101, know your rights. You have the right to remain silent. Observe the other side, see what they have on you and the most important one, do not show any reaction.

“Shall we?”

Ghost come forward and put the files in front of Price. He open the file and take out one single photograph and He hold it.

“Never knew that we are gonna be on different side Adler. I was under impression that you are loyal, that maybe it’s just a mistake or someone trying to rip apart our task force but here you are.”

Price slides the photo in front of you. A man and a woman, they looked happy together. Photographed somewhere in Belgium. Instinctively you flip the photo and There’s a note behind it.

«Пусть лепестки научат меня искусству отпускать»

“May the petals teach me the art of letting go.”

The photo were You and Vladimir Makarov standing side by side, his arm around your shoulder. He was looking at you, smile plastered on his face, and you? You were smiling ear to ear looking at him.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

To be continued.

A/n: kinda obsessed with COD MW now lol. Anyway, the last name for the main character is Adler, the first name can be the reader name. Also the russian language is from google translate so apologize in advance 🫶🏻

Dont expect happy ending guys, bcs this is makarov we are talking about. I love him but he is the one who killed Soap 🙁

[mysaintkitten]

Trigger-happy | Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

prompt: idek how to summarize this other than gunplay with tommy loool (18+ MDNI !!!)

WARNINGS: gunplay (real sick shit i’m not playing), degradation, unprotected sex (p in v), orgasm denial (eeeehhh)

*not proofread*

the first thing you notice is the crisp and cold dead grass beneath your knees and calves, then the cool breeze blowing against your bare skin. as you crack your eyes open, you nervously scan your surroundings. it doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re bound in a very large vacant field.

the dress you had been wearing was cut messily, the uneven fabric barely covered the tops of your thighs, and your stockings had been removed too. you couldn’t check, but just judging by how you felt, you assumed you weren’t wearing any underwear either. with your arms and ankles tied, you couldn’t do much to try and cover yourself let alone warm yourself up.

from behind you, you hear footsteps, followed by the sound of a match being lit.

“i assume you’re coherent now.” you hear a familiar voice mutter behind you. that gravely, deep, sexy voice that you know all too well.

as expected, tommy shelby comes up from behind you and steps in front of you, towering over you as you look up at him with confusion. you’d heard of tommy through the grapevine, and you’d occasionally spot him out and about. he was so enticing. like a forbidden fruit, so delicious, so dangerous, you wanted it all.

but being here now and having no choice to submit to him was having your mind and body stirring. you’re partially terrified, and just the slightest bit turned on.

“why am i here?” you finally gather up the courage to speak. tommy leaves you with an uncomfortable silence as he places his cigarette between his lips while he retrieves something from within his pockets. seconds later, he flashes his gun at you.

your body tenses at the bleak shift in energy. was tommy shelby, the man you occasionally fantasized about, moments way from killing you?

“you know …” tommy briefly takes the cigarette out of his mouth while he rummages through his other pockets for bullets. right in front of you, he loads them in one by one. “i’ve heard quite some tales about you, how could a little thing like yourself cause such problems?”

what the fuck is he talking about? for the most part, you just kept to yourself. yes, you may have been involved in some dirty work here and there but come on, who isn’t?

“i don’t know what you mean tom-“ you attempt to start before tommy cuts you off.

“aht- sweetheart, you don’t get the privilege of saying my name. it’s sir.”

“… i don’t know what you mean, sir.” you correct, your tone becoming shaky as the weight of the situation has began to settle in. again, tommy doesn’t respond, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts. tommy leeches off your nervous energy, it feeds into his superiority complex.

without saying a word, tommy aims the gun directly at your forehead, the icy metal barrel caused your heart to race faster.

“please.” you plead breathlessly, your entire life is playing out in front of your eyes, every single fuck up is looping inside your head.

by some force, an unfamiliar wave of confidence makes it way through you. maybe it’s the adrenaline mixed with some delusion, either way your actions begin to change.

“please.” you repeat, rising up to your knees as best you can with your ankles still bound. tommy keeps the gun in the same place and watches you attentively as you move around in front of him. the barrel of the gun now grazing your nose and lips.

“i’m sure we could …” you hum as you plant a kiss onto the barrel, testing the waters. “work something out, sir.”

through a chuckle, tommy asks “is this your plan? whore yourself out to try and save your life?”

“mmm …” you pretend to think for a moment, your kisses against the gun becoming more deliberate and sloppy. “i’ve always thought you were so handsome, sir. so big and bad.” you bat your lashes at him while teasingly licking the underside of the barrel.

quickly, tommy snags the gun away and shoots off into the field before quickly bringing the gun back down to where he had kept it before.

you can’t help but giggle, this entire situation is so tense— yet suddenly you cannot take it seriously for the life of you.

“wow …” you grin, kitten licking the barrel. “gives you a rush, huh?” you ask tommy. his jaw is clenched and he’s shifting his weight around in a way you’ve never seen him do before. tommy was normally so calculated, have you really thrown him off that much?

“do it.” you whisper, slowly taking the tip of the barrel into your mouth. his jaw goes slack, undoubtedly he’s imagining your lips around his member, licking and teasing him like you’re doing to his gun.

as you slowly blink, your lids becoming heavier as your body starts to get worked up, you take more of the barrel into your mouth. jesus, if any outsiders saw you mimicking fellatio on tommy shelby’s gun, along with tommy allowing you to do it, they’d likely be convinced that hell had frozen over.

tommy swallows, huffing loudly as he finds the right words to say.

“you’re disgusting.” tommy spat. your ego was bruised temporarily, until your eyes drifted down to his bulge, which ultimately revealed tommy’s true opinions on the matter.

“d’you get off on being disgusted, sir? because …” you signal to his cock as best you can without your arms being available, tommy scoffs as if him having an erection during a moment like this meant absolutely nothing.

“come on, just blow off some steam.” you purr as you muzzle the side of your head against the gun, “you’ve got a dirty, vulnerable girl right here in front of you. i couldn’t stop you even if i tried.”

finally, something snaps within tommy. with his free hand, he nudges your shoulder and pushes you down. you fall against the hard ground, and before you even have time to process that tommy is proceeding to flip you over onto your stomach.

then, you feel tommy’s big rough hand grab onto your hip. with ease, he lifts your hips up and forces you into a face-down-ass-up position. you turn your head to the side and whimper at the change, you had much less confidence in a state like this.

“i could blow your fuckin’ brains out …” tommy grumbles as he roughly whips up the bottom half of your very short dress, your back involuntarily arches at the brisk wind hitting your most private, and now sensitive areas. you can tell you’re wet, and tommy can too, cause he can see the wetness glistening off of you. “and all you’re thinking about is getting your holes filled?”

as you mewl back to him, you gasp when you feel the cold barrel make contact with your desperate core. he toys with your slick, watching how quickly your sticky arousal eagerly coats whatever it touches. he pushes the tip of the barrel inside, almost fucking you with his gun.

and as if things couldn’t get worse, his skilled thumb finds its way to your clit. he rubs it and groans when he sees you get wetter around his gun, a bit more of the barrel accidentally sliding inside of you due to your increase in arousal. this is sickening, tommy is getting you off with the weapon he uses to off whoever wrongs him.

tommy takes the gun and his thumb away from you, before you can protest you hear fabric rustling and the sound of a zipper being ripped down. you hold your breath with anticipation, until you feel tommy’s warm tip press against your opening.

“mmh-“ you moan, attempting to rock your hips back against him. you really didn’t need to though, because seconds later tommy shoved his full length inside of you. the sudden stretch and fullness made your mouth hang open with pleasure and pain.

tommy pulls his hips back before slamming them back in, immediately fucking you with a relentless pace. you felt like a cheap whore beneath him, like all he was thinking about was getting himself off. hell, he probably was thinking that, and that only made it hotter.

“such a fuckin’ whore… ‘n still so … shit … so tight.” tommy groans, tipping his head back while mumbling strings of curses under his breath.

“uh-huh … mmh—“ you gasp as tommy’s angles change, causing him to slam into that special spot inside you. “right there, right there—“ you ramble as your whole body pulses with pleasure. again, tommy’s not doing it to make you feel good, he just happened to tweak his angle. and if it just so happens to make you come on his cock, that’s just life he thinks to himself as he feels your arousal spill down onto his balls.

as your mind reels from tommy’s harsh pounding, you feel the barrel being pressed against the side of your head.

“maybe it would be better if i shot you like this.” he pants, laughing breathily to himself. “we could keep that pretty face of yours intact.”

your fate sat in his hands. he could kill you right then and there, you’d have zero say in it. it’s petrifying, and incredibly erotic.

you huff, “you think i’m pretty?”

tommy presses the gun against your head harder, “that’s the part you’re focused on? jesus … stupid fucking whore.”

your cunt clenches around him from his degradation, this wasn’t going to last long. the pace tommy has stuck with was not meant for longterm endurance, that’s why he chose it.

tommy let’s out a low purr at the sensation, “you really are disgusting … gripping my cock like that …” the last bit of his sentence had the slightest bit of praise hidden within it, you absolute ate up such a drastic bittersweet mixture.

his thrusts start to get janky, and his breathing is loud and laboured. much too soon for your liking, tommy pulls out and feverishly pumps himself, huffing harshly as he spills his load onto your ass and back.

you release a little whine. like, obviously the man who was sent to kill you isn’t going to sit there and make you come, but it was definitely nice while it lasted.

you’re pulled out of your thoughts as you feel tommy silently untying you. before long, your limbs are fully free.

tommy pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a generous inhale before speaking.

“if anyone asks, just say you broke out of your restraints before i got here.”

you raise your brow, challenging tommy in a way. “and what if i don’t? what if i say what actually happened?”

tommy laughs, slipping his gun back into his pocket.

“then i’ll find you and actually put a bullet between your eyes. how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

—

this was one of my before-bed imagine scenarios. sigh. i’m sorry god.

[xfeiteism]

thump thump | liu xiao

for already being familiar with the multiple sides of liu xiao's nature, you're sure impressed by yourself for still falling for it.

w.c: 1.1k

a.n: is it bad that i would defend liu xiao to hell and back even tho i can name at least three characters that objectively deserve to point a gun to his head? yes but i had to write this

liu xiao doesn't give a shit about pool. maybe he has a knack for it, and maybe he likes having the upper hand in the sport, but it's not as though he makes it a weekly routine to aim a cue stick against a billiards ball.

and yet, he's never been as terribly entertained by a game of pool like he is tonight.

all too mutually familiar to one another, it had been hard to miss each other upon fleetingly walking past each other – only for a brief moment and within the distraction of your respective companies, but it was simply impossible to not stop in your tracks and lock eyes.

you should've known better than to accept his invitiation for a game while wearing that on-brand smile.

halfway through, the game wasn't a game anymore. or maybe it was, but definitely not in pool and extremely much to his one-sided entertainment.

you're multiple vacant pool tables away from the people you both had initially arrived with. in the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder how visible you are to their attentions, the room solely lit up by dimmed lights hanging over each table.

on the long edge of yours, you're leaning back against it, hands clawing onto the wood hard enough for your knuckles to whiten and nails almost break.

the conversation that had diverted you away from the game had been one that should in no way reach the ears of others; exchanging matters involving individual field of works kept secret from most of those in your surroundings, clearly of importance and yet, you can hardly remember a single word of it. not in this situation.

you'd subconsciously left your cue stick across the table. liu xiao rests his palm on the tip of his own, the free palm keeping his weight up on the edge, right next to your own. he's leaning forwards, very much so, to such extent you can feel his even breath fan your skin.

"it's a shame that you don't want to negotiate. i'm sure we'd benefit equally of it," liu xiao sighs, but he hardly sounds upset by your firm rejection. you can tell, because he's still showing you that pleased smile. "i don't enjoy forcing people into business though, so i won't bother you any further about it."

"if you get that, move back already," you croak out, trying to stay as composed as possible despite being completely betrayed by your eyes refusing to meet his.

"why?"

unbelievable question, really, but nothing shocking when it comes from liu xiao.

"i believe we've already made it clear that i'm not interested in business–" your sorry excuse of an argument is interrupted by a quiet gasp when he leans in even closer. "a-also, this looks really weird to the rest."

"that's funny." his smile widens, and the smugness in it makes you wonder if it'd be a bad idea to hockey-check him into the closest wall. "you've never struck me as someone who cares about what others think – not that they can see anything from here anyway."

"they have no idea we already know each other and it's better like that. i don't want them to get the wrong idea."

"about what?"

"y–you know what i mean! it's not like we're close to begin with," you hiss back at him. you can tell your confidence is slowly but surely starting to shatter though and you attempt to swerve the topic before he can push it any further, "besides, i want to finish the game already."

liu xiao briefly raises an eyebrow at this. his hand leaves the edge of the table and you just can't help but flinch when you suddenly feel his fingertips over the skin of your cheek.

coming from him, the touch could be anything from a threat to a way of entertaining himself even more. whichever it is – because you honestly can't tell this time – you're left frozen beneath it. it doesn't help when the digits ghost down your jaw and by the time the tip of his index finger rests under your chin, you can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"even though you've never cared a bit about pool?" liu xiao taunts, his finger sinking lower alongside your neck with each word he speaks. "i was actually surprised to see you here – you must really want to keep your true colors a secret from your friends, no?"

"isn't that just–"

you cut yourself short when he slowly drags his finger across the curve of your collarbone. shoulders hunching even more, your head sinks lower, as if you care so much more about the old, shoe print-stained wooden floor than the fact that you can almost feel his forehead against your own.

it may undoubtedly be in liu xiao's nature to play with any functioning part of one's brain – god forbid you already don't know that – but at the very least, he knows what lines to not cross; the digit doesn't travel any further than right below your collarbone, showing no signs of departing from your absolutely blazing skin, but humbly staying in place.

that could be great and all, in fact you could even appreciate the thought, had it not been for the realization slowly sinking in the longer the touch lingers within that area.

it finally hits you, how your heartbeat isn't only hammering in your ears, but in his as well. your eyes widening is enough to reveal your new knowledge.

"what's wrong? i know it's way out of my ability to get you scared – you're not angry with me, are you?" your silence drags out a chuckle from him that he doesn't as much as try to hide. "or is it something else? i'd love to find out, you know?"

cat got your tongue. your thoughts, your sanity, composure, confidence, guts and everythig. that said, you're hyperaware of the half-lidded eyes behind the glasses boring into your own, tips of your noses grazing against each other and the way you can feel his lips almost, almost touch yours–

"y/n, are you done? we're leaving soon!"

you can only faintly hear your company calling out to you from the other side of the room, but it's just enough to get your mind together. your painfully tight grip releases the table, yet they barely have the strength to push him aside by his chest. when your shoulder bumps into his, you don't care the slightest about turning around to face him and apologize, opting to instead let your rushed feet drag you away from there. while reuniting with your friends, you do your best to ignore liu xiao far behind you.

"it was nice seeing you again," you hear him call out, and you make out that stupid smile lacing his words, "let's finish our game next time."

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 7 ⬅ch.6

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. nightmares. wc 3.2k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this chapter got me feelin some typa way

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ghost struggled to come to terms with his feelings towards you. he knew he had grown to like you, but what did that entail exactly? was he interested beyond friendship? and even if he was, he couldn’t act on his desires – a lieutenant can't get himself involved with a subordinate medic. and the fact that you were often on his team meant he was your direct superior half of the time… things could get messy extremely fast. 

he also liked to tell himself that you wanted something he couldn’t offer. a relationship – romantic or platonic – he had an unrelenting habit of closing people out.

so ghost decided he should avoid you. not entirely, that would be impossible , but he had to shake you from his thoughts. he needed time to wipe out the memory of you pressed against him in that closet. of the way your hands felt wrapped around him on his motorcycle. the fear that coursed through him as he watched you run into that burning house. 

he thought of you often, and he fucking hated it . 

he thought back to the day he spoke to you before thinking: “ you’re the one who told me to let people in. ” you had properly scared him when you ran into that flaming building. that’s when he knew he had let you slip into the cracks of his shell without even realizing it. 

i’d sooner kick your ass off my fuckin’ team if it meant keepin’ you safe. from leavin’ me. 

he had immediately regretted the words. he told you he’d kick you off the team if it meant keeping you from getting yourself killed – aka – leaving him. 

he ran a hand down his scarred face as he looked in the bathroom mirror and sighed. he was worried you’d get the wrong idea. granted, he meant exactly what he said, but admitting that to you was a new level of danger simon wasn’t accustomed to. becoming acquainted with his teammates was one thing, but letting you in was a whole different story and he didn’t know why. he didn’t know why he started to crave your presence, ever since he had you bandaging him up after he was shot weeks ago. you had been different… you were still radiating hope. this shithole hadn’t crushed your soul yet. you reminded him a bit of soap. 

he grabbed the sides of the sink and stared at his reflection, disgust rising in his throat. why, of all people, did it have to be you? why couldn’t his cold, dead heart beat for someone outside of this line of work? or even better, for no one at all . 

i’ve neva had a lil’ crush on my lieutenant, actin’ like this is all a big fuckin’ game.

his own words clogged his brain. god, there was no way you’d forgive him for being such an ass. and maybe that was for the best. 

he went over all the reasons he needed to pry you from his thoughts: your relationship would be forbidden; he’d hurt you; you’d probably hurt him; you’re too young for him; he has no fucking idea how to navigate a romantic relationship. all solid reasons to him.

then a stupid, careless thought popped into his head. maybe…maybe he could just get you out of his system… but were you the type of girl who could do sex with no strings attached? simon didn’t want to admit that he’d certainly be the one who’d get attached, so he scratched that off his – lacking – list of options with the rationale being that you’d probably get hung up over him.

all these logical reasons, and he still couldn’t shake you. he was fucked . 

it was late and simon had a meeting with price, a quick debrief on the whole hassan situation. he kept his outfit light, sporting just a long-sleeved black shirt, black sweats, his combat boots, mask, and gun strapped to his hip. most of the barracks would be asleep by now unless soap had somehow convinced gaz to play another round of poker. 

ghost walked the halls, stealthy in the shadows of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. it was a natural part of his gait now: to blend in and be silent. 

he stretched his arms over his head as he sauntered down the corridors. he heard a strange noise echo down one of the halls and he halted. curious, he changed direction and started to walk down the right corridor towards the sound, hearing the noise more clearly now. it was coming from one of the rooms. 

it sounded like… crying. someone was sobbing and whimpering in distress. 

ghost’s first reaction was that someone was hurt, in trouble, but as he edged towards the door, he realized it sounded more like someone having a night terror. 

he slowly pushed open the door that had already been left slightly ajar, letting the faded light slip into the room, and spotted you on your tiny, smaller-than-a-twin sized bed. he cursed at himself when he realized it was your room he was walking into uninvited.

but that moment of doubt slipped when he heard you begin to cry, whining in your sleep. he made it over to the side of your bed and said your name softly, not sure what else to do. 

when you didn’t respond, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried again. “ come on. wake up .” he attempted to be quiet, he didn’t want anyone to hear him and come snooping about, finding him in your room… at night… in the dark. wanting to prevent that, he quickly went to your bedroom door and shut it before going back to your side whilst muttering curses. his hand came out, softly resting on your shoulder, and he gently shook you. “wake up,” he tried again. 

he clicked on the light by your bedside and felt his heart twinge when he looked back at you. the lamp created a terrible yellow glow, but that didn’t disguise the tears you had streaming down your cheeks. 

he leaned over you, his body getting precariously close to yours, and he gave you a harder nudge. this time,  you finally opened your eyes. the tears continued to pour down your face and you hiccuped a tired sob out. ghost tucked some of your disheveled hair behind your ear on instinct. “ you’re okay ,” he said faintly. 

“ghost…?” he saw your lips quiver as you sat up, realizing you weren't alone in the room, and you reached for him, almost colliding with ghost’s head, wrapping your arms around his neck. he jolted upright a bit in surprise, pulling you with him. his arms hesitated, but after a few moments, they found a spot around your waist like his body was familiar with this. 

he could feel you crying into his neck and his hand on you tightened, pulling you flesh against him. 

“please don’t tell anyone,” you mumbled against him. 

ghost was oblivious to his hands as they began to rub circles on your back. “why would i tell anyone?”

you pulled away, your hands still clasped around his neck, and looked at him. ghost gulped. your eyes were red and teary but that just made them that much more vibrant. you had tear marks down your cheeks and your hair was all over the place. his chest tightened momentarily. he desperately wanted to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but he refrained by tightening his grip on you instead.

your eyes shifted down in embarrassment. “just… will you keep this between us? please.”

it hurt him to think that you either thought so lowly of him to worry that he might use this against you, or because of the fact that you didn’t want anyone to know you were struggling. 

a pang of hurt spread through ghost before quickly subsiding. did you think he was the type of person who would casually gossip? fuck , of course you did. you were probably worried he’d throw this back in your face in the future. he had done nothing but diss out insults and begruding remarks at you since day one. has he ever said a kind word to you? he was trying to remember, but your face so close to him made it hard. 

ghost thought about his own nightmares that plagued him and how he hadn’t told anyone either. he kept it to himself. knowing that feeling, he nodded at you in an unspoken promise: this was between the two of you, and the two of you only. 

you released your arms awkwardly and ghost set you back down so you were sitting on your bed. that's when he realized you were only in a tank top and sleep shorts – skimpy ones at that. he averted his eyes quickly, though he desperately wanted to linger on you. 

“sorry,” you said. ghost couldn’t see, but he figured you’d be blushing. “this is so embarrassing.” you buried your face in your hands. 

“it’s not,” he said finally. 

you looked up at him and gave him a mirthless smile. “it is. i can’t believe i still get nightmares like a kid.”

ghost’s hands slipped into his pockets, unsure of what else to do with them. “i get 'em too.”

you shied away from his gaze. “you don’t have to say that.”

“i wouldn’t lie jus’ t’make you feel better.” he didn’t know why he had to say it like that, but he was relieved when you gave a small laugh, even if it was breathless. 

“yeah, well it seems more appropriate for you.”

he tilted his head in a quizzical manner. 

“ i just mean that you have been in combat… i can’t imagine the horrors you’ve seen… things you’ve done…”

“jus’ cause you haven’t killed people with your own hands, doesn’t mean you can’t have things that haunt you.”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. your intention wasn’t to get ghost to comfort you – he was probably wishing he had never walked into your room right about now – you were simply embarrassed and wanted to gloss over the situation, but it came off as self-deprecating. it figures he wouldn’t let that slide. 

ghost shifted between his feet. you felt your face warm as he stared down at you sitting cross-legged on your bed. 

ghost opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. “would you stay with me?”

oh my god. you waved your hands in front of you frantically. “no, sorry. i don’t know why i said that. i–i’ll just go bother soap. don’t worry about me,” you said all at once as one long slur of words. you can’t believe you just asked your lieutenant that, especially now that he knows about your ‘lil crush’, as he called it. he’d certainly think you were obsessed or reading things wrong. 

to much of your astonishment, ghost gestured his head forward, indicating he wanted you to scoot over. you clumsily did, your shoulder now against the wall. 

the room was small, just one bed with a mattress – the other cot was barren, your roommate situation up in the air at the moment – and there was no chair. he only had one option if he was to stay with you.

a pang of annoyance coursed through ghost. what could johnny do that he couldn’t? he thought to himself in challenge. and so he settled in beside you, his legs stretching across your bed. it was a tight squeeze with his formidable frame and your tiny ass bed.

you felt your whole body heat up, his shoulder against yours as he squeezed into the small space. 

ghost was doing precisely the opposite of what he had just lectured himself on. 

“you don’t have to…i didn’t mean to–”

“jus’ close that mouth of yours and go t’sleep,” he said coolly, though his skin was burning where you leaned against him. 

you were propped up on your pillow and you both laid there in silence. ghost wanted to say something – to tell you he was sorry. to tell you that he is only an ass because he doesn’t know how to control his emotions. but the words evaded him. and that was probably for the best. 

you weren’t sure how you were going to fall asleep with ghost now at your side, keeping you on edge. but after only a few minutes, your eyes grew heavier and fluttered shut against your will, your head lulled against him as sleep overtook you. his presence reminded you that you were safe. 

he felt safe . 

simon cursed under his breath as he felt himself smile when you leaned into him, your body falling into a slumber. he knew better than to allow this. he pushed his mask up slightly to rub his mouth and chin, itching to get away from you, and touch you, all at the same time. 

you woke in the morning, alone in your bed, your blanket tucked around you, and the smell of ghost lingering on your sheets. 

days had gone by and you and ghost had been successful in ignoring one another. 

you stood in the training room, plenty of other soldiers around you, either working out on a machine alone or in pairs. you stood on a training mat and huffed. you had decided to keep practicing your combat skills for the chance that another mission would pop up. you wanted to be prepared. only having the skillset of a medic wasn’t cutting it for you anymore. not after what you went through. what if one of the other men hadn’t been there to save you – i.e. ghost.

you were stretching your arm across your chest when hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you up off the ground. a burst of giggles left you as soap spun you around before plopping you back down. you turned to face him. “can i help you?” you teased. 

“actually, thought maybe i’d help ya train for a lil bit. if ya wanted,” he offered. he wore leisure workout clothes and had already set his water bottle down beside the mat. 

“you don’t have to. i’m sure you’d rather–”

“let me stop you right there, lass. i'm offerin’ because i want to. quit second guessin’ yourself.”

you gave him a faint smile. he was right. soap was always right – but you would never tell him that. it would just get to his head. 

“alright. fine, then.”

he grinned and began to stretch. 

thirty minutes must have gone by and you were drenched in sweat as soap pinned you to the mat time and time again. 

“i thought you woulda improved since last time,” soap teased. 

you playfully rolled your eyes and brushed your hands against your sweats, getting ready to go again. “it’s not my fault! i’m trying!”

“well, whatever percent you’re givin’ it, double that.”

you scoffed but smiled brightly at him. you had been so caught up in the moment, you never noticed when ghost had came into the training room. there were multiple soldiers scattered around, so even if you had been paying attention, you still might not have seen him.

he wore gray sweats today and a tight black shirt. a sight you would have got choked up over.

“arms up,” johnny commanded. 

you listened, setting your hands and arms in the correct position that he had shown you earlier. then soap launched at you, and you tried to dodge his attack, side-stepping swiftly. but soap was lithe and nimble. he hooked his arm around you and pulled you to the ground and you let out a yelp. 

you landed on your back and looked up at soap breathlessly. he was nestled between your legs that were bent at the knee. his hands were on either side of your shoulders. 

“now what’re you gonna do, lass?” he teased. 

you smirked and attempted a move he had demonstrated earlier and that you had used when ghost pinned you in this position. you squeezed your thighs around soap’s waist and tried to roll your body. you felt soap go limp, allowing you to more easily roll him underneath you – if he hadn’t, you likely wouldn’t have had the strength to maneuver him. 

soap smirked as you landed on top of him, straddling his hips and giving him a self-assured, satisfied look. 

“don’t look too cocky. i let you move me.”

you rolled your eyes and huffed. “soap,” you whined. “how am i gonna learn if you do that?”

soap’s hands lingered on your hips, both of you blatantly unaware of how intimate you may have looked right then. 

“you’re half my size, lass. so unless you wanna bulk up, yer never gonna be able to move me.”

you shook your head. he was right. 

“i jus’ want you t’know how to execute the basics for now. know t’motions. don’t worry bout anything else.”

“ugh,” you sighed. “you really had me thinking i could best you.”

soap chuckled, and in a lazy motion, he pushed you off of him so you fell to your side on the mat. “never gonna happen, love.”

you pursed your lips and begrudgingly accepted his hand as he hoisted you up. 

ghost was sat across the gym, leaning on his spread-out knees, twirling a knife in his hand as he watched you and soap. you hadn’t felt it, but his eyes were on the two of you the entire time he was in the training room. there was fire blazing inside ghost as he watched you and soap all over each other.

soap was squeezing his water bottle into his mouth, walking towards ghost. “hey, l.t.” he called. ghost’s eyes flickered away from you – who was currently collecting your things to leave – and looked up at soap. he gave him a grunt as a greeting, but that was all. 

“what’s got your panties in a knot?” johnny asked, scratching his scruff as he eyed which machine to work out on next. 

ghost’s hand clenched his knife, his eyes tracing your figure as you left the gym, completely unaware of his presence. he should talk to you , he thought. things had been left… uncomfortable between the two of you. were you friends? did you still think he hated you? were you actually interested in him? could you forgive him for being a jerk? did he even want you to forgive him? were you still embarrassed about him finding you crying in your room?

ghost stood against his better judgment, wanting to follow you out of the gym, but before he could take his first step, gaz appeared beside you, draping an arm across your shoulders, and walking with you out the door, both of you laughing at something he said. 

“fuckin’ hell,” ghost muttered to himself. he slid his knife aggressively into it’s sheath above his sweats and decided to take his frustration out the only way he knew how: overworking his body. 

johnny watched as simon approached some equipment and jumped up to the pull-up bar and began heaving himself up and down with what looked like he was exerting no effort at all. the way he was going at it so hard made johnny wonder if he was okay. 

“ghost,” soap called.

“leave it, soap,” simon replied with a grunt, wanting to drown his inability to digest his own emotions in a workout. he’d rather clear his mind with needless violence, but this would have to do for now.

chapter 8 ➡

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE SOPRANOS *  assorted dialogue from the television show, adjust as necessary

i find i have to be the sad clown: laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

i went ahead and ordered some for the table.

when you're married, you'll understand the importance of fresh produce.

we've got guns here.

he just told you to shut the fuck up.

the things i take pleasure in, i can't do.

don't you ever say you hate life.

oh, poor you!

so what, no fucking ziti now?

you want compromise? how's this?

i'll keep this short and sweet.

you're weak. you're outta control. and you've become an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else.

sometimes it's important to give people the illusion of being in control.

are you in the mafia?

tomorrow i can be on time, but you'll be stupid forever.

let me tell you a couple of three things.

you're not gonna believe this.

a wrong decision is better than indecision.

i'm like king midas in reverse here. everything i touch turns to shit.

if you can quote the rules, then you can obey them.

we're soldiers. soldiers don't go to hell. it's war. soldiers kill other soldiers.

we're in a situation where everyone involved knows the stakes and if you are going to accept those stakes, you've got to do certain things.

there's an old italian saying: you fuck up once, you lose two teeth.

someday soon, you're gonna have families of your own and if you're lucky, you'll remember the little moments like this that were good.

hey, i don't even let anyone wag their finger in my face.

it's good to be in something from the ground floor.

those who want respect give respect.

is this a woman thing? you ask me how i'm feeling, i tell you how i'm feeling, and now you're going to torture me with it.

lately, i'm getting the feeling that i came in at the end. the best is over.

my father was in it. my uncle was in it.

maybe i was too lazy to think for myself.

buy land, 'cause god ain't making any more of it.

i don't care how close you are. in the end, your friends are gonna let you down.

family... they're the only ones you can depend on.

take your hat off.

teddy roosevelt once gave an entire speech with a bullet lodged in his chest. some things are just a matter of duty.

some people are so far behind in a race that they actually believe they're leading.

sometimes we're all hypocrites.

other people's definitions of you, sometimes they're more about making themselves feel better. you gotta define yourself.

people only see what you allow them to see.

death just shows the ultimate absurdity of life.

you know when i was depressed i said i didn't want to live? well, i'll tell you something. i didn't want to die.

that's why dinosaurs don't exist no more.

don't touch that! my program's coming on.

i wish the lord would take me now.

our existence on this earth is a puzzle.

i'm getting my wine in position to throw in your damn face.

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER TWO - an interrogation

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

"You've got the wrong person."

"I can assure you we don't."

"Then what the fuck did I do?"

Price sits back in his chair with his arms crossed, staring out the one-sided mirror that separates him from the interrogation taking place.  The room is dark save for the mirror, the laptop in front of him, and the red-yellow embers of his third cigar in the span of an hour.  He fidgets uselessly with it, rolling the paper between the fingers in his right hand while the other clutches a pair of dog tags.  The metal feels twice as cold in his palm as he listens to the two people in the room in front of him.

Laswell looks tired—typically perfect hair beginning to fall from her bun and the bags under her eyes deeper than usual.  He doesn’t doubt he looks the same, if not worse.  Despite the majority of the day dead and gone, the only thing they have to show for the amount of time spent in this room is a quickly filling tray of cigarette ashes and a messy desk of conflicting files, open laptops, and empty mugs of both tea and coffee.

"Nothing.  We just have some questions regarding your birth family."

You chuckle bitterly, your voice strained from the day's events even through the intercom.  "You had me kidnapped and nearly killed for a couple of questions?"  

Laswell's mouth opens and then snaps shut again. 

Price flips the dog tags through his fingers like the world’s most unlucky coin.

"This isn't an interrogation,"  she eventually responds.  "We’re trying to help you.”

“Then why am I in an interrogation room?”

He thinks its hard to find anything surprising, nowadays.  Price thought he saw pretty much everything there was to see already.  He’s traveled the world, faced every obstacle with bared teeth and clenched fists.  He’s seen death in all its forms, he’s seen someone come back from death—and yet, this was a new problem.  One he hadn’t encountered before.  A mission he, for once, didn’t know how to approach. 

He sighs, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees as he watches Laswell shuffle through papers.  This is usually what the chief specialized in—getting intel—but it appears even she's left flustered and clueless with how to handle the iron will of a shell-shocked teenager.

You’re sitting in a similar position as Price himself as you sit across from Laswell; a too-big S.A.S. sweater on your shoulders paired with sweatpants of a similar fit, your previous clothes ruined with blood.  Eyes downcast, hands clasped and shaking; Price can’t imagine the things running through your head.  He felt even worse that they didn’t have spare shoes, leaving you in your untied sneakers stained red-brown with the blood from earlier that day.  

You’re lost in thought.  You try to focus on what Laswell says, but her questions seem to go in one ear and then back out the other if you don't snap with a sarcastic comeback.  Laswell swallows heavily, much more used to this routine involving adults with war crime lists as long as the very building is tall.  She’s being gentle—well, as gentle as she can manage given your sharp tongue—but you haven’t given them any answers since you showed up.

You're scared.  You want answers.  Anyone in your situation would be the same.

So, after a few more minutes of talking and getting nowhere, Laswell stands.  She spares you one last, sympathetic look before crossing the room to the door—where she leaves the room in favor of the small office Price resides in.  A long breath leaves her as she stops at the table, lifting her arms and then letting them fall back to her sides in defeat.

“Nothing,”  she breathes.

Price nods.  He takes another drag of his cigar and exhales the smoke in a heavy sigh.

“Figures,”  he says, leaning over to snuff the embers out in the dish.  “Simon scared ‘em shitless.”

Laswell scoffs.  Shaking her head, she drops the file on the desk with a slap before sitting down herself—rubbing her tired face.  Her gaze falls to you sitting alone in the room, her brow furrowed tight.  In all his years of working with her, Price doubts he’s seen someone get under her skin like this in a long time.  

“We can’t wait for answers—not with the news spreading like this.”

He hums.  “You’re right.  We can’t.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”  She asks, genuinely.  “Because this isn’t working.  The kid's not talking until we tell them what's going on."

Price is silent for a moment.  None of the team had expected anyone else to catch wind of your location so quickly—nor had they expected such an organization like the Shadow Company to get involved.  What was supposed to be a silent search-and-rescue mission turned into something more of an ambush.  Something Price knows Graves will eventually seek repercussions for.

He feels his stomach twist from the thought, but he shakes it from his head.  Right now, proving to you that you weren’t in any danger was his priority.  The sooner you felt safe, the sooner you would answer questions—the sooner Price could formulate some semblance of a plan going forwards.

He pushes himself to his feet.  “Then we'll just have to give 'em what they want."

Laswell sighs, “John—”

“We owe the kid answers, Kate,”  He insists.  "We have for a long time.  Far too long."

“And if Graves or someone worse gets to them?  What happens then…when they give up intel?”  Laswell argues.   “We’ll just have to keep them until they’re ready to give up answers.  It’s the only way to make sure we don’t get compromised if shit hits the fan again.”

Price’s brow furrows.  He looks back out into the interrogation room for a moment, at how you stare down at the table wiping your bruised face on your sleeves.  Laswell is right, of course—she usually is.  If you gave up sensitive information to save your own skin after everything you’ve been through, nobody would blame you.  It could ruin everything, and it would be his fault, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take.  

He turns to Laswell again, his voice low as he steps closer. Palms flat on the desk, he leans down to her level.  “Then we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen, yeah?”

Laswell just stares at him for a second, her gaze hard in calm resolve.  She seems to consider his preposition, carefully weighing the pros and cons as she searches Price’s gaze for any hint of self-doubt.  As usual, she finds none.

She sighs again, shakes her head, and reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the table.

"Fifteen minutes, Captain."  She says, resolute, as she lights a cigarette between her teeth.  "That's all you get."

Fifteen minutes.  He’s saved lives with less, but yet he still finds himself taking a nervous breath as he grasps the doorknob anyway.  Up until this point he hasn't officially met you.  In a perfect world, he probably never would have needed to.

He swallows the lump in his throat and opens the door.

Immediately, your eyes dart up to meet his.  Your expression is a tangled mess of things.  Fear, maybe.  Anger, definitely.  There’s sadness and anxiety in there, too, as Price meets your gaze for a moment before padding inside.  He makes a point to leave the door open behind him as he walks forwards, pulls the chair out, and sits down with his hands on the table.  Your legs are pulled up to your chest now; arms hugging your knees as you stare up at him—defensive.

Like you're a cornered animal ready to bite.  

You are, but that's besides the point.

He regards you for a moment, attempting to look past how you have your father’s eyes—bright and focussed and unrelenting underneath the deep, puffy bruise on your left eyelid.  The wound looks old, at least by a few hours, so he knows it wasn’t caused by any of his men.  Even the Shadows wouldn’t swoop so low as to hurt you without reason.

"Nice eye,"  is all he says.

Immediately, you look away, suddenly self-conscious as you wipe at the aching, bruised flesh.  It hurts, that’s for sure, but you do a good job at hiding it.

"The other guy looked worse,"  you lie.

"A soldier?"

"No…"  you clear your throat and shift, your shoulders easing just a little from exhaustion.  "No.  Some kid.  Long story.”

"Ah,"  he chuckles a little, as if you aren't sitting across from him with your hands still stained in some dead guy's blood.  "Somehow, I don't doubt that."

"Who are you?"

Hm.  The dreaded question.  For a second, Price debates how much he should tell you—and he knows Laswell is holding her breath hoping he'll hold his tongue, but you deserve answers.  It's the least he could do.

The dog tags feel like they were burning a hole in his pocket.

"Captain John Price.  British Special Air Service."  He answers through a sigh as he sits back in his chair.  "But you can just call me Price."

That furrow in your brow loosens just a little.  Slowly, you remove your arms from around yourself, letting your shoes hit the linoleum flooring.  Maybe you recognized his name somehow, or maybe you’re just relieved to be talked to like a human and not a cornered animal—but you’re more relaxed than you have been that whole day.

"And the woman?"  You press.

"A friend,"  Price answers honestly.  "She helped us find you.  You can trust her, too."

"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

Price hesitates at that, glancing towards the one-sided mirror where he can feel Laswell watching.  Then, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out the dogtags.  He tosses them over and they slide across the metal table before landing in your hands.  You turn the metal chips over in your palm, tracing the enamel with shaky hands.  When you look back up at Price, it's in disbelief.

They're your father's.

"To make a very long story short: over a year ago he had a mission,"  Price begins.  "Your old man was tasked with disarming a missile.  He succeeded, changed the code...and died before he could deliver it.  As of a month ago, it's been missing.”

It's a grossly summarized version of what happened over the course of the past year and a half, but Price figures he’ll spare you the details.  Details like how your father was tortured for months before he was finally killed while escaping.  Details like while he was stuck in enemy territory—you were all he would write about.  Your interests.  Your face.  Your words.

You're silent for a moment, squeezing the cold metal in your palms.  When you speak, it's quiet.

"That's a lie," you argue.  "Dad died when I was five. In Mexico."

Price nods.

“Maybe,” he says quietly.  “But, like his kid—he wouldn’t go down easy.”

You let out a breath, sitting back against the chair as you digest the information handed to you.  He watches dots string together in your mind as you mull over your whole life up until that very moment.  He knows what you’re thinking of already; not because he ever met the man personally, but because with the past few months he spent reading and rereading every letter, email, and assignment report—he feels like he did.  He knows you’re rethinking every letter your father sent you right up until his supposed “death" and every call promising his return soon.

He knows it’s a lot to take in, and that aching guilt in his chest rears its ugly head.  He wished he could do more—apologize on behalf of your father, reassure you things would be fine, take you back to your home…but, alas, all of those things were impossible.  So, instead, he’d answer whatever question you asked.

Because that was all he could do.

Almost a full minute passes before you speak again, quietly.  "And why, exactly, am I so important?"

"Because your father kept a journal,”  he answers promptly.  “In that journal, he said you knew the code.”

You laugh bitterly.  “It’s not like he was around to tell me—I don’t know shit.”

“I figured,”  he sighs, nodding.  “So, until we figure things out…you’re sticking with me and my men."

You bristle again, shoulders tensing.  "I never agreed to that."

"I never gave you the choice,"  John hardens his tone, not leaving any room for argument.  "It's what your father would've wanted.  Those were his last orders."

At that, you fall quiet; your face scrunched with frustrated anger and unshed tears as you look away to steel yourself.  John sighs and softens again.

"You’ll have a temporary room for the next few days.  Then, Friday; you, me, and my team are moving to a different base to plan and gather intel.  Everyone here answers to me, and if any of ‘em give you trouble—I’m never far away.”

He leans in close.

"I'm sorry, kid.  Really," he says, "but you can't go home."

Finally, you nod in understanding, your gaze falling to the table.  Lost in thought again, another long moment passes.  He watches as you look down at the dog tags before, hesitantly, lifting them up and over your neck.  They fall to rest at your chest as you clasp them before looking up at Price.  You won’t ask the question—won’t admit what you’re thinking—but he meets your gaze with calm resolve as he speaks again.

"You'll be safe here," he says. “Alright?”

You purse your lips, thinking.  John almost holds his breath, waiting for your response.  Conflicting emotions swim in your eyes as you squeeze the metal on your neck. 

He pretends not to notice the tears pricking your eyes as you swallow heavily and nod.

“Yeah…yes,”  you choke out.  “Not like I have anywhere to go, anyway."

After that, things go smoother.  There were supposed to be more tests—more questioning, interviewing, and other supposedly mandatory things that would get everyone nowhere.  Instead, Price decides to bypass all of it with Laswell’s permission.  The walk to your room is silent, and he assures you, again, that nothing will happen to you here.  He apologizes profusely, but he’s not sure you truly hear any of it—simply nodding and thanking him before the door is shut, and the halls are quiet.

Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, slipping his hat off to run his hand back through his hair.  There’s paperwork he has to do, a briefing to attend to, and he still has yet to touch base with Soap and Ghost about what exactly happened earlier that day.  Despite it all, though—he feels somehow lighter.  Months of tracking down your father’s only family coming to a close now that you were found and safe.  Or, maybe, it was just because the dog tags were weighing him down.

Nevertheless, he barely spares himself a moment to recollect before his hat is placed back on his head, his expression is hardened again, and he finds himself walking back down the hallway—already itching for another cigar.

It was going to be a long fucking week.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai

[deesseshesca]

PAC :What are they gagging about u, again ?

Again… A fucking again. Nothing new, nothing changed. 

Good morning, pretty souls, today we are diving into the same mess people keep their mouth running regarding you. What’s the remix this time ? What have you done to upset the haters ? Like WTF do they want now ? 

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only 

GIVEAWAY

There’s one spot left for a free full audio reading

To participate: You must reblog, like and comment. 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

TW: PANIC ATTACK

Pile 1

Check in : y'all come from a rich abusive household. You are about to run away. Or some of y’all might actually just move. 

What’s the gag ? 

King pentacles 

People are yapping about you,  are  your classmates or close friends . Y’all come from an abundant family heritage and are living the dream some will never get to even grasp. Let’s not forget your amazing composure. You can get anything you want whenever you want. Probably walking around with an Amex card. Book a ticket overseas at least 4x a year. Whole education in private school even high profile nanny. If you  are black, u hear often … « you talk white … ». I fucking hate that statement because what is that supposed to mean 😑… LOSER . They think u must have a very traditional way of thinking. Especially if u are white, they think u lean more towards far right ideologies. And the fact that u call your parents « papa » or « mother » is not helping your case. 

What’s actually gagging ? 

8 swords

Y’all are going through it with your family. I don’t have any vision regarding what’s going on behind closed doors. But I see you pulling a big bright smile after closing the front door of your house. I see y’all acting literally like a robot. The second that your parents ask for something. You do it. No question or critical thinking involved. Y’all are literally suffocating in your household. This time no amount of money, clothes or first class trip is cutting it. 

Bonus💌333, The universe is advising you not to run way. They know you are an individual with good values and you hate acting out of character. But they are giving you the green light to act like a spoiled child and throw a fit. So you can get your own apartment and enjoy a semi independent lifestyle before blowing the big gun. They will hate to see struggle in the real world when u already been through hell in your own home.

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PILE 2 

Check in : You guys recently got a face piercing. People around u wondered if u are a sex worker. You come from a small town. Y’all have the perfect hourglass figure or peach. Anyway, your ass is fat. 

What’s the gag ? 

Judgment (reverse)

They feel like too many bad things happen to you. Everyone in town is in your business. Which is not surprising. Like nobody actually minds their motherfucking business ( I’m sorry … I hate when people are in people's business, especially mine . Since I’m a toddler my fav sport is to mind the thinking that pay me … is so annoying when I run around individuals that fucking don’t This is why I never over read in y’all energy even in a collective setting. Like c’mon). I’m sorry pile 2, y’all lost u’re high school sweetheart. Y'all got married but it all scrambles down. They feel like you need Jesus. They think u are bitter, old  and alcoholic women. You need to give your heart to God and turn your life around. 

What’s actually gagging ? 

Queen swords (reverse) 

They are partially right (and i oop-). Nah, I have to stay serious. This is a serious matter. You lost the only good thing in your life. I would be turning bitter myself 2. In that nasty old town, where people never let you be in peace. First because of your mom's reputation then because of your beauty. Out here making fun of u because u gain weight. Bitch people are at the gym killing themself to have your curves. Some are dying on the bed of doctor Miami… for what ? I sense that it is constantly like that. Since you’ve been young they made smart comments about you. When they realize, u only get prettier from there… game over. Now they are calling you fast. Then calling you old, they wish. Y’all are between 25-27 like… ok, yeah ok, pipe down bitch (meme reference). You are pondering on doing a 360 of your life right now. You spend all this time  trying to please people around you and acting according to people's expectations. Now you want to live in a rather carefree lifestyle. Moving to the big city, where nobody cares about you and nobody deem to care. You might want to be a stripper. Not because you are missing funds or don’t have an education. You just want to go wild for a bit. Seeing if you still got it.

 Bonus💌777, When you are ready to share your story that's when great success is going to find you. You might documente your grief on social media or give guideline for other to heal. Some may write a book to help individual going through the trials and tribulations of loosing their ultimate soulmate. Y'all other going to share all the secret tip and tricks of being a stripper.

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PILE 3

What’s the gag? 

King cups (reverse)

Y’all must be athletes. The people gagging  are your teammates. They finally saw you crack. Some were even questioned if you were a human being. Because you are always put on a straight face no matter what. I sense that you had a panic attack in front of them. That was the only time you showed emotion and it was this intense. 

What's actually the gaging ? 

Queen swords 

You’ve been carrying a deep sadness since childhood. You guys are extremely disciplined and private. Y’all also give amazing advice. They think you lost it but you actually lost your mind Because you never really had your emotions under control. You barely know how to cope. The only time that this insanity seems to leave you is when you are practicing your sport. You are actually pouring all you have to the only thing that gives you peace. They will never know that.

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[lilacsandstone]

making this its own post bc it ended up longer than i expected lol

a few months ago i made a post theorizing abt mumbo's lore for s10 and in retrospect the conclusion even based on ep 39 was pretty obvious However i still predicted it so yay

now onto some smaller theories ive been thinking abt since the lore drop:

i am a grumbot s10 truther. esp after all the lore in s9 with the empires crossover!! it might be a reach but i think ultimately the huge computer mumbo's building is going to be s10's version of grumbot

he hasn't kept his database updated but i'm wondering if when he built it he meant for it to connect to the computer? as like part of his memory

the main thing i'm getting tripped up on is why is there a chicken involved??? there's no way it's going to go fully according to plan, and iirc in the video he a few times describes the computer as housing his consciousness instead of a way to transfer it to something else. my gut feeling is he's going to upload his brain to the computer for the transfer, only to get stuck inside the computer. that or grian's going to get involved and complicate things lol

on the topic of grian. yes i think he's going to be part of this lore somehow. and totally not because i miss s7 and i'm delusional. the missing waffle from the start of the season just feels like a chekov's gun situation to me. like if he isn't involved in the lore AT ALL then why bother removing the waffle from the mc skin? he started aging as soon as it was gone. he had gotten it originally to replace his own soul. something happened that took grian's soul out of him, making him age rapidly/making him mortal. something is here and theres still pieces missing and its driving me crazy hgjfdg

im thinking about his starter base now too. incredibly convoluted, a home that is unreachable from the outside--you need to be (re)born into it. surrender your mortal possessions so they can be stored separately, giving yourself access to a previously locked door. meticulously end your own life to recreate a message that only you can understand. your consciousness is transferred to an enclosed, suspended space (a sort of cloud?). you can access your belongings for as long as you stay inside. mumbo's starter base wasn't separate from magic mountain row. it was the prototype.

and if you don't believe me about the bases being connected. while writing this i have picked up another piece of the puzzle. back in episode 3 of mumbo's s10, he mentions the comments were calling the mothball an impossible build structurally. do you remember what he did to make it "structurally sound?" CHICKENS. he put leads on chickens and tied the leads around fences on the support beam to look like tension cables.

so why did he abandon the mothball for this new computer? iirc, he started getting annoyed about having to remove his items each time, and not being able to access his stuff without dying each time first. there wasn't enough space in the mothball, and his items were getting stored outside instead. very inefficient. but most importantly: the structural chickens died. after that point, the mothball "fell".

so knowing that now, how is he planning on keeping this chicken alive once he puts his consciousness into it?

well! since grian is apparently the key to immortality, mumbo is putting his consciousness into poultry man.

(lmao jk for that last one could you imagine)

if you guys have any of ur own ideas/theories feel free to add onto this!! im so excited for him to reveal more of the story he's going for :D

[noforkingclue]

Hakxoicsjskd

As you can probably tell I am a sucker for vengeful, protective Thomas Shelby.

Like-yes, Thomas, kill for me, even if I don't want you to! Hold me close and rub my back and murmur in my ear that you're doing it for me, to protect me, it's all alright-don't watch, or maybe do, he'll keep me safe, just stay like that-they were trying to hurt you, don't you see that? They were going to hurt you, but I stopped them. You need me.

God, even if he was lying just a little-he really does want to protect you, you know, but on his terms, his ideals-it would be alright. Just let him hold you, your face to his chest as you hear the sound of a gun firing in yours ears and your head and your heart-

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course anon! I know exactly what you mean! I love a protective Tommy.

Title: For You

Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshititsfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone, @nataliewalker93

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

Your eyes were wide as you staggered back, terrified of the man in front of you. He sighed as he took carefully measured steps towards you. You winced as your back hit a brick wall but the man didn’t stop walking. A soft, consistent drizzle dampened your clothes and you wished you had the ability to walk through the wall blocking your escape. Finally, he stopped, so close you could feel the heat from his body. For a second neither of your spoke. You too terrified to get a word out and him, well, he was probably assessing the situation. Finally he said,

“You weren’t meant to see that.”

“R… really Tommy?” you said shakily, “Wasn’t I?”

Tommy lit a cigarette and looked away from you as he took a drag. When he looked back his face was stony and he offered the cigarette to you. You took it was shaking hands and took a deep drag.

“You killed him.” You said at last

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Why?”

Tommy sighed and took off his hat. He looked up at the sky, his hair quickly getting damp in the increasingly heavy drizzle, before he ran a hand over his face. You continued to glare at him as he put his cap back on, the shadow from the brim hiding his impossibly blue eyes from you.

“Thought that was obvious too, love.”

“Not to me.”

“They were using you to get to me.”

“Wh… what? To get to you.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t- why? I’m not anyone special.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Tommy took a step closer, fully trapping you against the wall. He raised a hand and brushed his knuckles against your cheek. You held your breath as he lower it and took the cigarette from your loosened grip. He took one last drag before his flicked it away. It hissed out when it hit the wet ground.

“You are special to me,” said Tommy quietly, “and I should’ve realised it sooner.”

He cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over your cheekbone. He pressed his lips against your forehead and you closed your eyes at the soft touch. Tommy wrapped his arms around you and pulled you roughly against his chest. His heart was beating steadily, a sharp comparison to your rapidly beating one.

“I did this for you,” he said softly, “to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

Tommy let out a humourless laugh and even as you said those words you knew them to be a lie. Being involved with the Shelby’s (in any way) was bound to bring danger to your life. You weren’t like the Shelby’s. You had never killed someone and yet, somehow, you found yourself dragged into their world.

“I never wanted it to be like this,” said Tommy softly, “I thought I could keep you safe without having to resort to violence.”

His grip on you tightened and you were powerless to escape his grip and part of you didn’t want to. Tommy had only killed those people in order to protect you. He was doing it with your best interest. As you relaxed against Tommy, with those thoughts swirling around your mind, you could almost forget the smell of gunpowder on him and the feeling of someone else’s blood seeping into your shirt.

Yes, Tommy had killed those people in order to protect you. He hadn’t wanted to kill them in front of you, that was never meant to be part of the plan, but with you in his arms he knew it was the right decision. It showed you that only he could protect you. You would be safe as long as you were with him.

[whumpsday]

some facts about the world of my kane & jim mermay special bc i can't stop thinking about this world

^ kane and his pilot fish at the aquarium

vampires:

in this world, the entire idea of a vampire is an aquatic creature. there are no land vampires, and if someone were to conceptualize one for fiction, they'd have to say it like that. land vampires...

vampires are more biological and less magical than the ones in the main series, but still a little magical.

vampires both eat meat (fish/seals/etc) and drink blood. they can drink most kinds of blood, but human blood is the most delicious, which is why kane went after jim.

vampires can live either solitarily or in groups/pods. if a pod gets too big to be sustainable, the smallest members will generally be kicked out.

vampires are usually around 10-15 feet, about the same as a great white shark. kane is on the smaller side at around 9 feet.

i know groups of sharks are called shivers, but groups of vampires are called pods because i like it :)

they have lots of spiky teeth!!! not just two fangs!

some vampires have their own languages. some have spoken language (mildly common), some have sign language (more common), some have both (uncommon), and some have neither or only a few signs/words (most common). it varies from pod to pod. they are extremely good language-learners, like human children, and can easily learn another pod's language if they find a mate they don't share one with. if a vampire pod does not use language and finds themselves in a situation where they need one, they will invent one as needed.

scientific name for the genus is Vampyroselakhos, took inspiration from the vampire squid. idk about species name

two of them. 😏

weaknesses:

vampires can die easier than k&j vamps but less easy than real fish. they can starve to death, though it takes a lot for that to happen, several months without food. they will heal most injuries (with scarring), but they can't regrow whole limbs and will die if things get super gory.

most vampires are highly allergic to wood, which can kill them if it gets in their bloodstream.

residing in deeper waters, vampires are very easily sunburned, but like a normal human sunburn. they also can't see well in daylight.

vampires can breathe air for short periods of time, but will start to asphyxiate if out of the water for more than about an hour. if left without breathable water for about 6 hours, they will die.

they are saltwater fish and cannot tolerate freshwater. being left in freshwater will make their cells start to rupture (this is true of irl saltwater fish). they can survive this for small periods of time but not sustainably.

vampire/human relations:

vampires are known to be sapient beings, but also vicious predators who will actively take humans from beaches and boats and usually kill them--far more dangerous than actual sharks! despite the sapience, they are legally considered animals, not people, in the vast majority of the world.

vampires have some protections. they're protected from abuse/inhumane treatment under animal abuse laws, and it's illegal to keep a vampire in captivity without proper clearance, due to both the safety risk they pose and the wellbeing of the vampire. what the fishers did to kane was super illegal!

clearance to keep a vampire captive usually involves the vampire consenting to it, unless the vampire is an orphaned baby.

hunting vampires is illegal, though most people who encounter them did not go looking on purpose.

due to the safety risk they pose, it is legal to kill wild vampires on sight as long as long as you don't go purposely hunting for them. like polar bears, if you see a wild vampire approaching, you're pretty much already dead unless you have a gun. unlike polar bears, vampires are not an endangered or threatened species.

it is illegal to sell vampires, dead or alive, including vampire body parts or teeth. it is, however, legal to eat them if you kill one yourself under legal circumstances, and they taste quite good. (though it's vampires eating humans more often than the other way around.) there is a black market for vampires, generally dead.

kane:

kane was kicked out of his pod for being too small :(

kane's pod did not use much language. he learned his first from jim, the fishers, and the aquarium staff. his pod did have spoken names.

his time in the fishers' tiny, cramped tank left him with physical issues that prevented him from swimming normally for months. he needed physical therapy surgeries for broken bones, and general medical care. this was extremely terrifying for him, but everyone did their best to help keep him feeling calm and safe. and pain meds work on vampires in this AU which is nice for him :)

when kane was first brought to the aquarium, he was kept in a smaller (but still very much healthy-sized) tank in the medical area. honestly probably one of the largest tanks they have in the medical area. after his more urgent injuries were healed, he was offered the option of staying there where it's private, or being moved into a VERY large tank in the public viewing area. he chose the latter, having extreme claustrophobia.

he was extremely scared of all the aquarium staff at first and needed to be gently coaxed whenever they needed to do medical checkups. however, kane was won over easily with food and pain medication.

after kane is healed and completes physical therapy, the vet tells him he's free to go back to the ocean. he declines, opting to stay at the aquarium.

they end up getting him a Therapist therapist, for his mental health, as well. kane doesn't really "get it".

as kane's time at the aquarium goes on, he becomes more comfortable around humans. he's an incredibly popular attraction, and he starts to relish in the positive attention from aquarium guests. he does spins in the water and takes pride in the amazed looks he gets for something so simple as being himself. he gets REALLY into it.

he does a lil educational program with bellamy where people can ask them questions about vampires (kane has the lived experience, bellamy has the more scientific/biological answers)

kane's tank at the aquarium doesn't have much in the way of other living animals at first, given kane could (and would) eat them. however, he has a lot of nice plants. after he's built up some trust with the staff and done some work on his food insecurity, they add some pilot fish in with him. kane considers them his beloved pets.

human characters:

jim was rescued by cave-divers who discovered him while kane was away. he was near-dead from infection.

bellamy's family owns some terrible exploitative unethical seaworld-type mega-aquarium. bellamy defiantly left for an ethically-run/normal smaller aquarium

bellamy's coworkers tease him about having a crush on a fish (in a lighthearted friendly way)

not sure yet what i want liz's deal to be in this au

i get all my knowledge of how aquariums function from 1. finding dory and 2. aquatope on white sand, so don't be mad at me if i got stuff wrong <3 blame the media

[fangirlirl]

Devil in Disguise

Chapter: 4/8

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

Rating: blooooddyyyy and a little explicit

The rifle was in place, now he waits.

“Welcome back to Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Appreciate the warm welcome” Frank didn’t flinch or move away from his set up. The other man stepped closer and leaned on the wall next to him.

“Are we really going to go through this?” The man in the red suit stepped towards Frank. “Stop or I’ll just have to break your toys.” Frank stood up to face the man as he kicked the gun off balance.

“I don’t really care for your holier than thou bullshit, Red. I’m busy.” A punch straight to the devil’s gut. It forced him to retreat, with enough space between them, he gasped for air. Frank picked up his rifle, started to set it up again when the red suited man kicked him off balance. “Stop being annoying, Red.” He stood up and marched towards him.

“Let me help you. It’s a win-win.” Red tried to negotiate. “I know who you’re after.”

Frank had grabbed his throat at this point. “This isn’t your fight.” The man in red sighed and with little effort removed himself from the hold, he sat down and removed his mask. Frank didn’t react, he knew this was to elicit sympathy and he wasn’t buying it, he had assumed as much to his identity. “Seems like you’ve got your own secrets.”

He thought he could do some good just by being there but regardless he wasn’t going anywhere else for now. Frank backed off but didn’t readjust his weapon, it was probably best to get their little quarrel out of the way first. He stood next to the man, making sure to keep and eye on his mission.

“Tell me something Frank.”

“You’re getting too sappy on me, red.” Matt responded with a laugh. “I told you not to get involved.”

“Why?” Frank couldn’t reply, he wanted to tell him it was because he cared, because the secrets run too deep, because he was working with dangerous people, he didn’t want Matt to get killed, or worse hate him.

“This is just the start. You don’t want blood on your hands.”

“This is my city, Frank.” He stood up and leaned on the wall next to Frank. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s a dangerous man who wants your head on a silver plate.”

“Him and every dangerous man in the city.” He waited hoping he’d get more answers. “So, what’s so special about this one.” It was true and Frank couldn’t hide behind his concerns after accepting it.

“Nothing. You can handle yourself.” Omissions and half truths. He turned away from Matt, hoping he would disappear into the night.

“Frank.” He was starting to love hearing his name in his voice. He felt Matt’s hand on his arm, he turned to face him and pushed him back against the block containing the stairs. It wasn’t aggressive, it was a desperate attempt to push him away but the result was the opposite. He was too close for comfort. Matt held onto him, holding onto his wrist and reaching for his hand. He bought the fist up to his face and pressed a gently kiss in the strained knuckles. Frank hated this, the affect Matt had on people. The affect he had on him, that saintly air he wore like a charm. He leaned forward resting their foreheads together, Frank placed a hand on his back and brushed his fingers over Matt’s face. “Kiss me.” Frank didn’t hesitate. Their lips were together, Matt leaned forward pushing away from the wall. Shoving him back again the small wall.

“Stop.” Frank requested half heartedly, this was bad timing and they were in no position to be distracted. Matt didn’t listen, instead he pushed himself against him. Holding onto Frank’s face and desperately kissing him. Frank found the hidden zip on his suit, behind his nape. He tugged it down until it reached the others lower back, his finger tips tracing over the exposed skin. He leaned forward until his face was merely an inch from Matt’s. He wanted to be ok with their situation, to be ok with finding some comfort even if was with someone he would never agree with.

He slipped his hand further into the suit, resting it when it would be discomforting to move it further. He kissed him, held him close, wanted to give him more.

Matt pulled away abruptly “Someone’s here” Frank stopped, zipping up Matt’s suit and reaching for his handgun preparing to deal with whoever interrupted them. Matt reached for his mask and prepared to fight.

Three men came through the door, aimlessly shooting across the roof. Matt jumped at one of them from behind knocking him out cold. Frank launched at the them with an adrenaline frenzy, shooting two without a second thought. Using the gun of the man he had just shot down, he released another round at the unconscious man being handled by Red. He faintly heard his name being yelled, it got louder the second time. He missed the shot, impossible. Matt knocked the gun out of his hand, that made sense.

“Why do I keep hoping you’d change.” He took it personally. There was no time, Matt heard something from a few roofs over. It was coming directly at them. “GET DOWN” he threw himself over Frank, covering him from the bullet which ended up in the wall which they were standing in front of a second ago.

“They got a cheap sniper for me, that’s insulting.” Frank leaned up in the time the sniper reloaded, he saw his location. He was barely a 100 yards. A single shot to the head, he saw him fall back. “The Russians are a cover, shit!”

“Cover for what!?” He was still cowering below the hight of the wall. “Frank, who was that?!.”

“They’re after you, Red.” There was anger in his voice, more than usual. “Fuck. I lead them straight to you.”

Matt searched for anyone else who could might harm them. “That was all of them.”

“That was a shit attempt. No, bait. They’re going to try again.”

“Hey, let’s get out of here for now. You’re bleeding.” Frank didn’t feel the graze, it was a deep wound bleeding all over the ground.

“It’s just a scratch”

Matt scoffed at the comment. “Nothing can hurt the big bad punisher.”

“My place isn’t far.” It wasn’t an invitation. He got up and placed the equipment into the bag with the arm that functioned and marched away. Matt followed him despite not being wanted. “Go home red.” He ignored the demand and helped him.

They got to Frank’s flat, “Do you have a first aid kit?” Matt wandered around to the kitchen. Frank had settled down and got a cloth to keep pressure on the wound now that he finally had a second.

“I have it here.” He took the box out from under the bed, finding the needle and thread managing to put it through.

“Let me.” Matt sat in front of him and took the needle from his fingers. Frank raised his brows not entirely sure how to respond to a blind man offering to stitch up his wounds.

“I trust you red, but I’m not exactly sure about this.” Matt was tracing his fingers over Franks, moving them over his arm to get to the wound. He smiled up at Frank at the remark.

“I’ve had some practice, have a little faith.”