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this-game-has-themes · 3 months ago

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Three years onward, Howler should have no reason to go back to what has been built up around the Monsaic Lines. There should be nothing left for her there, but that's where He is, and how he treats her unlike anyone else has left her wanting.

[NSFW for complex genderplay alien sex]

“If this is how you treat a queen, I’d hate to see how you treat a lady - ow!” Howler snarled, but couldn’t do much more than flinch away from the speartips that urged her forward.

There was something uniquely humiliating about getting shown up by the naturalists and natives that had taken to the Monsaics in the south. Howler, admittedly, had gotten a little too used to her guns and grimy, repurposed technology. When she got jumped she expected a firefight; either raiders or sligs, both of which were increasingly sparse the closer you got to the Monsaic Lines.

It felt like a deliberate walk of shame, being marched up from her holding cell in the scrub quarter and towards the older, more traditional architecture that made up the settlement. Howler remembered when it was a ghost town; the remains of whoever had last taken up stewardship of the temples, with only a few strays still holding onto it by the time the revolution had set up shop.

While the parts of the settlement the Followers took up had been somewhat modernized to adapt to both contemporary comforts and population density, the dwellings of the natives were virtually untouched. Relics of an age that its own people were rapidly outgrowing. Even if Howler had been hatched in a place like this, the snide, cynical part of her questioned if it was worth keeping up with the nostalgia at all.

If she had to abandon her ways, a small part of her wished everyone else would follow suit.

She still recognized the aesthetic markers of a medicinemud’s hut, the next best thing a village had to leadership without a proper Queen. She remembered the maskholder she met there back in the day, and she was not looking forward to a reunion. All that jackshit nonsense about broken prophecy and wasted potential left a sour taste in her mouth, as if the universe had accumulated all of its contempt for her to make one singular, smug old witch-mud to broadcast it through. Still, she would have preferred Bigface to Abe. As they approached, she was hoping more and more that this wasn’t going to be Abe.

One of the spearmuds that escorted her pulled back the thick curtain that covered the doorway, and another poked her until she ducked inside. A familiar, smoky atmosphere hit her nostrils. Incense that took her back to times she was better off forgetting, leaving her with the same gnawing homesickness that hit her like a brick the first time she stepped into the hut.

That homesickness plummeted into the pit of her stomach when she saw who they were bringing her to. Howler squared her shoulders, and straightened out of the defensive hunch the spears had backed her into. She couldn’t make it seem like they were a threat, not around him.

He kept his back to his visitor for a moment before finally acknowledging her. Like she was either not as important, or not as much of a threat for him to keep a wary eye on her. Like she would on him. His movements were sluggish, but not in that smugly relaxed, in-control way Howler played up around her gang. Howler probably knew better than anyone else that Abe was, genuinely, exhausted.

In the few years since they had last seen each other, they both had grown their feathers out. His made up a long, lush plume tied back as it always was; a far cry from the limp little topknot Howler remembered. Her own feathers were… less than impressive, but she still plucked, and it still showed in the patchy, uneven quality of her plumage.

He looked a little healthier, and that was admittedly reassuring to see. A lot of these liberated scrubstock were slowly growing out of the pitiful states slavery forced upon them. The wiry muscle of a laborer didn’t look so withered and sickly on him now; he was lanky still, but he had grown into this… ‘heroic’ air that Howler was sure he relied on for the optics. When he stood straighter than he used to, it pointed out that he was taller than she was, and she still didn’t like that. She didn’t want to be looked down on by him.

Most surprisingly, he was less depressively blue-tinted than he was when she left. He was still blue, yes, but healthier greens and purples were coming through the unhealthy coloration, showing on his uncovered limbs. His chest, the mark of the Shrykull, was covered. He had covered all of the brands that marked him by terrible purpose.

It made Howler feel… something, to see how much better off he seemed to be without her. But she still refused to make it seem like she was moved in any way by seeing him. She acknowledged him with feigned reluctance. “Abraham.”

Abe’s lips, still sewn, pursed as his calm expression fell. “Howler.”

The former scrub glanced at the spearmuds behind her, and waved them off dismissively. “You guys go on, I can handle her.”

The muds, former scrubs and probably previous RuptureFarms stock themselves, looked a little uncertain when they still regarded Howler with such caution. Still, they obeyed, and left the two of them alone.

Howler didn’t think she would get this far. She vaguely hoped that reuniting with him would have seen their current circumstances reversed. Abe turned his attention on her again, that same sullenness she had left him with the first time around still lingering behind his eyes.

“Alright, what are you doing here, Howler?” Abe asked her, already sounding exasperated.

“What, I can’t just visit sometimes? I left other people here besides you, you know.” Howler scoffed back.

“Well, I appreciate that you didn’t make a scene, or anything,” Abe ran a bandaged hand through his plumage. “But I don’t know what you were thinking, trying to sneak in here. It would have been less suspicious if you just showed up.”

“If I just showed up, I would have made you think I actually wanted to see you.”

“I would have gladly ignored you if you didn’t look like a threat.” Abe matched the ire in Howler’s tone, and they shared a similar annoyance in their expressions and body language. They stared each other down for a tense moment, until one of them had to break.

Howler huffed, coming out as static through her voice modulator. “Why do you think I came alone?”

Abe crossed his purple-mottled arms. “Because your ‘boys’ cause more of a scene than you do.”

“I got no reason to drag the whole gang with me when I’m just stopping by.” Howler stopped herself short of tugging at her feathers, that old compulsion to feel around her scalp to pluck never quite going away. “Look, I’m just… sorry I got caught. I got no beef with you, mud, just stop treatin’ me like a criminal and I’ll stop actin’ like one.”

“It goes a little deeper than that.” Abe looked unconvinced at the somber expression on her face, her downcast eyes looking distantly at the mat-covered ground. Silence fell between them again; awkward and tense, leaving a lingering feeling that both of them could be saying so much more. Howler felt like she was being very generous by not doing so.

Abe’s shoulders sagged, his posture drooping back into that more familiar scrub hunch. That heroic air flickered out like a busted light. He mulled over his words, and seemed very reluctant to say “Well, I don’t want to keep ya, or anything, but… I dunno. You wanna go over to the scrub quarter and get some tea?”

Howler practically did a double take, her eyes lighting up with something other than surprise. “Well, I was already headed in that direction, so… sure?”

There were still scorch marks on some of the metal panelling that made up the walls of the bar. The bits and pieces from the wreckage of RuptureFarms were still recognizable, no matter what sort of life they helped rebuild now. It was yet another point of contention between the natives and the freemuds: they brought the factory with them, in a sense.

Howler wondered if she would have been on the natives’ side of this ongoing tension, had she never been enslaved. Even if she held some lingering prejudice towards scrubsto- scrubkind, she still had more in common with them than the people she was taken from. She had to come to terms with that, but it helped to hold onto the friendships she had made in servitude. She was accustomed to being isolated from other correctives; here the freemuds knew her, they treated her like one of their own. Even after everything she did.

It made visiting them bittersweet, knowing she couldn't just stay. She couldn’t just settle. Much like Abe, she was bound by terrible purpose, and this revolution wasn’t going to run itself. She still had so much to do.

But right now, she can stop. She can sit down, and she can rest.

Even if having Abe in the room was making this extremely awkward. Alf wasn’t helping, immediately laughing when she stepped in, making it very apparent to Abe very fast that her visit was not, in fact, a one-time thing.

“Yeah, I dunno how you didn’t find out sooner. Howler’s been sneaking in here like, every couple of months.” The lanky mud shrugged bare, sunburnt shoulders. Howler was pointedly looking away from his barechestedness. Put those away.

Abe gawked at what Alf mentioned so offhandedly. He looked between his friend and his ex incredulously. “Seriously? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Well, I thought you knew, considerin’... you know.” As Alf sat down between them, he gestured to the former couple on either side of him. Howler looked uncharacteristically bashful.

“Already told you, I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

“I thought you would be miles away,” Abe admitted, “I thought you were in like, I dunno, Nolybab.”

Howler sipped from her cup. “We’re in the industrial wastes these days, mostly. Up around Feeco, harassing the supply lines. Hitting up those groundbound Vykker labs.”

Abe frowned. “Hmm, yeah I remember a few of those being pinned on me.”

“Well if you’re sittin’ on your ass playin’ mayor of shantytown over here, somebody’s gotta keep the pressure on the Glukks.” Howler shot him a look, from the several spaces they deliberately kept between them at the bar. “Somebody’s gotta keep bein’ a damn revolutionary.”

Abe practically flinched, hiding his discomfort with a drink. “Can we not… talk about the revolution, for once.”

“Not much else goin’ on to catch up about.”

Before that awkward silence could settle in, Alf piped up. “Now, that’s not true. All sorts a’ stuff’s been happenin’ on our end. A whole pack of former Bonewerkz guys split off and set up shop where they sealed off the mines.”

Howler nodded. “Yeah, who’d ya think helped ‘em clear out the rest of the sligs and score supplies?”

“Oh, that was you? Bang on.”

Beside Alf, Abe stirred uncomfortably. Howler, unfortunately, noticed.

“A lotta muds are returning to the factories, I’ve noticed,” she said, “not to work, but to live. Gutting the places and making them homes. Reclaiming the shit they made us build in the first place.”

She shrugged, feigning casualness. “Makes sense, in my opinion. Not a lotta muds yearning to ‘return to nature’.”

Abe sighed quietly, staring at the cup in his hands. “Yeah, I know.”

“Means me n’ my own are never out of a job. Always gotta keep beating back cartel thugs trying to take back their turf. Union Busters, we’ve been callin’ them. The fucks that think they own these places because they put us to work there in the first place.”

Howler could have sworn that Abe’s eyes briefly flicked over to her at the mention of us. She revelled in entertaining the idea that she was twisting the knife. “...Yeah, things’ve been goin’ real well on my end, I’d say. What about you, Abe?”

She smiled innocently at the look he gave her.

“Well…” Abe began, only to trail off awkwardly into silence. He looked up to see the other two staring at him, and he faltered.

“It’s been tough, keepin’ everyone together. A lot of muds really are going back to the factories. And the tribes, well, they say they belong there.” Abe kept his eyes on the tea still left in his mug, scarred fingers tracing the rim pensively. “I don’t believe that’s true. I don’t want us to be divided, that’s what the Glukkons want in the first place.”

“Ain’t our fault,” Howler’s voice crackled low through her modulator, “the natives are the ones dividing us. Tellin’ muds to leave their whole lives behind just for the privilege of shittin’ in the woods. I don’t blame the reclaimers.”

Abe seemed noticeably annoyed with each continued use of ‘us’ and ‘our’. His expression soured more and more until finally, he remarked: “I don’t think you get to call yourself a scrub after just three months in the factory.”

Howler matched that tone, and then some. “I don’t think you get to call yourself native for just bein’ their schmuck.”

“I never called myself one of them.”

Between them, Alf looked increasingly aware of the metaphorical and literal role he was playing, keeping them both at arm’s length. He had been dodging the looks the estranged couple had been shooting each other this entire time, but he was rooted to the spot. He was, unfortunately, quite aware of what could happen when they’re left alone.

The repurposed door at the back of the bar opening was an opportunity he took immediately. The squeak of its rusted hinges stopped the halted argument, and the mud that walked out made Howler swallow whatever cruel words she had lined up.

Alf made a show of stretching and pretending to yawn as he got to his feet. “Weeell, ‘s been nice catchin’ up with ya, Howler, but I got another uh, group therapy sesh lined up back at the fire pit. Better get ready.” As he left conspicuously quickly, Abe shot him a pleading look that he didn’t quite catch.

Howler remained silent as Alf paused at the door, and leaned in close to whisper something into the ear of a smaller, hunched over mud. She wasn’t privy to what was said, but the grimace it brought to his weathered face told her enough.

Lenny didn’t look terribly happy to be placed in between the former couple, but seeing Howler stare fixedly at him made his expression soften. He took Alf’s previous seat, and maintained the distance between them as he gave the guest a mock admonishing look. “Who let your ass through the gate?”

“Didn’t use the gate.” Howler happily pointed out, her mood shifting immediately.

Abe watched the two share a one armed hug that lingered slightly too long. Enough that Howler’s eyes fluttered closed, smelling the ever-present odor of lungbuster smoke on the older mud’s neck.

Lenny regarded Abe with a much more restrained, neutral nod of acknowledgment. It felt like a slight, with how on edge Howler had already made him. Somehow it didn’t help that their argument had all but been forgotten in an instant, and Howler’s sole attention was on the underwhelming little mud who still wore civilian clothes.

“Hope I’m not, ah, interrupting anything.” Lenny snuck a look out of the corner of his eye towards Howler, who shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Certainly not every day I see you two in the same room.”

For good reason, Abe almost said. But he refrained. “Howler tripped the alarms, they took her to me because they didn’t know what else to do with her.”

“Yeah, thought as much.” Lenny gave Howler that look again. Sly and knowing, privy to something Abe clearly wasn’t. It shouldn’t have made his stomach turn when he realized this was the friend she was sneaking around just to see.

But, she didn’t need to sneak around. Not around him, at least.

Unless…

“Yeah, I ain’t built for stealth, if ya haven't noticed.” Howler unsubtly flexed her thick arms. She gained back the weight that factory life had taken from her, but her new life as a rebel had hardened her; bringing out the muscle that lay underneath the softness Abe remembered.

Lenny snuck a glance towards her muscles, and hid a small smile. “Hmm. You better be behavin’ yourself out there, stu- mud.” He corrected himself, just in time.

“Oh, you know how it is.” Howler was brazen in how her body language changed, relaxed and languid on her barstool. She turned towards Lenny with her broad thighs spread, leaning against the counter to rest her cheek in her hand, all to keep her attention on him. “Keepin’ the cartel off your backs means bustin’ a few heads and blowin’ up a few important buildings.”

Lenny’s posture had similarly relaxed, though in the more restrained way Abe was accustomed to seeing with him. “Your boys stayin’ out of trouble?”

Howler laughed softly. A subtle yellow-orange tinge rose in her cheeks. Abe looked away quickly, and he couldn’t hear her answer through the sound of his pulse thumping in his ears.

He remembered when she flirted with other muds, but it wasn’t like… this. Was it flirting? With him? His brother’s boyfriend? This was low, even for her.

It was surely the taboo of it that struck him so hard, so fast.

“I- I should… probably get going.” Abe slid off his barstool, and found himself uneasy on his feet. Once he got that far, he found himself freezing under the gaze of the two muds. He quickly added, “it’s getting late and I need to get my meditation in.”

Lenny raised a withered eyebrow, but ultimately shrugged him off. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Howler regarded him with a cool, characteristically smug look. “Abraham.”

Abe stopped himself short of replying, remembering that unlike her, he didn’t know Howler’s ‘real’ name. As he rushed to leave, he slammed the door closed a little too quickly.

The echo of it rang in Howler’s ears for a moment before fading into silence. After a beat, she flinched when Lenny swatted her on the arm. “The hell is your problem,” he hissed, “makin’ eyes at me like that in broad daylight - in front of him.”

“You were doing it too.” Howler countered, and from the scowl he gave her she knew she was at least partly right.

Lenny glanced back at the door, a look of concern dawning on his face. It was a concern Howler didn’t share, nudging him to draw his attention back to her. “Oh, c‘mon. He won’t say anything. What’s he gonna do, huh? I’m not with him anymore.”

“I’m with someone.” The older mud shut her down with a grave seriousness in his voice. It lasted for but a moment, when Howler held up a finger.

“You might be tied down, but Lola aint.”

Lenny sighed, closed his eyes, and carefully stretched out against the perpetual hunch of his ailing back.

“... You’re a real piece of work, boy.”

Howler grinned. There was a familiar twinge of excitement from the way he referred to her so sincerely, so casually. A surge of confidence rushed to her head, and it made her straighten out her posture and square her shoulders, accentuating their difference in size.

“You wanna get outta here, already?”

It was increasingly harder to find quiet places to fool around in, as the village became more of a town over the course of the liberation. The home they made for themselves here was bustling into the late hours of the night, lit up like a beacon from a mix of electric lights and torches.

It was heartening to come back, and see the Monsaics changing a little bit more every time. The dwellings being built up, the beginnings of proper infrastructure being developed. Howler had to hand it to them, she was impressed with how far they had come within a few years. She didn’t have high hopes for them in the beginning, and this time it was good to be proven wrong.

Eventually, they ran out of village and started walking into the jungle. The trail was well worn at this point, because the cliffside they were headed towards was a fairly popular spot; be it for moongazing, or making out, or gloating.

Howler was often doing the latter. In the moonlight, the remnants of RuptureFarms was a dark, broken silhouette on the wasteland horizon spread out before them. While Molluck’s wretched factory decayed like a corpse, the Monsaic Lines had flourished. Mudokons had flourished.

“Never gets old, does it?” Howler’s tone softened with reverence. “I mean. You see a lot of wrecked factories nowadays, but… nothin’ comes close to the original, don’t it.”

Lenny spoke around the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Yer damn right.”

“Could’ve done the same to Feeco if that wouldn’t fuck us over too.”

“Nah… the rails are in good hands, now.” Howler watched fixedly the slow, lazy movements of Lenny’s hand taking the lungbuster between his fingers, and flicking off the excess ash. “What ones the Magog haven’t tried to blow up.”

“Mmn.” Something caught Howler’s eye over the horizon. She squinted, and could just barely make out a thin, gray plume of smoke rising into the night sky. “... Huh. There’s someone over there.”

“Yeah,” Lenny barely acknowledged it with the same concern she did. “Some of the 300 split off a while back, they went back over there to reclaim what’s left of it.”

It wasn’t too surprising, but just enough that it raised Howler’s eyebrows. “Damn, there’s even RuptureFarms boys fuckin’ off now? Thought those guys were ride or die for Abe.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ride or die for Abe. If I’m bein’ honest.” Lenny scoffed under his breath. He took another drag, and Howler’s mouth watered as she watched his lips. The conversation suddenly wasn’t important anymore.

Howler leaned in close before asking, “can I take a hit”, and Lenny sucked in another lungful of smoke that he held, then shotgunned into her open mouth. Their lips met. Nicotine and something else, something indescribable made her head swim.

The kiss deepened. He tasted like a fucking ashtray, but at this point the taste was irrevocably linked to excitement and arousal for her. A synthetic moan crackled from her voicebox. Coaxing the sound out of her made him chuckle against her mouth.

When Lenny finally pulled away, Howler felt lightheaded. She felt powerful. She felt…

“Handsome,” the old mud purred, “are we still shootin’ the shit, or are we doin’ this?”

It took a moment for the gears to start turning in Howler’s head again. When they did, she quickly scrambled to fumble with her belt.

Lenny assisted with pulling her ratty jeans over her hips, leaving them bunched up around her knees. It was good enough, for now. He wasted no time getting into it.

There was a broad and exhilarated grin on Howler’s face long before she felt his mouth on her. It hit her immediately; the tongue dipping into the slit of her cloaca, stopping to tease the sensitive nub of flesh at the bottom until it emerged into the open air.

Her dick didn’t even do that before fooling around with these two. She let out a breathy laugh. Pleasure shocked through her like an electric current.

She loved Abe, once. She really did. But even then, she kept going back to her. And eventually, it led to her going back to him; that’s when she realized that maybe this was more than just some one-off, quick n’ dirty fling to make up for bad sex. It wasn’t just Lola’s charms pulling her in, it was also that soft touch that belonged to Lenny. Equally starved, equally deprived of true affection. Similarly hurt, similarly used, he extended an understanding to her that she could reciprocate on her own terms.

Intimacy was one thing. So was love. But they both wanted to fuck, and they wanted to revel in it. After a miserable lifetime of sex being a tool, a survival tactic, sex could finally just be for fun. It was just a shame that she couldn’t have fun like this with Abe. Their separation was a relief, in this sense. Even if Howler felt… less guilty than she probably should have.

Howler shuddered fitfully, overstimulated from the attention Lenny lavished on her cock. Her cock - a distinction that only Lenny and Lola made. Howler wasn’t a queen around them, and she didn’t even have to ask. They just knew.

It felt incredible, feeling Known. Even if she wasn’t sure exactly what they were acknowledging within her when they called her handsome, or a stud, or a man. But it was exciting. It made her feel young, it made her feel new. It made her feel like herself, whoever that was.

“You still with me, big guy?” Lenny paused to ask. Howler had thrown her head back, eyes closed with her face a mask of overwhelmed ecstasy. She replied by pushing him back down, which he responded to with a muffled moan against her slit.

Lenny was the one who preferred men, but he didn’t handle her like he did. Then again, he was consistent with referring to her as a man, so who was to say if she went against his usual tastes or not. He only called her a queen once, and that was to emphasize his own infatuation with her. She was beautiful, she was powerful, he wanted to be her.

So, Howler extended that unique kindness he gave to her. He was her woman, her pretty girl; even if it risked making Lola jealous. Howler couldn’t possibly fathom whatever situation the two of them had going on, but that in itself had become part of the fun. Lola was allowed to fuck around, because that was simply what she did. Getting to use that as an excuse to keep seeing Lenny was just a bonus.

Would Alf find out eventually? Probably. Could Howler spin his attraction to her into leveraging his acceptance of it? She was prepared to do that. She was willing to do a lot of stupid things for Lenny, especially right now, in this moment.

A cute girl like him sucking her cock made her feel on top of the world. Arousal ached through her, radiating from the very core of her and making her extremities feel numb. As she climbed that peak, she encouraged him by holding him firmly in place; grabbing him by his feathers hard enough to draw a debauched groan out of him. He was getting sloppier, more desperate to finish her off himself. At some point, he had snuck a hand down his own trousers, his narrow hips bucking periodically.

Howler imagined he was fingering himself then, and that was all it took to push her over the edge. Her body tensed against the jerky spasms her orgasm drew out of her. Lenny lapped at her cloaca hungrily, savoring that taste.

When her dick stopped twitching, and she could finally see past the stars in her vision, Howler finally asked him, “you need a hand there, princess?”

Lenny blushed deeply, suddenly bashful when he wasn’t being preoccupied with her body. He pulled down his own pants, just enough for his own erection to pop out. A good size, for a scrub, but that was hardly the most intriguing part of it. His oviduct - his pussy - had been fucked open into a permanent gape; something Howler was used to seeing done to a worker mud surgically. He coaxed his cunt open himself. Or, initially, Lola did, in her dedication towards being a slut.

Howler sluggishly repositioned herself before the kneeling scrub. It was easy to manhandle him, as petite as he was; guiding him into a position similar to what he had her in, spreading his narrow legs to get to what she so desperately wanted in her mouth.

Her lips closed around the base of his cloaca. She swirled her tongue around the hole he made for himself, and Howler felt Lenny thread his fingers into her feathers.

“S-such a good boy,” the scrub mumbled encouragingly, “that’s it, keep going like that.”

Howler whined around a full mouth. She was only recently coming to terms with the fact that she would do unspeakable things to be called a good boy.

“Yer so handsome.” Fingertips found their way to Howler’s scalp, and scratched her in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “I can’t believe he fumbled a guy like you.”

Howler snorted at that, and had to pull back to catch her breath. She made up for the absence of her mouth by teasing her fingertip around the entrance of his cunt. Lenny grabbed her wrist to keep her there, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Please.”

A shit eating grin spread across Howler’s flushed face. “Please what?”

Lenny put considerable effort into maintaining a straight face. “Please, sir.”

That felt fucking awesome.

Howler was never going to think hard about why it did.

She had no time, for one. No time, no… resources; no real language to put these feelings into words, save what little bit she picked up from Lenny and Lola. Lenny was as lost as she was, similarly but diametrically confused and exhilarated at the concept of being something - someone - else. Howler wasn’t about to make a ‘Lola’ of her own, though; and that was probably for the best. It seemed like a lot of… maintenance.

Right now, it just felt good. And feeling good used to be a myth.

With some angling of her hand, Howler could fit a little over half a finger into Lenny’s oviduct before hitting a dead end. The analog to her queenly anatomy was partially sealed for a worker, and it was frankly impressive Lenny managed to get his that loose on his own.

He moaned like a girl, like a whore, as she fucked him just a little more open. Testing the limits of his anatomy, pushing in deeper until he clenched and whimpered pathetically. The cock portion of his cloaca dripped a steady flow of translucent fluids. He was completely sterile, thank odd, but his orgasms weren’t dry like most workers. Considering his libido, it wasn’t surprising. It was a miracle he hadn’t droned out by now, but maybe there was something to be said about his preferences. If he liked women, maybe it would have been different.

Good thing Howler wasn’t a woman right now.

Lenny tightened around her finger, and she wiggled it with a little more fervor until he gasped; hips jerking as his stretched-out hole spasmed over, and over again. Impotent, watery cum dribbled out of his cock. Howler looked up to see him covering his deeply orange-flushed face with both hands.

“Ffffuck, mud.” He eventually breathed. His posture relaxed from the tension of his climax.

There had never been an encounter between them that didn’t leave them satisfied. Howler felt spoiled during that brief window of their freedom before she had to leave, where getting to see each other every day was a new and exciting experience. Being free was a new and exciting experience; being themselves even moreso.

Howler really did wonder if she could have played her cards right, sometimes. Cut her losses with Abe earlier, swooped in before Alf could, carried her girl off into the sunset. But… things played out the way they did for a good reason. That reason being the gang.

Lenny would have probably been miserable, trying to keep up with her life with the Rebel Defects. But he was sympathetic to their cause in a way he could only mention in hushed tones, almost more taboo than their affair in the town that Abe more or less built for them.

They held one another in the afterglow of it all, the Mudokon Moon hanging over them like a dim lantern. The old scrub felt tiny in Howler’s arms, and that in turn contributed to the euphoria of being seen as something other than a queen.

Fleeting as it would be, this moment was worth all the trouble to get to it.

Time passed. Howler nearly fell asleep. Lenny stirred against her, and yawned.

“Should probably be headin’ back.”

“Yeah,” Howler agreed, reluctantly. “I need to get goin’.”

“Y’sure? It’s late; you can crash on the couch and head out in the morning if ya want.”

Tempting as it was just to stay longer… “Nah, I told Drill I’d only be a few hours. If I pull an all-nighter he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

They untangled themselves from each other, straightening out their clothes and trying to make themselves look a little less like they just fucked in the woods. They kept their eyes averted, not out of shame so much as it was to keep themselves from changing their minds. Howler bent down to steal a final, melancholy kiss.

“Don’t be a stranger,” was all that Lenny mumbled, and that was that. He had disappeared into the brush before Howler knew it. Leaving her alone, wondering if feeling like it was all a dream was normal.

It was going to be a long fuckin’ walk of shame back to camp, and Howler had to try and get there before it was tomorrow.

#howlerposting #my fanfiction #oddworld oc #this is the no.1 homewrecker ship btw

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scribeofwinchesters · 1 year ago

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Secrets and Lies: Chapter 11 - Rope

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4,660

Summary: “You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming."

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters:

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten

A/N: Definitely recommend catching up or re-reading before this chapter since we have some callbacks to chapter 1 here. Thank you all for showing me so much support after being gone for so long <3 This might be my personal favorite chapter yet :) Most of it's been written for years but had lots of rewrites and edits as I worked through it and came back to it again and again during my hiatus, so if there's anything that doesn't connect or track, please DM me so I can fix it! I've reread it like eight times, though, so I think we're good... I hope you all like it and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are very welcome <3 as always, link to AO3 if you prefer.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa

You yanked hard on the door and sure enough, the door drug across the jamb and you had to give it a second hard pull to get it fully open. As soon as it was free Dean was right there, gun pointed ahead of him as he let his eyes adjust before quickly clearing the area to the left and the right. Just as planned you were directly behind him, gripping your gun but keeping it pointed safely toward the ground.

The interior was completely dark except for rows and columns of sporadically blinking green and orange lights to the left. As Dean stepped in, you followed, remaining so close to him that you could literally feel your breath warming his neck. Dean should’ve known better than to exaggerate when telling you to do something that you didn’t want to do. He took another careful step inside and reached along the wall for a light switch.

As he did, there was suddenly a soft tumble of footsteps and Dean deftly reached behind him to grip your arm and pull you along with him as he ducked to the right, pressing you safely between him and the wall.

The shadowy form of a person was visible somewhere ahead of Dean, outlined by the blinking lights. It was wielding some kind of weapon that you couldn't make out in the darkness until it glinted in the light and you could see the flash of a long, sharp point. The figure darted into the darkness and from somewhere across the room you heard a deep, stifled scream.

Dean gripped his gun with both hands and aimed it at each corner of the room, hoping to catch sight of some kind of movement.

You shifted your handgun to one hand and silently pulled your silver blade from its holster and gripped it tightly. You scrapped it along the wall, using it’s extra length to find your mark. After a short moment it caught on the switch and the room was flooded with a dull, fluorescent haze; the bulbs flickered and buzzed faintly before steadying on.

Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, you narrowed your eyes and squinted as they adjusted.

You peeked around Dean as you sheathed your blade. Your stomach dropped.

There, in the middle of the room, was Sam. He was tied up in a chair, ropes tight around his wrists and ankles and mouth. He’d been stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks and there was blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Sam had a black eye and a horrific mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a handful of cuts and gashes across his chest. He caught sight of you and your eyes locked together. The marble pinged against your insides again as you saw Sam’s bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Your heart caught in your throat and you could feel yourself forgetting to breathe.

Sam glanced to his left, drawing your eyes away from him.

You froze.

Standing in the dark corner, just a few steps away from Sam, was the last thing you expected to see...

It was...

you?

Not current you... but clean, moisturized, fresh-faced, hair-brushed-and-styled-with-the-perfect-flounce-you-could-never-quite-achieve-despite-many-frustrating-hours-spent-fussing-over-it… you.

It was fully dressed in clothes that looked like something you’d wear if you had time to put thought into your outfits, and to top it off, she was wearing Sam’s wellworn green jacket and a blue flannel and something about that made your stomach churn. It held a long, jagged blade comfortably in it’s outstretched arm as it grinned and you pulled yourself back behind Dean as you tried to catch your breath.

“ ‘Bout time you guys joined the party,” it said cheerfully and took a careful step toward Sam. It was bizarre hearing your voice come from another person… thing… it.

“That’s close enough,” Dean warned as he pointed his gun at the shifter.

“Oh, Dean,” it said as it suddenly dropped and rolled skillfully behind Sam. Dean fired his gun at the movement but missed the target, leaving a small smoking circle in the machinery. You jerked at the sudden sound and took a moment before taking in a deep, stabalizing breath.

“Come on, after the last few days, Dean, stuck at home with… me,” it smirked as it slowly crouched over Sam and held the jagged blade to Sam’s throat. “The sad, pathetic thing you rescued from purgatory,” she mocked with an exaggerated pout. “Listening to her whining, holding her as she cried, falling asleep on the couch as you held her… we both know you were dying to put a bullet in both of your heads just to get the pathetic misery to end.”

You studied the back of Dean’s head, imagining the furious expression flashing across his face.

The shifter pulled the edge of it’s blade through Sam’s sweat-slicked hair, causing the tip to graze against his check and scalp, just light enough to not break the skin. Sam flinched reflexivly and squeezed his eyes shut. The shifter sneered at Dean for a moment before catching your eyes as you peaked over Dean’s shoulder.

It smiled and narrowed its eyes at you as it licked it’s tongue across it’s teeth. “Looking a little rough there, sister. My brother got a few good hits in at least. Tell me, how far did he get before you noticed? One finger? Two? Balls deep?” It laughed.

“Stop it,” Dean seethed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the shifter sneered as it pressed the blade ever so slightly against Sam’s throat, drawing beads of blood to the surface. Sam winced and you felt the rage building inside of you. It took every ounce of control you had to stay put.

You locked eyes with Sam as tears spilled from his wide, horror-filled eyes. The throbbing ache in your cheek was a painful reminder of earlier that night and you watched as his eyes drifted over it.

The shifter crouched down again and licked Sam’s ear while looking at you. “Am I doing it right?” it asked before brushing your… its fingers through Sam’s hair and jostling his head around simply for the sake of reminding you who was in charge.

“That’s what you asked the first time you put Sammy’s cock in your mouth, isn’t it?” it drawled right into his ear, its eyes still locked on you.

Your heart raced, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the throbbing ache in your cheek worsened from your rapid pulse. You rested a palm against Dean’s shoulder to steady yourself as you felt yourself losing balance. All you could think about was rage. But for Sam’s sake you couldn’t let its taunts get the better of you. That was easier said than done.

“You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming,” Dean bellowed as he stepped fully in front of you, blocking you completely from the shifters view and sadly, from Sam. “Your brother went quick. Couple silver bullets and he was down. When I’m done with you you’ll be begging for a bullet, do you hear me?”

You heard a brief squelching sound and something heavy and wet spilled to the ground.

“I needed to catch up,” Sam sneered.

But it wasn’t Sam. It was the shifter, transformed now, into Sam.

“Mmmm, that’s some sweet, sweet pain and guilt, Sammy,” the shifter hummed. “Delicious..."

It pressed the knife further into Sam’s neck. Sam grimaced as the blood dribbled down his neck. All you could hear was Sam grunting in pain.

“Your gun,” it said.

Dean dropped the gun, letting it swing from his pointer finger as he spread his arms.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Dean asked.

“I told him not to go after you Winchester’s,” it spat. “But he insisted.”

“Refresh my memory, would ya? What did we do to you anyway? We haven’t hunted a shifter in years.”

You could hear Sam breathing rapidly as he tried and failed to catch his breath.

“Charisse.”

Dean hesitated. “Who the fuck is Charisse,” he asked under his breath.

“The witch… from the other day… my last hunt with Sam,” you whispered.

Dean gave you a small nod without breaking eye contact with the shifter.

“Since when do shifters and witches work together?” Dean asked.

“Please, Dean… we both know you don’t care,” the shifter replied.

Dean shrugged again. “Eh… normally you’d be right, I don’t really care what you monsters get up to when you’re not hurting people. But a witch and shifters working together? Well, that’s not something I’ve ever seen before.”

“Charisse was like a mother to us,” the shifter said as he stood, still holding the blade to Sam’s throat. “She fed us and took care of us and gave us advice about moving through the world as monsters that people like us never get. And in return we helped her… well, pay the bills…,”

“So you were thieves,” Dean said.

You silently crouched and glanced around Dean, desperate for a view. You caught sight of the shifter standing above Sam. The grip on its blade had loosened as it spoke. The top of Sam’s head reached just beneath the neck of the shifter but in Sam’s frame, with his broad shoulders, there was a clear shot; a small shot, but a clear one.

As you stood, hidden behind Dean, and his open jacket which added several inches to his frame, you took advantage of the cover to check that the safety on your gun was released.

“Don’t move,” you whispered so that only Dean could hear you.

“So mommy dearest bites the big one and your brother decides to get revenge,,” Dean vamped to keep the shifter distracted. “You both came to this town and got up to no good in order to draw out Sam. But brother got dead and now it all rests on your shoulders. Did I miss anything?” Dean asked, taunting the shifter.

As he spoke you slowly, carefully and silently turned so that your back was to Dean’s and aimed your gun forward, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek. You were going to have to move quickly or the shifter would get the drop and… and… well, that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen. Your took a deep, steadying breath.

As the shifter began to reply you swiftly and carefully spun around on one foot, ready to aim your gun at the shifter’s head.

It looked and sounded every bit like Sam and if it weren’t for the fact that he was sitting right there that may have given you pause. You aimed and without a whisper of hesitation, fired off a single silver round into its head. It dropped the blade, sending it cascading across Sam’s front before clattering to the ground. The shifter stumbled backwards and Dean made a break for it, crossing the room in several long strides as you dropped your gun and sprinted to Sam.

Dean pinned the shifter down with his knee digging into its back as he pulled its arms behind its back and bound them tightly at the wrists. It was unnecessary, though, it was as dead as the one you’d left at the bunker.

“Nice shot,” Dean said as he examined the thing. For the second time in just a few hours Dean had to deal with the lifeless and bloodied body of his brother.

You stood over Sam and leaned over him, your fingers trembled with adrenaline as you fumbled with the knot on the rope between Sam’s lips.

“Y/n,” Sam whispered between his panicked breaths the second his mouth was free. You crouched down in front of him as you deftly cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles, hardly pulling your eyes away from his for more than half a second.

You looked him over as he stood carefully. In addition to the blackeye he was bruised on his thighs and abdomen and there were deep, red rashes around his wrists and ankles. Sam’s eyes hung on you but he wasn’t looking into your eyes. He was examining you, studying whatever it was that Dean saw in the car earlier that made him wince.

Without even thinking, you found yourself pulling your silver blade from your boot. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said. “But I have to.”

He nodded and pulled his hand into a fist as he held his arm out. Sam watched your eyes as you swiped the blade across his arm, drawing out a thin trail of blood. He winced and inhaled sharply, all the while never peeling his eyes away from you.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It was Sam. It was really Sam. You dropped your blade to the ground with a clatter.

While you wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap yourself around him, to cling to him, you were still unsure of everything. You stopped short of a hug and instead stood there like an idiot, frozen, as you stared up at him. You had to remind yourself to breathe, again. He stared down at you, holding your gaze now, before briefly glancing to the side of your face and back.

Dean picked up your gun and blade before giving the room a quick once-over. The electronic components, flashing green and orange, were kept to one side, opposite of the desk.

Sam caught your eyes lingering on the pile of rope and the blood spatters around the chair and pulled you to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and inhaled deeply as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m okay,” he whispered.

You felt your insides return as he held you. Your heart and lungs and thoughts all fell back into place, stopping the pinging marble in its tracks as the walls crumbled. The marble, with one last ping, lodged into your heart. You were whole again… mostly.

“God, Sam,” you said, fighting back your sobs. “I… I-”

He brushed his hands over your hair and tenderly shushed you. “I’m here,” he said softly.

“Is it dead?” Sam asked Dean, his tone hard as he continued stroking his palms carefully over you. You caught Dean giving Sam a small, silent nod as you pulled away, ready to not spend another second in this place. Dean handed you your gun and knife which you quickly put away.

Dean stood to the side of the door, ushering you and Sam out before flipping the light switch and pushing the door shut behind him.

Dean lead you all back to the Impala, his eyes scanned the area like clockwork as you all made a beeline for the car. You climbed into the front seat, the safety of the Impala enveloping you as you finally relaxed and your shoulders dropped. Dean quickly looked around as Sam climbed in the back. Dean started up the engine, it’s gentle rumble surely waking at least one person in the nearby houses.

In less than fifteen minutes Dean had you all back at the motel.

“We’re not going back to the bunker?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head and glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. “We need Cass to check the warding. It’s not safe.”

Sam looked at you and then back at Dean. “The… the bunker?”

Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to know more but the hesitation from you and Dean to say more made him scared to ask. He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon you and you could see in the rearview mirror the tears glistening in his eyes again. You had never seen him look so vulnerable: half-naked, no weapon, fighting back tears. You wanted to kill the shifter all over again. You bit at the inside of your lip, worried that it might start to dawn on him what had happened. It’s not that you didn’t want him to know. You just weren’t ready to deal with it. And as long as Sam didn’t know, you could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened. Almost.

Dean nodded curtly as he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared distantly ahead.

“Stay here,” he said to Sam as you climbed out of the car, too. You raised an eyebrow to Dean. “I’ll be right back,” he added to Sam.

Dean, ever the over-protector, was now made even worse. He followed you to the door and once again, checked the entire place over.

“Dean,” you sighed.

“Not up for debate,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, his eyes still studying every inch of the room as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m not saying you can’t be protective but you’re not my security guard. There isn’t a monster in every closet,” you said.

His nostrils flared as he stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, before turning back to you. “What happened… tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “...will never happen again. I won’t let it,” he finished as he swallowed hard. “Not even for a single second will I let you go through something even remotely close to that ever again.”

You stood there in the middle of the room, too shattered and exhausted to argue with him. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid that night all that time ago when Cass manipulated Sam’s memory.

“What are you gonna tell him?” you asked as you choked back your emotions.

“Enough to catch him up,” Dean said as he turned away and headed back to the Impala.

He left the motel door open and climbed back into the Impala. Sam watched you from the backseat. You locked eyes for a brief second as Dean twisted to face Sam and rested his arm on the backseat.

You stepped away from his line of sight, not prepared to handle what Sam’s reaction might be. As they talked, you kicked off your boots and jeans and slipped out of your flannel before climbing into the already unmade bed, leaving the fresh bed for Dean. You left half the bed for Sam, though you weren’t sure if he’d take it. Sure, he’d been emotional and comforted you, that still didn’t mean he’d forgiven you.

You cozied up under the blankets and shut your eyes, desperate to fall asleep, though you weren’t sure what you’d find when you got there. More importantly, however, if you were asleep then you didn’t have to talk with Sam. You inhaled deeply as you nestled your face into the pillow. It smelled faintly like Sam and the longing for him slowly began building back up inside of you. You felt a single tear slip down, leaving a wet circle on the fabric.

Dean’s booted stomps sounded as he crossed the threshold, followed by Sam’s silent, shoeless scuffles. You half wondered if he’d brought any other shoes with him but that was a problem for tomorrow. One of them flipped the lights off. Sam paused at the edge of the bed for a moment and you could hear him quietly breathing as he watched you. A beat passed before he continued to the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled the string on his bedside lamp, providing him with enough light so that he could walk about the room but not disturb you. Seconds later you heard the pipes squeak and water rushing as Sam turned on the shower.

You carefully opened one eye just a sliver and watched as Dean grabbed the ice bucket from the dinette table and left, this time pulling the door quietly shut behind him. He returned moments later. You listened as the locks clicked and Dean slid the chain lock into place. He sat in the dinette chair and peeled open one of the empty plastic bucket liners. He scooped ice into it and tied a knot at the top, sealing it closed. The chair quietly scraped across the floor as he stood up and pushed it back. You could feel his presence looming over you, blocking out the light of his lamp on the other side of the room.

“I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered.

You huffed and gently bit at your lip before opening your eyes. “What gave me away?”

“Scooch,” he said. You turned carefully and painfully onto your back and pushed yourself back just enough for him to sit beside you on the bed.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain of the near suffocation you'd endured back at the bunker was beginning to set in. Your chest ached deep down to the bottom of your lungs and you kept your breath short to avoid the sharp, stabbing pain that came when you inhaled too deeply.

Dean lifted the ice bag and slowly pressed the bag against the right side of your face, eliciting a hiss from you as it stung your tender skin. You reached up and placed your hand over Dean’s who pulled his away, letting you take over. You held it there as he watched you.

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit,” he said as he stood back up.

“What for?” you asked.

“Um, your face,” Dean said as he wrinkled his brows.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as he squatted down to pull it from one of the side pockets of his bag.

“You haven’t looked?” he asked as he made his way back over to you and sat down. You shook your head slightly, the ice clinking along to each movement. He studied your expression before nodding. He kicked his boots off and leaned over. You let your hand fall as he pulled the ice bag back.

“Can’t see,” he muttered as he reached over and pulled the string of your bedside lamp, illuminating your side of the room. He straightened up and zipped open the first aid kit to pull several items out.

You glanced down and watched as Dean fussed over his tools. A little bottle of clear liquid caught your eye and inexplicably made your stomach drop.

“Not rubbing alcohol, Dean… please,” you said quietly, shocked at yourself as tears stung the corner of your eyes. You just couldn’t… hurt, anymore. Not tonight. You’d had enough.

“Don’t be a baby,” he said before catching your pained expression. “Sorry,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not alcohol,” he said, shaking the little bottle. “It’s like antiseptic or something.” He shrugged.

You took a deep breath and looked away. Dean took that as his sign to continue. “Can you sit up a little?” he asked.

You pushed yourself up and jutted your head forward. He held the washcloth beneath the cut.

“Look up,” he said. You did as he asked. He squeezed the bottle’s liquid across your cheek, into your cut, cleansing it. The washcloth caught most of the runoff, but some did escape and run down your neck, slicking it. He pulled the washcloth away and refolded it to get to a dry edge and dabbed it gently along your check. You stared at a random spot on the wall as he worked. He returned the bottle to the pouch and pulled out an ointment tube which he squeezed onto a cotton swab and swiped it across your cut as gently as he could manage.

“This is deep, y/n. I’m gonna have to stitch it in the morning,” he said as he pulled the wound tightly shut with two butterfly bandages. You grimaced at the thought.

“Done,” he said with a gentle smile as he returned everything to the kit and zipped it up.

The roar of the shower cut off and there was the familiar scrape of the shower hooks across the curtain rod as Sam exited the shower.

“Thanks,” you wheezed as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

Dean cleared his throat. “Can I… do you need anything?”

You shrugged as you locked eyes with him. “Water, I guess? And every breath hurts from when... And sleep, but… I’m also, I mean, I’m a little afraid… to sleep. Don’t know what I’ll…,” you trailed off.

Dean glanced away and seemed to think for a moment. He left your side only to quickly return with the stainless steel water jug and a plastic cup from the motel. He filled it with water and handed it to you. As you sipped the water he returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bag with two large white pills in it. Dean handed them to you and you let them roll over in your palm as you tried to guess what they were.

“They’ll conk you out,” he explained. “And Sam and I will be right here the entire time. You don’t have to worry,” he assured you.

“I never worry about that,” you said, giving him a lopsided smile.

He frowned and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him not to do that, that he had done everything he could and what happened wasn’t his fault, but you just didn’t have the energy. You swallowed the pills and finished the water. Dean refilled the cup and set it on the bedside table. You shifted onto your side, your injured cheek faced up, and got comfortable under the covers as Dean turned the lamp back off. He picked up the bag of ice and placed it gently back over your cheek.

You were just beginning to drift off when you heard the bathroom door open followed by the quiet footsteps of Sam making his way to his bag to rummage for clean clothes. He returned moments later and climbed into bed beside you. It was quiet for a moment but you could feel his presence as he leaned over you, examining your face in the pale light.

“Did I miss anything?” he whispered to Dean.

“Just bandaged her up a little,” Dean whispered from his bed. “And gave her the good stuff to help her sleep.”

“Maybe I should go to a pharmacy and get some real ice packs,” Sam thought aloud.

“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing open for over a hundred miles,” Dean reminded him.

“I’m sure I could break into a doctor's office or something in this Podunk town,” Sam said. The bed creaked as he leaned back against his pillow.

“Okay, simmer down, John Dillinger,” Dean teased. “It wouldn’t make enough of a difference to be worth it. Gonna have to stitch it up in the morning regardless. What about you? You good?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "Nothing deeper than surface level."

You wanted to move, to curve to Sam, or ask him to hold you, but the drugs Dean gave you were strong and were quickly taking over every muscle in your body, including your tongue and lips, and thankfully your aching lungs.

“Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Dean’s bed creaked and you slipped your eyes open a crack to see him turning onto his side, squeezing his pillow against his face. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans and flannel. You couldn’t see it but knowing Dean the hand under his pillow was resting over his Colt. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

Sam leaned over in the darkness and pressed his lips gently to your temple. You sighed as you fought tooth and nail against the drugs for more seconds with Sam, scared that in the morning, or when you were better, Sam would be gone again. Your body was so heavy you felt like you were going to sink into the mattress.

He pushed toward you, pressing his body carefully against yours and found your hand. He grasped it in his and with everything you had left, before giving into the heaviness and slipping under, you squeezed it, desperate to let him know you were there and aware and so grateful for every moment with him. He laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand along with his to your heart, wrapping you in him like you were a gift and he was the bow.

The message had been received.

EDIT: Chapter 12

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aollosjustlurking · 2 years ago

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the final installment of the "folklore x anxceit breakup and virgil leaving the dark sides" study is here my friends. tonight i give you “hoax”

TW: this song contains mentions to weapons and suicidal thoughts. please do not read if it is unsafe for you to do so.

My only one My smoking gun My eclipsed sun

despite their relationship being rocky, for a while all virgil had was the dark sides, and more specifically janus. this juxtaposition of calling something yours in a romantic way before describing it as an unpleasant or dangerous way is incredibly fitting for the two of them.

This has broken me down

we are looking at the final moments of anxceit here. this is before virgil has "moved on" by only letting himself feel hate for janus. right now the pain is raw, even though virgil has been feeling it for months now.

My twisted knife My sleepless night My win-less fight This has frozen my ground

this continues to outline the conflicting feelings virgil is feeling. on the one hand he feels for janus, he loves him, but on the other hand he realizes that they cannot work and that his priorities lie with the light sides.

Stood on the cliffside Screaming, "Give me a reason"

i see this as virgil deciding to "duck out" but also deciding to end things with janus. he doesn't know which way anything will go and he just wants direction.

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in

at one point virgil did truly believe in his relationship with janus. but as he got closer with the light sides and things began to deteriorate, he started to question whether it was a lie, a hoax. even still he stayed for a while, not willing to actually come to terms with his own query.

Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do

again, the conflicting feelings he is feeling at the end of it all.

My best laid plan Your sleight of hand

both of these are referring to scheming in one way or another. this is obviously easily tied to janus, but i feel easily tied to virgil as well. virgil doesn't feel comfortable with lies, we know this, but a plan is not necessarily nefarious. planning romantic endeavors is something we know he prefers to do as we saw in "flirting with social anxiety".

My barren land I am ash from your fire

rising from the fire often represents growth. virgil knows that to grow he needs to leave and rise from the ashes.

Stood on the cliffside Screaming "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do

You know I left a part of me back in New York

now, instead of "in new york" just think "with the other sides"

You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for?

this seems like something you'd say, exasperated, in an argument. like the two of them have being yelling back and forth and virgil is just done. why are we doing this? we know this is over. why are we fighting still?

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart

virgil refers to the pain he felt as an antagonist as mostly shame, but i think we all know he was not happy to be insulted every day, to be pulled apart every day.

You knew the password, so I let you in the door You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score?

these are once again exasperated statements. i believe that janus wanted virgil to stay and wanted the two of them to stay together so he fought. at some point virgil gave up on fighting and fully left.

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart But what you did was just as dark

Darling, this was just as hard As when they pulled me apart

we don't know of any large, back-stabbing event where janus totally screwed over virgil. i imagine some sort of catalyst though. or, as i theorized with the illicit affairs post, too many little lies were given by janus and virgil just couldn't do it anymore. at some point virgil had to have decided that being with the light sides who had antagonized him for at least months was better than being with janus.

My only one My kingdom come undone

i love this line so much. it truly exemplifies what i think happened. at some point, close to when virgil was accepted, anxceit just unraveled into the mess it is today.

My broken drum You have beaten my heart

Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do

virgil still loves janus, at least he does shortly after being accepted. but he, in his opinion, has to move on and away from that chapter.

#sander sides #thomas sanders #taylor swift #ts #virgil sanders #janus sanders #anxceit #anxceit angst #past anxceit #thomas sanders and taylor swift are my favorite things #sander sides and taylor swift are my favorite things #folklore #hoax

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twin-scars · 3 years ago

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headcanons, part III

(( headcanons part I, headcanons part II ))

Nancy wields the guns and Jonathan prefers the melee weapons (less chance of him missing);

Nancy is a surgeon with a shotgun; Jonathan’s just a surgeon (poor El);

Nancy borrows Jonathan’s clothes constantly;

they fall asleep on the couch watching TV together (Family Ties bores Jonathan);

Nancy never got Jonathan’s lunch order wrong, and made sure he had all the right condiments on his sandwich (back when they worked at Hawkins Post);

Nancy beats Jonathan at Duck Hunt constantly;

Jonathan is a huge horror fan, but Nancy isn’t;

They both love road trips;

Jonathan’s love language is acts of service; Nancy’s is physical touch;

the colors of their outfits coordinate--most times;

Nancy threw away his awful pajama pants he wore at Murray’s;

They love to sleep together (actually sleep);

Nancy always hogs the blankets, but it’s okay because Jonathan steals her pillow;

Alarm clocks are the bane of their existence

#jancy

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swaps55 · 4 years ago

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Untitled Goose Fic

@urrone discovered that this is a tag that exists:

So do not blame me for this. Blame the tag.

Ao3 link, if you prefer.

“So,” Shepard says, surveying the lake with a critical eye. “You have a lake.”

“My parents have a lake,” Kaidan corrects, while trying not to stare at the way Shepard’s swim trunks sit on his hips. “It came with the land.”

Just under five acres, at the back of the property. There’s even a relatively new looking jon boat tied up at the dock. Kaidan wonders if his parents ever use it. He and Shepard stand near the edge of the water, because apparently Shepard needs to judge it before he gets in it.

“Very impressive,” Shepard says with a wise nod. The sun does gorgeous things to his skin, but he’s not really supposed to be looking at that, either. God help him if that breeze picks up again and goosebumps get involved.

“Do you want to go swimming, or do you want to make me feel weird about my family’s financial status?”

“Did I say anything about your family’s financial status?”

“Your tone did.”

“I don’t have a tone.”

“That? Right there? That was the tone.”

Shepard opens his mouth to make a smartass response, but then frowns and squints at something off to the right. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That thing over there. The bird.”

Kaidan follows his gaze. “A goose.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“It’s Canada, Shepard. We have geese here.”

“You say that like it’s common knowledge for someone who’s from a few million lightyears away.” He frowns again as the goose scuttles in their direction. “Are they, uh. Are they aggressive?”

“Aggressive? Um. I mean, they can be territorial, but. It’s a goose. Ignore it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not ignoring me. I know an enemy when I see one, Kaidan, and that bird over there has no fucks to give.”

The goose is, in fact, booking it right towards them, like a missile locked on target, and Shepard might actually be on to something – the look in the bird’s eye suggests a lot of hate in its heart.

“Um,” Kaidan says before Shepard grabs him by the wrist and runs for the lake, dragging Kaidan with him. They hit the water churning and splashing, Shepard’s grip on his wrist ironclad, and Kaidan too taken aback to stop him until he’s neck deep and spitting water out of his mouth.

“Shepard what the hell are you doing?” Kaidan sputters. “This is where it lives.”

“They live in water? I thought those were ducks!”

“Also geese!”

“Well, I’m sorry I was too busy saving our lives to stop and ask.”

They bob in the water for a moment, Shepard’s hand still on his wrist, staring at the giant goose with a black-feathered head, standing sagely on the shore, watching them with empty eyes.

“Well…it didn’t follow us,” Shepard ventures.

Kaidan frowns. “Weird.”

Shepard finally lets go of his arm and sucks air in through his teeth. “Fuck me, this water is freezing. What the fu—”

The goose puffs up its feathers, and hisses.

“They hiss?” Shepard yelps. “I thought those were cats.”

“Also geese!”

The goose unfurls its wings and flaps threateningly, before pinning them shut and barreling into the lake. Shepard yelps again and swims behind Kaidan, throwing his arms around his neck and wrapping his feet around his waist.

“Are you fucking with me?” Kaidan demands, daring to take his eyes off the charging goose to shoot him a look of disbelief. “You’re using me as a shield?”

“I don’t have a gun, Kaidan.”

“What, and you think I have one stuffed in my bathing suit?

In spite of everything, Shepard ducks his chin, nose dangerously close to crook of Kaidan’s neck, and sniggers.

The goose, ludicrously enough, comes to a dead halt less than a meter away, all signs of aggression gone, and merely floats serenely in place.

“Um,” Kaidan says.

“Okay, this is weird, right? It’s not just me. This is weird.”

“…Yeah, this is weird.”

They both stare at the goose, which paddles peacefully in a slow circle around them, like it’s on patrol. Every time Shepard attempts to let go of Kaidan, it puffs up and prepares to go on the offensive again.

“…So are we just trapped in this freezing cold lake being held prisoner by a goose?” Shepard asks.

“It, uh, kinda looks that way, yeah.”

There are probably worse places he could be than trapped in a freezing cold lake with Shepard’s arms and legs around him, but. They probably do need to find a solution sooner rather than later.

The lake is really fucking cold.

The goose floats in front of them, beady eyes watching their every move.

“Is that something around its neck?” Kaidan asks.

“Probably a nametag that says, ‘Hello, My Name Is Minion From Hell.’”

Kaidan squints. “Soulmate Goose of Enforcement,” he reads.

“You’re full of shit.”

“That’s what it says.”

“You’re full of shit. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a goose called Soulmate Goose of Enforcement that gets pissed off whenever you let go of me,” Kaidan says, and somehow saying it out loud makes it sound a lot more insane.

They stare at it some more. Shepard unwinds his arms from Kaidan’s shoulders. The goose, hisses, honks, and flaps its wings. Shepard sucks in a breath and immediately wraps both arms back around him. Kaidan grips one of Shepard’s forearms with both hands, and not for entirely altruistic, life-saving reasons. The rise and fall of Shepard’s chest against his back, the warm exhales of breath against his neck…well, it’s a good thing the water is cold.

“Soulmate Goose of Enforcement,” Shepard repeats. “Do you think Beaudoin has a hand in this?”

“In siccing a wild goose with a stupid name tag at us in the middle of nowhere?”

“What, like you think that’s not something he’s capable of doing?”

Hm. Shepard has a point.

Shepard shifts his position on Kaidan’s back, cheek resting against Kaidan’s. On accident. Surely by accident.

Right?

“I, uh, have an idea,” Shepard says.

“I'm all ears.”

“It's not a good idea.”

“Better than no ideas.”

“Before I say it, I just need you to know that the alternative is punching the goose.”

“What's' the idea, Shepard?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“I told you it was a stupid idea.”

“What is kissing going to do about this situation?”

Shepard waves an arm. The goose hisses. Shepard clutches Kaidan until it backs down again. “It’s the Goose of Soulmate Enforcement, and like you said, it gets pissed off whenever I let go of you. If it thinks we’re soulmates, just kiss me to make it happy.”

“You think…the goose…actually believes it’s a Soulmate Enforcer. Suggesting not only that soulmates are a thing it needs to enforce, but also that a goose understands the concept of a soulmate and thinks we are soulmates.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll just punch it.”

Shepard turns him loose and starts swimming towards the goose, but it’s Kaidan’s turn to grab his wrist right as the goose really starts to take offense, and pull him into his chest. He’s shivering so hard he misses the first time and grazes Shepard’s nose, and then bonks him in the forehead on the second attempt. It’s only on the third try that he finds Shepard’s lips – which are just as freezing as the lake – and manages to quiet his chattering teeth long enough to kiss them.

He intends it to just be a quick peck, like they’ve been caught under some mistletoe and have to pay for their freedom. It’s a goose, after all, this is insane, and there’s no way it accomplishes anything other than making things really awkward later.

But it’s not a quick peck. Shepard doesn’t let it be a quick peck. Shepard kisses him back, like he means it, like it’s the only thing in the universe that matters, and Kaidan falls into it like quicksand.

They kiss. They keep kissing, until their lips are warm, the cold of the lake retreats to the back of his mind, Shepard’s arms loop around his neck, legs hook around his waist, and his fingers get lost in Kaidan’s hair. They kiss like it’s the only thing they know how to do, and the thought of letting go is like trying to stop breathing.

Kaidan can’t do it.

Well, okay, when they run out of air and start to gasp he figures out a way to stop, but as if to make up for it, Shepard draws him in and rests their foreheads together, body trembling.

“Wow,” Kaidan says, when he can catch his breath.

“What, um. What is the goose doing?” Shepard asks.

Kaidan cranes his head to see past Shepard, and blinks. “Um. It’s gone.”

“The goose is gone? You mean it’s going away, right?”

“No, I mean it’s gone. I don’t see it.”

Shepard twists in Kaidan’s arms – very notably not letting him go – eyes widening in disbelief. “Holy shit. You’re right. It’s gone.”

“I, uh, I guess it worked.”

“A goose that believes in soulmates.”

“Did we really get attacked by a soulmate goose? We didn’t just make that up, or hallucinate it, right?”

“…No? I’m pretty sure there was an actual goose.” Shepard turns back around, and the way his gaze drops down to Kaidan’s lips sends a shot of warmth right through to his numb toes. “So. Uh. I guess we’re saved. Don’t need to do that again.”

“Yeah…unless. Um. Unless you want to.”

“…Do you?”

“If I said yes, would—”

Kaidan is already kissing him. God, it’s good. Really good. Really, really good. Except—

“Okay, I really don’t want to stop, but, uh.”

“It’s fucking freezing in here,” Shepard finishes.

“It’s so cold. I can’t feel my feet. Or my fingers.”

“We should kiss where it’s not freezing.”

“Basically, anywhere but right here.”

“Exactly.”

They let go of each other – no goose in sight – and start swimming to shore, though Shepard takes Kaidan’s hands in his and grips it firmly. Just in case.

“Did you really just kiss me to save us from a homicidal goose?” Kaidan asks, because no matter how many times they say it out loud it sounds like a fever dream.

“Yes. But. If we’re being honest, it’s very possible I just wanted to kiss you, and figured at the time I didn’t really have much to lose.”

“Okay, see, I want to kiss you again right now, so we should hurry the hell up and find our towels.”

“Soulmate goose,” Shepard murmurs as they slosh their way out of the water. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“No,” Kaidan says, squeezing his hand tighter. “But I believe in you.”

#mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #my fic #the soulmate goose of enforcement

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 5 years ago

Text

Masterlist

A list of my old writing that you can request I revise

Song Prompts

Meeting and Dating Headcanons~

Pretty in Pink

Andie Walsh

Duckie Dale

Blane McDonagh

Steff McKee

Sixteen Candles

Jake Ryan

The Lost Boys

Paul

Dwayne

Poly Lost Boys

Edgar Frog

The Breakfast Club

Brian Johnson

John Bender

Andrew Clark

The Outsiders

Sodapop Curtis

Dallas Winston

Two-Bit Mathews

Rumblefish

Steve Hays

Ferris Buellers Day Off

Cameron Frye

Karate Kid

Daniel Larusso

Johnny Lawrence

Dutch

Heathers

Veronica Sawyer

Jason Dean

Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Jeff Spicoli

Brad Hamilton

Better Off Dead

Lane Meyer

Weird Science

Gary Wallace

Wyatt Donnelly

Dream A Little Dream

Dinger Holfield

Bill and Teds Excellent Adventure

Bill S. Preston Esquire

Ted Logan

Dating Poly Bill and Ted

The Princess Bride

Inigo Montoya

Interview with the Vampire

Louis de Pointe du Lac

Children of the Corn

Malachai Boardman

National Lampoons

Rusty Griswold (European Vacation)

Cant Buy Me Love

Kenneth Wurman

The Chocolate War

Jerry Renault

Archie Costello

The Mighty Ducks

Fulton Reed

Dean Portman

Adam Banks

Les Averman

Porkys

Brian Schwartz

Anthony ‘Meat’ Tuperello

Tommy Turner

Tim Cavanaugh

Mickey Jarvis

Just One of the Guys

Terry Griffith

Greg Tolan

Dead Poets Society

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

Knox Overstreet

Steven Meeks

Earth Girls are Easy

Mac

Combat Academy

Perry Barnett

Waynes World

Garth Algar

Austin Powers

Toy Soldiers

Ricardo Montoya

Good Will Hunting

Chuckie Sullivan

10 Things I Hate About You

Joey Donner

My Bodyguard

Ricky Linderman

Melvin Moody

Stand and Deliver

Angel Guzman

Something Wild

Ray Sinclair

Three O’Clock High

Buddy Revell

Intruder

Randy

Young Guns

Jose Chavez y Chavez

Billy the Kid

Doc Scurlock

Dazed and Confused

Benny O’Donnell

Don Dawson

Kevin Pickford

Randall “Pink” Floyd

Fred O’Bannion

Mitch Kramer

Ron Slater

Shavonne Wright

Dogfight

Eddie Birdlace

Ladybugs

Matthew

Goosebumps

Sticks

Freddy Renfield

Twister

Robert ‘Rabbit’ Nurick

Stand by me

Ace Merrill

School Ties

Rip Van Kelt

Chris Reece

The Untouchables

Eliot Ness

The Godfather

Tom Hagen

(Young) Vito Corleone

(Old) Vito Corleone

Goodfellas

Henry Hill

Little Shop of Horrors

Seymour Krelborn

Newsies

Specs

Near Dark

Severen

Friday the 13th

Jason Voorhees

Scream

Billy Loomis

Poly Billy and Stu

Stu Macher

The Craft

Nancy Downs

Hocus Pocus

Max Dennison

Thackery Binx

Beetlejuice

Lydia Deetz

Adam Maitland

The Crow

Eric Draven

Ghostbusters

Ray Stantz

Aliens

Bishop

An American Werewolf in London

Jack Goodman

Sleepaway Camp

Ricky Thomas

Re-animator

Herbert West

Silence of the Lambs

Clarice Starling

Fright Night

Jerry Dandridge

Candyman

Daniel Robitaille

The Evil Dead

Ash Williams

Sabrina the Teenage Witch

Harvey Kinkle

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Spike

Full Metal Jacket

Sgt. Hartman

Joker

Animal Mother

Pyle

Preference~ the boys with an s/o whose ex stalks them

Grease

Kenickie

Labyrinth

Jareth

Total Recall

Douglas Quaid

Requested “Would Includes” and Imagines/Fics~

Darry falling for Johnny’s sister

Allison Reynolds dating a shy nerdy girl

Starting a family with Cameron Frye

Making out with Cameron Frye

Cameron Frye comforting you when you’re upset

Getting drunk with the Ferris Bueller crew

Gary Wallace dating a tall girl

George Mcfly with a dominant flirty s/o

Comforting and being comforted by Will Hunting

Will Hunting having a crush on you

Being apart of the good will hunting gang

Armand with a virgin s/o (including nsfw)

Lestat and Louis dating a girl who loves horror movies

Making out with Duckie Dale

Duckie Dale cheering you up

Cliff having a crush on you

Making out with Cliff

Making out with Bryce

Bryce having a crush on you

The Lost Boys with an s/o having an anxiety attack + fighting depression

The Lost Boys with a sweet and innocent s/o

The Lost Boys with a curvy mate

The Lost Boys fighting with their mates

The Lost Boys dating a shy short girl

The Lost Boys taking care of you when you’re hurt

Getting drunk with the Lost Boys would include

David x Laddies older sister

Making out with Edgar Frog

Being Married to Archie Costello

Going to the beach with Archie Costello

Making out with Archie Costello

Darrys girlfriend landing a job at a local cafe as a singer

Making out with Kenneth Wurman

Being Cindys friend and Ronalds crush

Harold Sherbico having a crush

Kim Kelly dating her polar opposite

Neil Perry dating an artist

Making out with Charlie Dalton

Jealous Charlie Dalton

Jealous Knox Overstreet

A study date with Steven Meeks

Spending the winter season with Neil Perry

Comforting Charlie Dalton after he gets expelled

The dead poets walking in on Charlie and his secret, shy girlfriend

Simon Boggs having a crush on Laneys friend

Faking It-Cindy Mancini falling for the girl who paid her to be her friend

Spike having a crush on you

Steff McKee having a crush on you

Marko having a crush on you

David having a crush on you

Paul having a crush on you

Dwayne having a crush on you

Dwayne x vampire reader who dresses like Stevie Nicks

Making out with Keith Nelson

Meat having a crush on Peewees sister

Admit it- Mickey Jarvis and his future s/o having crushes on each other

Being a part of team USA and meeting Adam and Charlie

Dwayne Robertson having a crush on you

Sleepover with Bill and Ted (including nsfw)

Being pregnant with Ted Logans child

Starring in the schools Romeo and Juliet with Ted Logan

Ted Logan asking you to be his valentine

Spending Valentines day with Steff McKee

Spending Valentines day with Steven Meeks

Spending Valentines day with Keith Nelson

Spending your first Valentines day with Bryce

Wishing I Was Her (Nick Andopolis)

If You Want Out Just Say It (Ace Merrill)

Going on the Ferris adventure

Going on your own adventure with Cameron Frye

Making out with Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

Travelling back in time with Marty McFly

Tommy Devito dating a chubby artist

Years Gone By (Michael Corleone)

Sonny Corleone dating his opposite

Phillipe Gaston x reader~ Fairy Tale

Being Fulton's sister and Dating Dean Portman

Comforting Todd when he’s upset

Being married to Bill S. Preston Esquire

Being married to Ted Logan

Spending Halloween/October with Knox Overstreet

Making out with Knox

A will they, won’t they relationship with Seth Brundle

Falling in love with Edward Scissorhands

Dwayne Hicks with an Android!Technician s/o

Private Joker dating an artist

Jareth falling in love with you

Being married to Matt Hooper and going to Amity

The way you make me feel~ John Bender

Being in a long term relationship with JD

J.D. with a chronically ill s/o

Archie with a chronically ill s/o

Making out with Ted Logan

Archibald Craven falling in love

Andy Dufresne falling in love

Nsfw Headcanons~

Group sex with the lost boys

Sam Emerson

Threesome with Obie and Archie

Armand

Archie Costello

(sub) Archie Costello

Obie

Johnny Cade

Cameron Frye

Duckie Dale

Blane

John Bender

Randy (Intruder)

Joey Donner

Kenneth Wurman

Keith Nelson

The Dead Poets Kinks

Knox Overstreet

Charlie Dalton

Steven Meeks

Todd Anderson

Neil Perry

Gerard Pitts

John Bender taking your virginity

Louis de Pointe du Lac

Dinger Holfield

The Lost Boys

Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

Benny O’donnell

Fred O’Bannion

Cliff

Bryce

Johnny Walker

George Mcfly

Brian Moreland

(sub) Perry Barnett

Bill S. Preston Esquire

Ted Logan

Randy Meeks

Michael Emerson

Nancy Downs

Ray Stantz

Egon Spengler

Spike

Angel Guzman

Sgt. Hartman

Brad Hamilton

Douglas Quaid

Chris (night of the creeps)

Sonny Corleone with a shy, virgin s/o

George Mcfly getting jealous and being dominant

Grease Monkey (Keith Nelson smut)

Sins of the flesh and matters of the heart (David x reader + Dwayne smut)

#80s movies #80s imagine #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s smut #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanon #80s movie smut #90s movies #90s imagine #90s movie headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s tv show imagine #90s tv headcanons

3K notes · View notes

80s4life · 4 years ago

Text

The Thought Of Losing You

Word Count: 2,507

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: Lethal Weapon 1987 {1}

A/N: This follows sort of around the ending of the first Lethal Weapon film where both Riggs, Murtaugh, and Rianne were being tortured in separate ways. I know it sounds brutal, but trust me, it isn't that bad. AND! Happy ending! (Spent all night on this!)

Relationship: Martin Riggs x Reader

Summary: When a team is formed, Roger Murtaugh and Martin Riggs are solidified together once Y/N is added to the mix, squeezing in perfectly. Although very fiery and stubborn at heart, childish games and teasing became common place for sergeant Y/N and Martin, unable to let the other out-trash their own trash talk. But, when there is a complication during the final breakthrough of the whereabouts of the heroin-trafficking cartel, Y/N is separated from the duo. Only coming together when a kidnapping sends her in a desperate spiral trying to save the people she loves, especially Riggs.

Warnings: violent themes, kidnap, manipulation, torture, violence, language, attempted!self-surrender/suicide, 18+ audience suggested, read at own risk

Masterlist Lethal Weapon Masterlist

Prompts: #67, #68, #100 (from this list @palettes-and-prompts) & #6, #8, #17 (from this list @waiting-for-motivation)

{I do not own any of the prompts, credits to original owners above, nor do I own the gif below -> @leofromthedark}

Strolling around to the back of the supposed drug dealer's extravagant condo, Murtaugh, Riggs, and I engage in light conversation, silently noting and observing our surroundings. Stopping just near the edge of the rather expensive-looking below ground pool, Murtaugh and Riggs catch sight of two brunette women inside. Rolling my eyes, I expect Riggs to do something flirtatious, a painstakingly common reaction to almost every woman he lays eyes on. Every woman... except me. Yet, I pay no mind, Riggs' crazy nature probably too much for me to handle anyway.

Murtaugh flashes his gun, indicating to the women that he is armed. In a flash of a second, just merely after he had shown his weapon, the women duck and run from within the glass-paned wall, just in time for a man to blast a shot from behind. More specifically, the source being a shed occupying the space on the opposite side of the pool we resided on, destroying bits of its siding from the sheer distance and voracity of his attempt of subduing at least one of us.

But, we came prepared, although we were slightly taken aback, Murtaugh's swift abilities with a gun coming in handy as he lands on the drug dealer's right knee, lower thigh area. Splitting off, Murtaugh and I take either end of the pool's side, desperately trying to corral the person of interest. All the while as Riggs takes the women from in the house outside and to the nearest tree, in case of them being suspects as well, handcuffing their wrists together around the tree.

Once the task is done, Riggs hurries over to our aid, following our one, sole purpose: keeping the suspect alive for questioning.

Coming around the perimeter of the pool, Murtaugh reminds Riggs of this rule, replaying it to refresh his sometimes questionable mind. This, however, does not work in our favor as the man pulls yet another gun, this time a pistol, as Riggs had went to pull the man up.

"He's got a gun!" I scream, yet it's all in vain, as Riggs tries to act just as fast as his reflexes would've allowed, lifting the man's aimed arm as the trigger was pulled.

Yelping in surprise, I clench my teeth as the copper red liquid instantly encompasses the injured area, jerking as far away from the incident as possible.

"Y/N!" Murtaugh yells, instantly coming to my side as I go crashing to the concrete floor, catching my head and my left side as I now slowly lean into the ground below me, clutching the stinging injury to the right of my abdomen.

As Murtaugh had come to my side, Riggs took care of the suspect, unfortunately not being able to accomplish our sole purpose of being here, but overall getting rid of the threat.

"Cocksucker," he all but grunts, as he makes sure to shoot the man once more, pissed at the fact that I had gotten shot, although that fact being unbeknownst to me. "I'll call the ambulance," he all put spits out some time later, not making any attempt to check on my well being nor even making eye contact, stalking back through the side gate we had entered through.

//Some time later//

Now nestled safely and securely, I lay within the gloomy walls of the hospital, hooked up with some anesthetics and monitors, all for separate purposes. The stitches surely going to leave an awesome scar, only adding to my aggravation and exhaustion as the day finally settles and the slightest of movements constantly sending sharp pains within my whole body.

The doctors, coming in every so often, had reassured me of a discharge after the course of at least 2-4 days, only needing to ensure the proper sanitary measures are used and stitches being durable and strong without issues or tears.

Staring off at one of the four blank and colorless walls, in a daze, my ears perk up at the sound of a knock on my door, followed by Roger and Martin entering the room.

Handing me a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates, I smile at Roger as he pulls a chair beside my bed, asking, "How ya' feeling, Shortie? How're they treatin' ya' here?"

Giggling at the nickname, I respond with an, "I'm doing just as good as I can I guess. It's not so bad here either. The nurses are nice, although they're all pitiful glances and meek gestures, coming in and out as quickly as possible. I guess bullet wounds aren't their preferred cases?" I joke lightly, trying to lighten the tension in the room.

Roger catches on instantly, having caught wind on Martin's rather uncharacteristically quiet sulking in the far corner of the room. Turning to look at him briefly, he all but shrugs at me as he comes up with no response or solution to his partner's unknown issue.

Checking the time, I make up an excuse, assuming Riggs just didn't want to be here maybe? "Damn, look at the time...It's almost 9 pm guys, don't wanna be late for Trish's cooking do ya'?"

"Shit, really? Come on Riggs, you know the ass whoopin' I'm gonna get? Let's go, minus well feed you too, huh?" Murtaugh says, getting his coat and squeezing my shoulder, giving me a sympathetic look that I swipe away quickly. Riggs just gets up, side-eyeing me once quickly, but above all, ignores my presence and leaves the room. With one final look from Rog, he shuts the door, leaving me to my boredom for the remainder of my stay.

//Some time later//

Having been discharged, Roger had caught me up on the recent news, and how they had left to finish the job a day before I had gotten out of the hospital, that being yesterday evening, and it now being a full 24 hours of no communication from them.

This had struck me as odd, given that they were very advanced in their fields. Finding the whereabouts was the last big hump of every mission, the rest supposedly coming easy. This had all changed as soon as I had stepped foot onto my front porch, a not left hanging slightly within the pocket of my mailbox.

The words shocking me to the core;

"Come to xxxxxxxxxx if you want to save your partners. 8 o'clock. Sharp."

Rushing to my car, I waste no time, pulling out of the driveway and to the given destination, the time being almost too close to the deadline as I preferred it to be.

Once outside of the destination, an old, run-down warehouse stands gloomily in front of me as I slip my gun into the waistband of my jeans. Another, tucked against my ankle within my boots.

I move quietly, staying alert as I enter the warehouse quietly, instantly hit with the cries of what could only belong to Riggs, my heart wrenching. A new feeling that I instantly push aside. Following the pained screams, inching closer to the source, I catch wind of yet another's set of booming cries as well, recognizing it as Murtaugh.

With this new set of knowledge, my heart does another painful flip, as the sheer terror now courses through my veins as if it was my blood. They were the toughest men I had ever known. At least that is how I had always felt, how I feel right now, but with their pained screams, it makes me feel utterly hopeless.

Drawing my gun, I aim it before me, right beside the wall I hide on, lining it up around the corner, my full intention at being able to at least shoot down one of the three men guarding one of my teammates; their identity unknown to me at the moment with the unfortunate dimness.

Taking the shot, I hit one man, the two now swinging to guard the area, looking my direction. The man held captured, Riggs, tied to the ceiling, consistently doused in water, making the homemade shock therapy increasingly unbearable with multiple relentless blows.

"Come out now, Little Rabbit, or I pull the trigger," a booming voice commands, me now peeking out from the corner to see none other than Mr. Joshua, the man we've been after, pressing a firm gun to Riggs' limp form.

Coming out from my hiding space, Joshua motions for his goons to grab me, now taking Riggs off the hook, and into another room. The room we are led to happens to be the room Murtaugh is in, his daughter beside him, both incarcerated and handcuffed. Moving Riggs to the chair beside the pair, he is tied down just as I am, the four of us now completely helpless.

Mr. Joshua, confident and prideful of his work, moves Riggs to the center of the room, starting his interrogation, answering with beatings and threats here and there. The cause: the information given by Hunsaker on his heroin-trafficking cartel.

Just as Joshua leaves yet another powerful blow, Riggs' strength starts to run low, just watching him making me squirm in my chair, wanting nothing but to take him in my arms and drag him as far away from here as possible.

"If you have to kill one of us, kill me. Take me instead, please? Just stop! Stop all of this now," I say breathlessly, doing anything in my will to get their hands off of Riggs.

"What would I want with someone as pathetic as you?" Mr. Joshua answers bitterly.

"Information. That's all you want right? You just want details about the business, you went through all this trouble, and for what? Just to kill us in the end? I know your type. You can't get off without getting what you want, and this would've all gone to waste without it," I respond, determined now.

"So, what do you want? To strike a deal?" I nod. "So, if I let them go, you'll give me what I want?" I nod again.

"Y/N no," Riggs says, now worried about what you're going up against.

"Shut it," Joshua states strictly.

"Y/N, listen to Riggs! You can't do this!" Murtaugh adds, now borderline terrified as everyone in this room is filled with the most important people in his life, all threatened with the only thing that could take them all away: death.

"SHUT IT!" Joshua all but screams now. "Fine. I'll take you up on your little deal. However, you fuck with me, I'm killing them."

"I don't agree with you unless you cut them loose right now, and I am assured that they are out of this building," I say confidently, yet shaking with fear.

He nods his agreement, showing a security camera view from one of his computers, watching as Rianne, Roger, and Martin are all led back outside, handcuffs removed, and all moved into my car, them pulling away from the warehouse.

Pulling the computer's view away from me now, he turns to me sharply, my gaze turning upward as my arms are still strapped behind my back, behind the chair. "Now," he starts, the voice strict like a parent beginning to question a toddler, "The information. What did Hunsaker tell you?"

Taking a breath in through my nose, I exhale through my mouth as I ponder my response, "Just as much as he's told you."

With this, Mr. Joshua lets out a scream, landing a punch to the jaw, my body leaning in on the stitches. Taking notice to my sharp intake of breath from the movement, Joshua uses that to his advantage, grabbing a knife, lifting my shirt, and pressing the cool metal along the line of handiwork. The only thing keeping my skin together at the moment.

"Let's try this again, what information did you receive from Hunsaker?"

"I told you. I. Don't. Know."

"Bullshit!" He digs into the skin, smirking at the cry of agony and shaking engulf my body.

"I-I don't know anymore than you do! Please! He was killed before we got anything from him!"

"Bullshit," he answers playfully now, dragging the blade of the knife wherever he pleases now, enjoying my pleads.

As he opens up my stitched bullet wound, he goes to start at another spot, the attempt being short-lived as a bullet wound of his own goes through his skull, the source standing in the doorway alongside Murtaugh with Rianne tucked under her father's arm.

Crying now, I sigh in relief as Riggs rushes to me, cutting me loose and lifting my limp body. Carrying me to the car, we make our way to the hospital once more.

During the wait and multiple switching of rooms, Riggs stays, waiting for me, only getting up once I emerge from the exit, patched up and clean. He smirks at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, leading me to Rog's car, taking us to the only place we find comfort; his house.

//Some time later//

Getting settled in at the Murtaugh residence, Riggs and I share Rianne's room, which was so generously offered as one of the youngest decide to have a sleepover with her.

Looking over at Riggs, he looks at me, covered in open cuts and bruises, dirt and grime, and, taking a first aid kit from Rianne's desk, I make it my priority to get them fixed up.

"What are you doing?" Riggs asks, tiredly amused.

"Taking care of you, it's the least I can do," I reply determined once again.

"Awww! Someone's got a little crush on me huh?"

"Hey! When I finish patching you up, I swear to God I'm gonna kick your ass for making me worry about you," I say jokingly. Riggs replying by grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer.

Locking eyes on one another now, I couldn't help but joke once more, adding a sly, "Is this the moment that we kiss?"

Giggling, he looks down, placing his head on my chest, murmuring, "I think I'm in love with you and I don't know what to do. I mean, I've been married before, and I- I lost her and I don't wanna lose you too- I couldn't live if you go too, I-"

Grabbing his chin, I tilt his head upwards to meet my gaze, "Look at me, Riggs. Look at me. I love you."

Eyes watering, he leans in for a kiss, my hands finding way to his hair, while his pull my hips into his lap, wrapping lightly around them. After leaning back for air, we giggle once more, leaning our foreheads against one another.

"I never want to ever feel the fear of the thought of losing you again, okay? So don't be a dumbass, Dumbass."

"Yeah, yeah," Riggs answers once more, leaning in for another kiss.

#mel gibson #danny glover #traci wolfe #lethal weapon #lethal weapon 1989 #martin riggs #rianne murtaugh #martin riggs x reader #female reader insert #martin riggs imagine #lethal weapon imagine #roger murtaugh #mel gibson imagine #mel gibson x reader #1989 #80s #90s

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hazbinextgeneration · 2 years ago

Text

Exes, Ohs, And Ocs P2

(Warning: Cussing, suggestive themes, nsfw references but no actual nsfw scenes, violence, death, etc but it will all be heavily censored/fade to black. Do not read if these bother you. If any of Vizviepop's ocs are mentioned they belong to her.)

It wasn't too long for everyone to be escorted back to bed by one of Crimson's goons with everyone following suit. Soon all doors were shut and everyone was settled in getting ready to sleep so they could leave the following morning soon after.

Rizza was in her bed reading her texts from Loona. "Hey Rue, we made sure Loona was fed before we left right?" she asks her friend who was out of the shower in a bathrobe

"Positive why?" she stated with sort words

"Says here on her emojis she's starving for some bacon but we don't have any at the office."

Pru sighed looking over her shoulder. "Must be having some cravings, well here let me see," she asks as Rizza hands her the phone and texts something back to Loona.

Rizza got it back and rad aloud. "Ok 5 dollar, yeah, in a mailbox! shoe emoji and shopping cart. Ooohh you left her food money when we left huh?," she asks her

"She has preferences and it's best she's content with what she can get, otherwise Blitzø will be her punching bag for the week," she says putting on her signature bow in her hair.

"Yeah I have some questions on why he lets her beat him up when she throws a fit, can't you stop it? Your the strongest and most jacked imp I know honey," she says patting her back sweetly

Pru let's her hair fall and ties it up. "Rizzy he has to learn lessons on his own because if we force feed him he'll never learn to toughen up when it called for it", she says as she fixes her hair

Rizza began to ponder. "Girl you and him are starting to sound like a thing ."

Pru scoffs. "We are not a thing Rizz, you know me and him are just open about s*x and whom we do it with or rather not plus he just likes needing company with him when he's alone. He strays away with his stalking but I find it sweet that he leans on me for something's he needs to" she says with a soft tone and a sorta smile she had that made Rizza gasp.

"It's just s*x with feelings on the side with an extra emot baggage on the side you two share?" she asks teasing her as Rizza was leaning on her shoulder.

"It's just s*x, work and violence on targets, also some conversation but yes it's nothing more Rizza, if he wants to open up more he has to take initiative not just me, and if he botches it up I'll forgive him, if he hurts me verbally, I'll forgive him because.... somebody has to rather than wanting to, he's not a horrible person he's just a person with flaws," she says stating her mind of her partner in crime and bed.

Rizza kisses her cheek like a sister would to her sibling. "Ok I trust you girl, but if he crosses the last line I'm gonna gonna install a motion activated gun under his desk." she says hugging Prudence affectionately suddenly very loud and uh...questionable noises were heard across the door to the other room where Blitzø was staying.

"Of course he would" they said in unison as Blitzø was 'dancing' with a certain shark, but the sound of it was pretty awful yet continues to go on.

Rizza face palms her face. "He's gonna call you to tag in so he'd withstand this one night stand a little better huh?" she asks covering her head with a pillow, and right on cue she receives a call from her boss.

-Insert Fade To Black Moment For The Implied NSFW Scenes-

"Ok f**ker no one's who that bad in bed can score two hotties that easily. Now let's see what your hiding," he says as he plumages through his discarded clothes on the floor seeing a clue of him renting a suit he was wearing earlier than he found he car keys but ducked down as he heard him snore and moved a little in his slumber with Pru squirming in her sleep her body hidden under the cover thanks to Blitzø as he folds her clothes up neatly on the nightstand and places a kiss on her head. "Thank for the fun again kitty~ Don't wait for me" he says as he goes outside to see where his car is than unlocked the doors to search inside finding bills that are not paid and I.O.U's threatening to kill him if he doesn't, once the driver's seat was through he went to the trunk and saw a laundry bag filled with dirty clothes, receipts and some toiletries than finds a note.

Master Plan 1. Convince Crimson I'm rich 2. Marry Moxxie into the family 3.??????? 4. Get fucking rich $$$$$$$$

Blitzø stood up enraged as he's employees/friends were in a scam for losing each other. "Oh f**k that! Nobody f**ks with M&M's marriage but me", he says in revenge than suddenly he was injected with KO fluid in the neck than shoved in the trunk by none other than Chaz in his boxers who laughs.

"Sorry babe, you weren't the only junk in mah trunk.. D*mnit that was not a good one" he says as he realizes what he said was very poor choice and heads back upstairs before anybody else got out to see him, Prudence jolted awake and saw Chaz fully clothed as he offers her some coffee.

"Sorry I didn't know how you liked it, so I brought up some of everything babe, thanks for the mind blowing service last night~ Hope we meet again," he says smoothly to her who was sitting up and grabbed her clothes.

"This will not happen again, I only came for my boss nothing more" she said to him as she makes herself decent than got a slap to the ass by a cheeky shark demon to which she brushed it off. "Charming, speaking of which has you seen Blitzø?" she asks him while her friend Rizza caught up with her in the stairway.

"He said he wanted to get some fresh air, you can find him outside" he said vaguely

After some small morning conversation the girls of the group went outside to look for their boss "You'd think he left toto buy some energy shots?" asks Rizza as she uses her phone to call him but sadly was on vibrate Millie looks around the parking lot to search for him than she heard faint thumping in a car trunk and with some help from Pru was able to pry it open revealing their boss all drugged up and dizzy.

"Ladies you found me!~ hey who are you're new friends behind you?", he asks.

Millie, Rizza and Pru looked at one another. "Friends?" they said in unison than like a switch Prudence felt someone dangerous behind her grabbed a goon by the throat and slid his tonsils open dropping him on the floor as Millie slammed the others head into the trunk door and shut it causing instant decapitation of a bloody Mafia head on Blitzøs body who stood there in shock Rizza caught up with a bloody bat at hand.

"Y'all it's a sham!! Crimsons in cohoots with Chaz!", he said in alarm as Millie and Pru help Blitzø up.

Millie angrily looked back to the taller imp in rage. "Blitzø what's going on here?!"

"THAT seductive d*ckhole is trying to marry mox and he isn't even rich!" he says suddenly Millie drops him to run towards Moxxie's rescue but was stopped by the houses defense system as it went to lockdown, Rizza hears alot cars rolling up behind them and Prudence could hear the chopping sound of helicopters above

"Boss, Millie, you two handle the affair in the back, me and Rizza got the front and what's above, get your man back Millie!" Prudence shouted says heading towards the roof and Rizza dawned a crazy look in her eyes as she runs to the driveway with a bat and some drugs in hand.

"LETS GO ALREADY FUCKERS!!!!," she shouts excitedly to the many cars rolled up with gun men

Blitzø grabbed the keys to Chaz's car and both he and Millie got inside, started the engine and turned on some ass kicking tunes. "Buckle up Millie we're doing a Shrek and Expendables!", he said in a badasstone as the car rams through the barricade hard and fast

Millie jumps out of the wreck. "You want my husband?! you're gonna have to fucking kill me!! and my girlfriends?" she stated eyes filled with ire than as soon as the first goon walked up Millie went supernova rampage as for Rizza who smiles wickedly at the group of cars and hitman "Who's up to the bat first?!" she shouts as one goon started letting out the led at her followed by more as the flying wreck debris lifted they saw that they didn't hit anyone or anything all looking around until some grunts or hurt were heard with the sound of a steel bat hitting against flesh and bone was roaring through the crowd "Go get your man Millie!!" she screams loudly as she kept swinging at goon after goon dodging the bullets and knives in a elated state thanks to her drugs

In the air was about 20 helicopters with gunner seats all aimed at the white spec on the room, revealing Pru who looks up at the machines like a hungry predator looking at her pray, she knew she couldn't fly up there so she had to get them to come to her and like she predicted she heard some other gunmen saying to get closer with a swift flip of the light of chamber she was gone before the bullet landed a mark and the men inside started panicking as flesh tearing sounds were heard as well as needing more backup the entire helicopter swaying around erratically from the lack of a polite the nearest chopper managed to get away from the collision, and were relieved until he felt a pair of strong and bloody hands started squeezing his head like a pimple revealing it to be Prudence with a look of murder on her face as the man's insides were now everywhere in the cockpit along with his gun she looks up at the rest who observed in horror than were getting killed off quickly and brutally.

Once Pru was done with the men inside the craft she uses her tail and acrobatics from the temple to use, seeing how far they are and how many there are in each "Like a pond hoping" she says to herself and jumps out of the hovering chopper, than grabs onto the bottom railing of the helicopter swinging herself upwards inside landing punch after counterpunch and blocking the bullets they shot using some of the body parts as shields, ripping a part of their guns into shards so she can stab them with, than uses the bullet shells as some explosives shoving them into their mouths than counts down to 6 and their necks along with heads explode, going onto the next crafts by air and agility of her body she makes quick use of her legs to stomp them all broken in bones and finish them with some krav maga technique that stops their hearts and made them cough up blood, she continues on in the air as Rizza was slaughtering the men by miles until she was down to the last three cars by shoving her bat into their mouths by force with barbed wire and rusty nails at the tip.

Rizza laughs psychotically "Let's batter up c*nts!! who else wants a taste of Rapture?!!??!" she yells from the top of her lungs as she was covered in black blood of her enemies and some entrails now became their out trails, men shooting left and right until they ran out of ammo then she attacks them full force with some car parts using them as battering rams against their heads until they exploded and uses some of her dancing moves to maneuver her way out of their hold then some dirty boxing meanwhile Crimson was in absolute fury at his men being carelessly and so easily by three women he doesn't know until the last of them were at Millie's, Pru, and Rizza mercy one dragging them to death, one flinging a decapitated head with a grenade inside into a car filled with five goons and one landing airborne on the ground by shooting a projectile of glass shards into the air of 40 feet above her making the pilot and last of his goons crash landing into the nearest building engulfed by flames all walking up to the alter with Millie showing how capable she is to massacre what's basically an army as well as her friends who are more then proficient to deal with thugs and gun men alike, seeing that he was out numbered and out of ammo he waves Millie off with Moxxie in her arms.

"Hey what about my we- Aaaghhcuf" he was silence buy the uh...questionable decorations he was laughing about lodged in his throat making Rizza laugh/

"This a$$ is mine!!" she said in a threatening tone smacking Moxxie's butt to show her dominance, than carried Blitzø in the other shoulder to the available chopper.

"By the way y'all should probably know Chaz isn't even rich, ok check his car, he just played you like a f**king rub! Lets roll Ladies!!" he said mocking them with the girls in tow behind, once they were inside Prudence said one more thing as Chaz was able to see and hear without struggle.

"By the way you should pray it's about the only thing you can f**king do when your alive RN! and you suck in the sack!! see you in h*ll!" she shouted giving him the finger, after a few hours of flight they all safely and hilariously made back to the office with the large hole in the wall than discarded the craft letting it crash into bits.

"Well despite the outcome of of the telenovela episode of Moxxies life I'd say we made a good impression on your pops!"

"Everyone and Millie thank you for saving me, you amazing Millie you girls too", Moxxie said in appreciation

Prudence nodded. "Just warn is next time if you have a family member who's a complete psychopath.."

"I can handle it", Millie said with confidence earning praises of her coworkers

Blitzø cuts in. "Well I'm glad everything ended up ok, good to know we both have daddy issues Mox, also I got to plow your ex boyfriend, well with Prunes help isn't that great, so now we all fucked the same guy", he said cheerfully gathering them all in a group hug/

Rizza and Pru got a notion their phone saying that a local heart-throb of Chaz Thurman was found murdered a few hours ago his teeth missing from the body/

Pru sighs. "And it looks like it was the last guy too, at least he died doing what he loved...," she said as the scene ends with them all smiling.

Rizza- @flare-friday

Prudence- @ynkaliko

#Hazbin

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the-royal-petals · 3 years ago

Text

A rookie mistake | Clint Barton x Reader

Description:

Someone seems to have forgotten to book a room with two beds. . .

Warnings: None

Note:

I tried my best with this! This is my first time writing for Clint so I hope this is okay <3 This is also posted on my ao3

You never found missions that challenging when Clint was around.

In fact, you preferred working with him than working with other avengers. He got straight to the point and got things done as quickly and as efficiently as possible; there was no wonder why he was favoured by Fury half of the time -- besides Natasha of course. Clint was the first person you met when you joined SHIELD, he became your SO (senior officer) and trained you. You advanced quickly and surpassed the majority of agents in your set; that advancement is what caught Fury's eye that decided to recruit you to Earth's mightiest heroes. Clint introduced you to Natasha and the other avengers; quickly, you became favoured by Natasha and Steve. You are resourceful and determined, willing to do whatever it takes. That's what Clint liked about you. . . you were honest and someone he couldn't take his mind off.

Since then, life couldn't've been any better.

Today, SHIELD set you on a task to retrieve a relic that HYDRA had stolen from the sorcerers. As much as you didn't understand why they couldn't do it themselves, you assumed they wanted you and Clint to get a 'wider range of threats to deal with.' Strange missions weren't unusual to you.

"Where did Fury say the relic was?" You asked Clint who read through the file again. The two of you sat in the back of a SHIELD truck.

"Outside that pizza place in downtown, there's an apartment lot which HYDRA took residence in," he handed the file to you, "it shouldn't be too hard to get in. There's a back exit we can slip through; one of our agents took out two of the guards so we shouldn't have too much trouble. Not like you will of course." Clint cracked a slight smile. His gaze lingered on you for a few moments. There was something about that look that made you want to just stare. . . it felt like home. Too bad you couldn't say anything right now.

Once the truck stopped, you jumped out of the car and marched towards the building. Just like Clint said, the guards were taken care of and tied up against a tree. Gags were forced into their mouths and radios smashed beside them. Two SHIELD agents stood either side of the agents, guns aimed at the HYDRA agents' heads, ready to end their lives at a moment's notice. The lampposts around you lit up the darkened alleyway where a SHIELD agent waved you and Clint over.

"Are they still inside?" Clint readied his bow.

"Yes sir. We haven't seen anyone leave yet, we advise you to be careful, they put up quite the fight." The agent warned.

You've dealt with feisty people before. This will be a piece of cake, right?

You entered the building and climbed the stairs, slowly and carefully. Each step creaked as you grew closer to the top of the stairs, each one sending a warning to the HYDRA agents above; and yet, nothing happened. Clint followed behind you, periodically checking the stairs. Number 20 was what you were looking for.

10. . .

11. . .

12. . .

14. . .

17. .

Bingo.

Clint stepped in front of you and checked the door handle, pressing down before letting go.

"You ready?"

You nod. "As ready as I'll ever be." You cocked your gun.

BANG.

Clint barged through the door and shot the first two HYDRA agents that peeked out of the door. You fired your pistol at one agent. They shot back. You ducked and pressed your back against the wall, the only thing shielding you from impending doom. Cocking your gun again, you shot the agent, just in time for Clint to push them to the ground and enter the apartment. His movements were smooth and precise, not one HYDRA agent escaped his attacks -- either they were pinned to the wall like a thumb tac or lifeless on the ground. Either way, it made your life much easier.

The apartment sounded like a warzone. Bullets and agents spawned from all over the place.

"These guys are like fucking cockroaches. For a relic you'd think it wouldn't be this guarded." You comment, grabbing an agent by their arm and twisting it behind their back, pushing them towards the wall before knocking them out.

"Right. These guys lose it if you call that doctor's 'cloak' a 'cape'. I done it once and I was sent through a looping portal for about ten minutes." Clint joked, "but whatever this thing is, we need to deal with it like any other mission." He shot another agent.

Then it got quiet.

Clint looked around the apartment, aiming his bow through the empty rooms before closing the door behind him. "I think that's it. Okay, Fury said it'll-"

"It'll be the large. . . very inconspicuous box in the middle of the room?" You remarked with sarcasm, making Clint snort.

"Well I'd say you're the relic, as you're priceless, but I don't think our mission is you today." He winked picking up the box and setting it on the nearby table. "This is Agent Barton, I've got the package. Where do you want it?"

"Keep a hold of it. Lay low for a couple of hours. We have SHIELD surrounding the building, it will be best if you stay there for now. Return to base in the morning."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Were they really going to make you sleep in this apartment you just broke into? Clint had to admit, it wasn't the weirdest place he had to sleep, he did once sleep in a mini-van with little to no room, so what was a dirty apartment going to do? This reminded you of the time Thor was forced to stay with Loki in the avengers tower; for the entirety of that night you were kept up with their constant arguing. It didn't help that you had a mission the day after. Clint was the saviour that day by letting you switch rooms with him.

You had thought about staying with Clint before. . . He was one of your closest friends, hell, you'd do anything for him. At this point, you even wondered if you considered him a friend. . . maybe more? Your thoughts never seemed to leave Clint alone.

"So bad news." Clint remarked peering into the bedroom before kicking it open for you to see. "Only one bed."

Oh no.

"I don't see the problem with that. If we stay on our own sides then we'll be fine, right?" You said, watching Clint shrug. Was he really that chill about it?

"Fine with me." A smile creeped onto his lips as he entered the room.

The bed was big enough for both of you, but small enough there were guarantees that you two would end up touching at some point. With anyone else, you'd be repulsed by the idea, but Clint? You were secretly waiting for it to happen.

Setting your jacket onto the chair, you take off the top layers of clothing, leaving the loose and baggy parts, enough to be able to sleep in. Unlike Clint who had taken his shirt up and was already engulfed by the bed. Closing the door, you sat on the edge of the bed. "I'll say it now, I'll probably end up trying to hug you during the night so. . . do you want to make a pillow wall so that doesn't happen?" You asked.

His face went to confusion, then realisation. "I don't really mind. You're welcome to cuddle if you really want," he winked, "I think it would be nice. This place has absolutely no heating."

This should be fun.

#clint #clint barton #reader #clintbarton x reader #one bed trope #one bed #marvel #one shot #ao3

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darksaiyangoku · 3 years ago

Text

RWBY Christmas Tales

Episode 2: Oscar x Rosemary-Jane: The Amazing Spider-Man

Snow was falling. All around him. Children playing. Having fun. 'Tis the season of love and understanding. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Oscar cheered as he swung around the Mistral City buildings. Swinging in the snow was a thrilling experience, he wished he could do it all day. However, crime doesn't stop in Mistral, even for Christmas and Oscar, being its friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man, wouldn't allow it to continue. Especially today. In the park, several members of the Qilin Gang gathered. Zipping to a nearby lampost, Oscar listened in on their conversation.

Qilin #1: Everything's all set up. I've got my cart ready with the egg tarts.

Qilin #2: Egg tarts? *raises eyebrow* What's so special about a few egg tarts?

Qilin #1: They're all laced with that new drug that's been kicking up a storm. *snickers* Hiding in plain sight, and if we each have a cart of our own, we'll be swimming in lien.

Qilin #2: Ah, I see. *grins sinisterly* The boss is definitely gonna enjoy this.

Spider-Man: On the contrary! *jumps down* I think he'd much prefer a nice, lovely roasted duck dinner.

Qilin #1: It's Spider-Man! *draws guns*

Spider-Man: Didn't anyone ever tell you that shooting people is a sure-fire way to land on the naughty list? *webzips guns*

Qilin #2: Don't just stand there! Get him!

Spider-Man: Well, have it your way then. Don't come crying to me when Nicholas gives you coal again this year.

The Qilin gang grabbed their weapons and attempted to stirke at Oscar. Thanks to his spidey-sense, the attacks were near useless. Oscar was practically dancing through their attacks, webzipping their weapons away and taking them down one by one. With their operation halted, Oscar called in his partner at the MCPD, Yuri.

Spider-Man: Hey there, Yuri. I have an early Christmas present for you; the Qilin gang all wrapped up.

Qilin gang: *struggling through the webs*

Yuri: Awww, you shouldn't have! I'll bring the chief with me and we can book them. I wish I had time to get you something.

Spider-Man: Working with you is the only gift I need. I'd love to stay and chat, but I got places to be.

Yuri: A dinner of roasted flies perhaps?

Spider-Man: Like I've never heard that one before. *chuckles* Later, Yuri!

Oscar leapt high and swung across the city. With the Qilin gang taken down, there was only one place left to go.

[Watson House]

Crimson: Hey, Rose! Dinner's almost ready!

Rosemary: Coming!

As she was about to leave, she heard a knock on the window. Turning around, she jumped with exicitement to see Oscar waving outside.

Rosemary: *opens the window* I was wondering when you were gonna get here. *laughs*

Oscar: Yeah, sorry about that. I had a run in with the Qilin.

Rosemary: Oh god.

Oscar: *shrugs* It's okay. They were actually much easier to deal with than the cashier. *pulls out a present from his pocket* Merry Christmas, Rose.

Rosemary: Aww, Oscar. *smiles* I love it! *hugs him*

Oscar: *smiles and hugs her back*

Crimson: *opens the door* Rose, come on. Dinner's- Oscar?

Rosemary/Oscar: Gah!!! *break apart*

Crimson: Hey man, when did you get here?

Oscar: I.. Uh... I just got here now, hehe.

Crimson: Really? I didn't hear you come in.

Oscar: Well, I... uh...

Crimson: Anyway, since you're here, join us for dinner. Dad's got the duck started.

Oscar: No, I couldn't impose.

Rosemary: Oh don't be silly, you're already here.

Oscar: But-

Rosemary: Too late. *drags him out*

Though unexpected, Oscar ended up having a wonderful evening. He got to meet his girlfriend's parents for the time, he played charades with her brother and even got to kiss her under the mistletoe... and then later tried to wrestle the camera out of Crimson's hands. All in all, it was the perfect Christmas for Mistral's Friendly, Neighbourhood Spider-Man.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby christmas tales #darksaiyangoku rwby christmas specials #oscar pine #rwby oc #rosemary jane watson #marvel #marvel au #canon x oc #oscar x rosemary #rosemary x oscar #oscar pine x rosemary jane watson #rosemary jane watson x oscar pine #spider man #avengers of remnant #rwby avengers of remnant

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real-fanta-sea · 4 years ago

Note

Hello!!💚😊 do you still write kiss requests?? For Trevor/Mike ship and can I request something for 'bury the hatchet' mission with 11 or 57 number? I really love to see how Trevor saves Michael so😍😱

Thank you!💗

Hi sweetie! I'm sorry it took me so long, but it's finally here! Find it under "keep reading". If you prefer AO3, click here to read the fic. tw mentions of violence, kissing, kinky old men

"Get the boyfriend!"

"The WHAT?" Michael huffed out, along with a small puff of fog, as he crouched behind a thumb stone that felt too small to shield him. Of all things, why would they think they were dating? Like, that were the signs? Can't two guys share a trailer, a bed, a shower, a coffee mug, cigarettes, whiskey bottles and take-out receipts without arising suspicion? Can't two consenting adults watch each other read a porn magazine while relieving stress? Is it a sign of marital status to carry someone over a threshold while high on... whatever was Trevor high on? Michael cringed inwardly as a bullet grazed the top of the stone and made the falling snowflakes find refuge on the back of his neck. There was no time to mull that over. The crunch of footsteps and angry commands closed in, and he had to act fast.

He did the math frantically. His pistol still had 16 bullets ready to be planted into the brains of whoever he aimed at. There was another full magazine in his jacket pocket. Good. Michael peered above the top of the stone, now chipped into a monstrous row of teeth. The silence has been ruptured by the sound of breaks. Judging by the urgent stomping, there were far more than 33 men to bury that night. Michael ducked and ran towards a statue of an angel reclining over another piece of stone, big enough to hide him under its sorrowful wings. Finally able to stretch out, he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. He remembered the last time he had to fight off so many people and cursed when he shot a look back towards Brad's grave. At that time, there was no blanket and a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. At that time, dance macabre was all too real for comfort. But it was not a time to die; he convinced himself. Not in the freezy shithole called North Yankton. Not without a fight.

Just when he peered over the side of the sculpture, the world around him slowed down into a strange state of blue trance. He shot four men in a matter of seconds, retreated to his cover, and resurfaced again behind a different piece of stone. All he could feel was a stinging sensation on his face as he collapsed with snowflakes, a soft crunch of virgin snow below his feet mixed with the recoil of the gun in his hand, going off in time with the rhythm of his heart. He wouldn't have minded if the state of focus and tranquillity remained his primary state of being. To be faster than others, not feeling the bullets licking skin and flesh off of his body, killing without remorse - he missed such balance in his retired life.

Not many voices filled the graveyard when Michael finally threw his pistol away and snatched a gun from a random unlucky henchman whose blood was rapidly cooling on the ground. The relative silence unnerved him. The math didn't add up, and even when he cracked his neck again to relieve some of the pressure, the popping sound didn't fill the space enough to be comfortable again. Only when he ascended from the aisle, ducking, eyes darting all over the dark place, he noticed how fast he was breathing and that his hands were shaking.

Fuck it, he thought to himself, that one extra burger, coke and pizza every now and then, when he couldn't sleep, did hurt after all. Maybe Mandy was right to nag at him for smoking too. Before he could make an oath to himself to start exercising once he got away from the situation. Before he could even turn around in awe, the bushes behind his back rustled and gave birth to a furious Chinese man. The newborn didn't spare a second to hit the back of Michael's head with something Mike later identified as the butt of his gun and knocked the dumbfounded Michael unconscious.

It didn't take long for Michael to wake up, but the world was swirling around him into a smudged black-eye blue mush, and it reeked of puke. There was a horrible echo of voices nagging in his throbbing head, and it took a lot of him to recognize two twitching shadows dragging him through the muddy snow. For a split second, he felt weightless as the shadows threw him inside a gaping black space and the thunder of the van door being shut made him shriek in pain.

For what felt like an eternity, his existence was reduced to watching a streak of orange light running towards his chest and vanishing before it reached his head. Michael scrutinized the small cut out in the wall that divided his dark cell and the cockpit of the van and marvelled at the sounds emerging with every blink of the orange light. The slight rocking of the vehicle only served to make him more nauseated in between his scattered thoughts. Why haven't they killed him was among the first coherent questions his brain was capable of producing. Why would they want him alive? The light blinked away rapidly and brought about the noise of radio static and two voices fighting over what frequency to tune in. Get the boyfriend. Why was the question coming back then?

Michael groaned as the deafening sound of Channel X pinned him to the ground again. Boyfriend. He recognized the music. He remembered. They thought Trevor would pay whatever price they demanded in exchange for his safety. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he didn't try to stop it for a change. How they could still think that after witnessing their bickering at Brad's grave, Michael wasn't entirely sure. What he knew with paralyzing certainty was that no one was coming to save him, and it was Trevor's fault. In between the blinks of light and throbbing pain, his memories ran back to the moment Brad unknowingly shielded Trevor as it often did in the past ten years and wished once again Dave either pulled the trigger a second later or aimed for Michael's head.

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or thankful when screeching breaks interrupted his daydreaming session. Judging by the high-pitched angry Chinese, they either had some very unfortunate flat tyre, or they ran into trouble. Or, which was something Michael didn't want to think about, they arrived at their lair and discussed the best way to make a chop suey from his guts. He shifted slightly, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts his mind offered him. It did him no good to think about alternate universes where all his problems were gone, and he was roasting under Los Santos sun by his pool.

The sliding door opened, and Michael was immediately hit into the face with a sluggish white light and smell of iron. Just one glance at the tiles plastered all over the walls, hooks idly clinging in the draft, and he knew exactly where they were. A shiny tray with a handsaw grinned right back at him from the centre of silhouettes of men. Oh god, he was so screwed. So fucked over. He made a mental note to kick Trevor in the balls when... IF... he sees him again. A pair of hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him out of the car, his head bouncing off the ground when it hit ice-cold concrete. Michael shivered. Was it really all there was for him? Would the famous Michael Townley, the phantom of the north, end up minced into Flormart burgers? A curse escaped his lips when he imagined the limp, tasteless slice of pickle and an unnaturally orange slice of cheese tiredly melting on his flesh in someone's microwave. He could withstand any torture but that.

"Hey you, you are awake, aren't you?"

Michael winced inwardly and squinted his eyes against the bright light. "Oh, am I? I didn't know! Are you a doctor or something?"

There was a prompt leathern shoe planted into his face. Michael hissed upon contact, the smell of cheap shoe glue imprinting into his memory. So much for a well-meant, friendly sarcasm.

"Ok, I got it. I'll shut up."

"You better should, pig!" There were several snorts around him, obscured by the bright light. Michael's cheek throbbed. If he was a pig about to be made into bacon strips, he swore to take them with him. The guy who kicked him circled around like a shark.

"Now, tell me. Where does your boyfriend keep the drugs?"

Michael just snickered and shrugged as best as his tied arms allowed. The shadows stepped closer, towering above him. He felt another kick; this time, the shoe bit into his ribs, making him hiss.

"ANSWER!"

A pair of hands yanked him onto his knees. The floor crushed into them, a painful reminder he should have picked up yoga when his wife told him so.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The sole of the shoe pushed into the middle of his back, stretching his muscles to their capacity. Michael's forehead was pearled with sweat. He could barely breathe. Any further, and he was sure he would throw up.

"Do you think we are stupid?"

The pressure worsened. Michael gasped for air.

"We've seen him carry you over the threshold, and we know from a reliable source you share the bed with him,"

A picture of Ron shaking in the middle of a hostile office, surrounded by the same shadows, flashed through Michael's mind before he blinked it away. Another mental note was taken. Kick Ron's balls right after kicking Trevor's.

"AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO CLAIM YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE KEEPS HIS ASSETS WHEN WE KNOW YOU SQUAT ON HIS DICK EVERY NIGHT???"

"Believe it or not," Michael gasped and tried to turn just enough to look the bastard who stepped on him in the eye, "I don't know anything. Oh, and it's not me who squats; I am more of the top kind of guy."

It occurred to Michael the Chinese guy who led the interrogation had a strange sense of symmetry because before he knew it, he had another pulsating bruise spread over the other side of his ribs. He wanted to think the remark was worth it, even though his body told him otherwise.

"Hang that fag on a hook - let's see if he remembers with more blood in his brain."

For a second, Michael panicked. There were too many hands grabbing and groping him, turning him, and he remembered how he, as a little boy watched spiders do just that with flies in their webs, both horrified and fascinated. He has always considered himself a spider in such situations. Oh, how the turntables! He now was the fly, and the spider was walking away.

"HEY, WAIT!"

The hands kept him floating in the air, and the man stopped in his path, turning around.

"Hm? What is it?"

Michael's eyes rounded, even though he desperately tried to fight the trepidation. "You are terribly wrong about this. I am not his boyfriend, just an acquaintance. I have no idea how you guys are affiliated, but whatever this is about, it all runs down to money, right?"

The man folded his arms on his chest slowly, visibly taking pride in Michael's panic, but his thin lips kept shut.

"I'll pay you if you release me. Generous money, actually. That's what you guys want, right? That's what everybody wants."

The man took a few steps closer, right under one of the beaming tube lights. Michael gulped when he saw the grin on his handsome face. It took him a surprisingly low effort to come close to Michael and grab his jaw in a vice grip.

"Have your whining ever worked on anyone?"

Michael shook his head ever so slightly. He got a shark-like grin in response.

"What we want is to know where your lover, Trevor Phillips, keeps his merchandise and take what is contractually, thus rightfully ours. Tell us, and maybe we will let you go."

His eyes were as black as Trevor's when Michael last saw them, yet there was no shadow of affection in these. The man who looked at him was by all means already dead inside. The hand slipped away from his jaw, but Michael could still feel where his new friend left purple imprints.

"I thought so. Never mind, after the night spent upside down, I hope your point of view will change. HANG HIM!"

All of a sudden, there was a roar of an engine from somewhere above. Michael tried to locate the sound, but it glided away, much to his captors' disdain. There was a cacophony of stomping and foreign words bouncing off the walls, mixing in with the cry of sliding door and hum of the engine coming back.

"HEY!"

His voice was too weak against the noise. No one noticed him twitching; no one cared he was still there.

"HEY, MOTHERFUCKERS, WHAT'S GOING ON!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was the answer from one of the men, along with a sting of a gunstock on his eye. Michael didn't need answers anymore, though, as the barking of shots and cries of mowed down men crept through the open door. Not so silently, he cursed Trevor for dragging him right into the middle of mafia wars, something he had no desire to see up close. Leaving him in the graveyard alone with a mob? One kick in the balls. Letting them kidnap him and hang him like a piece of ham? Two kicks in the balls. Letting the mafia kill him in a shoot out? Thousands of years of haunting Trevor and another kick in the balls as soon as they both reincarnate. Gunshots from outside closed in on him.

Michael tried to break free from the ropes but only managed to swing back and forth.

"Oh FUCK, I'm going to KILL HIM! YOU'RE SO DEAD, TREVOR!"

"MICHAEL!"

At first, Michael thought he was hearing things. In his state of panic, his brain couldn't get a grip of how the hell Trevor knew where to find him, let alone come and rescue him after he almost shot him. Then he thought that some kind of vessel must have busted in his head, for the familiar voice was accompanied by an even more familiar tall outline topped by a crown of ruffled dark brown hair. He couldn't help but blink rapidly a couple of times, dumbfounded in the middle of the slaughterhouse.

"JESUS, MIKEY!!!"

There were rushed steps, a sound of a gun falling to the ground, followed by two trembling hands cupping his face. Michael closed his eyes and relied on other senses to confirm his suspicion. First, there was a smell of late-night coffees, morning cigarettes, diesel fuel and cheap soap he bought for Trevor not so long ago. Second, there were two big hands, fingers brushing around the edges of his bruises in a way they did years ago when they both were different people, but somehow they did remember how to soothe him. Third, there was a deep-set voice trembling with worry whispering his name. And finally, when Michael opened his eyes again, there were the amber eyes, glazed, terrified and hurt. There was no doubt anymore. Trevor came back for him.

"Oh god, I was so fucking afraid!"

Michael couldn't keep angry when faced with the first shy tears welling in Trevor's eyes, but his ability to speak left him as they fell down and disappeared into the blackness of Trevor's shirt. So instead, he let Trevor's hands caress him, oddly at peace with the gentle touch on his face.

"To think I almost lost you again!" Trevor bit his lip. Something about the droplet of blood blooming under his teeth left Michael breathless. "I was so angry, infuriated much, yes, but then I imagined you laying there with Brad and..."

Trevor gazed into Michael's eyes with such urgency it immediately reminded him of their first kill. The fear mixed in with the red gleam in his eyes, the sense of irreparable, coming back from the past to haunt them. Lost in thought, Michael didn't register the swift movement right in front of him and was caught by surprise by a feeling of having his lips pressed against Trevor's.

They were hot, trembling, and tasted of cigarettes and blood, a mixture Michael desperately tried to forget about. Where they first gently touched his, as if they couldn't believe he was still alive and well, they pressed harder in mere seconds, making Michael's eyes flutter shut. It was difficult for him to admit, but Trevor's lips were the only drug Michael craved for long and lonely ten years. For once, he let his nagging reason get hushed by the shy movement of Trevor's lips, and all the hatred slipped his mind momentarily.

At length, Trevor broke the kiss, and still holding onto Michael's cheeks, he gently propped his forehead against Michael's. Michael let him take a break, listening to his shallow breathing, and their thoughts were buzzing almost audibly where their skin touched.

"Oh god, to think I almost lost you..."

"It's ok, T; I'm still hanging on."

"Yeah, but what if I didn't turn around and follow that convoy? What if they killed you?"

"You could say I would hang around for a bit, and then they would kick me out."

Trevor raised his head and furrowed a bit. "What's that with you and emphasize on hanging?"

Michael raised eyebrows at him and waited till the realization would dawn on Trevor. It took three seconds for Trevor's eyes to round and his mouth to form a perfect 'o'.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I see. Wait a moment, sugar."

Michael's feelings on Trevor holding a knife were usually on the border between panic and deep fucking rooted urge to run for the hills. When Trevor approached him and swung it around his face, Michael was momentarily inclined to the second option, twitching nervously under the cold gleam of the knife. Trevor eyed him with palpable exhaustion.

"Stop wiggling goddammit, do you want to get cut?"

Michael pouted at him.

"Hey, don't give me THAT face, pork chop! It wasn't MY idea to tie you up and hook you here!"

Trevor's knife slowly cut through ropes, murmuring as it bit through thick threads. The very tip brushed against Michael's leg, leaving goosebumps in the wake of its cold touch.

"But I have to say this is kinda hot, eh?" Trevor's grin was back, the brightest light in the room. "How about we try it again when we get back home?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about, Trevor?"

Trevor leant in, still grinning, his knife gliding against Michael's waist.

"I mean, I will send Patricia shopping,"

The knife dipped lower, slipping under Michael's shirt. He gasped, inwardly cursing for giving Trevor the tiniest bit of gratification.

"then I'll take some nice silk rope,"

The dull side of the blade ran through chest hair lush between trembling peaks of his nipples.

"tie you up and make some sweet, sweet love to you, cupcake!"

Trevor's lips were so close, his breath on Michael's lips again, who was petrified with anticipation. His heart hammered against the patch of goosebumps on his chest, and if the last bit of rope didn't snap and let him slide off the hook, Michael would have leaned in himself and stole that kiss. But, instead of the sweet release, he was sent to the cold ground head first, folding like a rag doll upon impact.

Not only Michael sustained another hit on his head, swearing and kicking around, not unlike the turtle Amanda bought for the kids and that he and Jimmy used to torture by putting it on its back, laughing about the way it tried to turn over, but it was Trevor who was laughing his lungs out, folded in half. Michael tried to stab him with a menacing glare, but it didn't help in the slightest. Gathering the last shred of strength, Michael scraped to his feet and balling fists full of Trevor's jacket, he threw them both against deadly green tiles.

Trevor's laugh died out soon after the impact, but the grin remained despite Michael pinning him down. At first, Michael's intention was to beat him up, partially to let the frustration out, partially to get revenge for the stolen kiss, but he was taken aback when Trevor's hands closed over his fists and squeezed gently.

"Whatcha gonna do, Mikey?" Trevor uttered in an irresistibly husky voice that sent shivers of excitement to all the wrong places, "Beat me for saving your life?" Michael growled.

"You fucking..." but the words he wanted to say got sucked back into the vortex of emotion running free in his ribcage. No, beating wasn't what Michael's mind supplied him with when it came to what to do with Trevor. He could barely resist the vivid pictures of Trevor, hair running down his slender back, undressing in front of him, leaving marks on his neck and long scratches speaking volumes about how Michael liked to celebrate their victories. And then, on that day, Trevor was there. Older, but just as tempting, daring, enclosing Michael in the smell of both freedom and slavery with each exhale. Michael took a deep breath. He couldn't help but give in to the craving.

Trevor yelped when Michael crashed his lips with his so hard their teeth clinked together. That was the thrill he wanted to relive, and as soon as Trevor's hands rested against his lower back, pulling him closer, Michael surged deeper and dared to brush his tongue against Trevor's. The choked moan he managed to draw out fueled his fingers in their haste, letting go of fabric and instead bury themselves into Trevor's hair, pulling him closer. Trevor's skin could have combusted any second with the heat it emitted, and Michael couldn't resist yanking him closer, eager to get burned once again.

"Mikey... Jesus Christ!"

Trevor could barely breathe, so much Michael could tell by the heaving of chest caught between the wall and his own body. He was proud of the trembling in Trevor's touch, of shallow breaths and flushed cheeks right in front of him. He still got it.

"What?" Michael grinned impishly and let one of his hands slide down Trevor's back and squeeze him. Trevor yelped in surprise but didn't try to wriggle out of the embrace and even giggled when Michael let his hand rest there. Trevor leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down Michael's spine as it touched his ear.

"Let's go home, cupcake."

#trikey #gta 5 #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic #kiss prompts

28 notes · View notes

honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Handicapped Parking

Pairing: Javier Peña/disabled Reader

Word Count: 2,992

Warnings: Reader is wheelchair bound, canon-typical violence, nightmares, small bit of angst, one use of (F/N) (L/N).

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Javier could not believe what he was seeing. A handicapped parking spot at the embassy. Who the hell worked at the US embassy and for the DEA that was disabled enough to need handicapped parking? You, that’s who. The brand new recruit and official partner for Steve and Javier, you are about to be hell on wheels for those two boys.

Javier Peña had never seen anything like what he was seeing now. A handicapped spot right in front of the building with a car parked in it. A new car that hadn’t been there yesterday. As Javier parked, he eyed the spot. Who the hell chose a job like this if they were disabled? Best anyone could do was paperwork, and that was mind numbing.

Javier almost forgot about it as he walked into the building, greeting the same people he did every morning. Steve was at his desk, hunched over some new paperwork, and he looked up when Javier walked in. “Hey, Javi. Check this out. We have a new partner.”

“Hm?” Javier lit a cigarette. It was too early for this.

A paper was pushed across the desk. “Yeah. Hired yesterday. Meant to keep us in check.”

Javier snorted, reading over the papers. “This says,” he said, looking up at Steve. “This says they’re disabled.”

“So what if I am?”

You had just come back from a very frustrating bathroom break to find your other new partner standing at his desk. You rolled forward, holding out a hand. “(F/N) (L/N), DEA.”

Javier shook your hand and introduced himself. You slotted you and your wheelchair into your desk, which was perpendicular to Steve’s and Javier’s. “So, anything new?”

Steve explained everything they knew and what their current goal was, and you raised an eyebrow.

“He’s in prison,” you pointed out. “Why are we trying to disrupt that.”

“We want his ass in a real prison,” Javier grumbled without looking up from his typewriter. “Not that palace he calls a jail.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, looking over the terms and conditions of the surrender. “So we prove he’s violating these terms. Easy.”

Steve shrugged. “Not as easy as it sounds. Cigarette?”

You wrinkled your nose at the offered cigarette. “I don’t smoke.”

“Okay. One less person I gotta share with,” Steve said, holding his cigarette out to Javier, who picked up his lighter and lit it all without looking up.

The three of you worked in silence for a while. You managed to go through four pots of coffee before three PM, which would’ve been only mildly concerning. However, you and Steve each only had maybe a pot and a half between you. Javier drank the other two and a half pots. So it was mildly concerning for you and Steve, and pretty damn concerning for Javier.

“Jesus I don’t know how your heart hasn’t given out yet,” you said when Javier went back for his seventh or maybe eighth cup of coffee.

“This is a light day for him,” Steve said, looking up when someone placed a piece of paper on his desk. “Usually he’ll have three pots and I’ll have one. He doesn’t sleep much.”

You made a face, putting new paper into your typewriter. Javier came back with his coffee cup and immediately groaned upon seeing Steve reading the paper. “Who wants us to do what?”

Steve chuckled. “You remember that pigeon coup? They want us to stake it out.”

Another groan, this time a bit louder. You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from laughing while looking expectantly at Steve. “Can I see?”

Steve handed you the paper and you read it over. “Well. I guess that solves our violating the terms problem.”

The stakeout was to last as long as it had to, and as you pulled up to the prison before dawn on one warm morning, you immediately knew this would be hell. Steve and Javier took turns waiting outside while you sat in the car, your typewriter in your lap. Your window was open and you occasionally handed the boys whatever they needed from inside the car.

Finally, when the sun began to crest the hills, you braved the outside. Strapping your crutches to your arms, you swung your legs out and slowly made your way across the grass.

“I thought you couldn’t walk.” Javier said as soon as you were standing beside him.

“I can,” you promised. “Car accident. Left me paralyzed, but with lots of therapy, I was able to regain some of my legs. I just prefer the chair because no matter what, my legs won’t support my weight for more than a few steps. When I walk I use crutches and braces to keep my knees, ankles, and waist stable.”

Steve whistled, handing Javier a thermos. “I’ve never seen crutches like that before.”

“Gutter crutches.” You watched Javier take one sip of the coffee and immediately pour the rest of it out onto the ground. “Mostly for long term work. Is that a pigeon?”

Steve turned and Javier raised his gun. Three wasted shots later, and you were scoffing. “Damn. You’re a shit shot Peña.”

“Think you can do better?”

You took the gun, abandoning your crutches and catching the next pigeon in your sight. Your legs wavered, but you locked your knees and tried to stay steady. “I got it.”

“Shoot.”

You waited, ignoring Javier.

“Shoot!”

Again, you waited until the perfect moment before shooting and killing the pigeon in one shot.

Steve smiled, taking the gun from you. “Ever been duck hunting?”

Javier watched him jog after the pigeon. “No, I’ve not been duck hunting you fucking hillbilly.”

You wavered, falling flat on your ass as your knees gave out. “Damn these legs!” You swore, grabbing your discarded crutches and strapping them to your arms. By the time you’d finally struggled to your feet, Steve was back with the pigeon.

“Thanks for the help,” you said sourly at Javier, who had simply watched you grapple upright.

“In my experience,” he said in an equally cool tone. “People like you don’t need much help. I’m sure all I would’ve gotten was a crutch to the knee for my help.”

You glared at him while he read the small letter tied to the pigeon’s leg. God you hated that man.

The next few months were odd. You fell into a rhythm with Steve and Javier. Neither underestimated you anymore, and finally, they learned exactly where your boundaries lay with help. Steve had a bruise on his leg for two straight weeks after you whacked him with your crutch when he asked if you needed help shooting a gun (you most definitely did not) and Javier only ever gave you help when he noticed you struggling. Like when some new intern put the coffee mugs too high for you to reach without standing up and Javier had, very kindly, silently handed you your mug. He did a lot of things silently, usually with that scowl on his face.

“We got a call,” Steve said one day, poking his head into your office space, if it could even be called that. “Let’s go!”

You groaned, standing and hearing your back pop four times as you followed Steve out, your crutches clicking on the linoleum as you headed to the waiting Jeep.

“Why’s Javi driving?” You asked as you got into the back. “I get so carsick when he drives!”

Javier gave you a look in the rearview mirror. “Strap in sugar.”

You rolled your eyes. None of you wore seatbelts. You just didn’t have time for it. So instead, you simply gripped the back of Steve’s seat while Javier drove like a maniac towards your destination.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you grumbled as you got out of the car, shaking off the car sickness and looking around. Nothing seemed very out of the ordinary aside from the cop cars surrounding a particular building. “Who’s in there?”

“We don’t know,” Steve said, helping you with your tac vest. “Whoever it is, they’re worth the cavalry.”

Half of your job was waiting, which was hell. You stood leaned up against Steve, trying to keep your weight off your aching back. As the minutes ticked by, you talked to one of the younger cops who’d been left outside. He was sweet, teaching you a few Spanish phrases and smiling when you butchered them.

So of course, when the man you were trying to catch raced out of the building, wildly firing his gun, the young cop got a bullet to the back of the head.

“Shit!” You yelled, looking around as the man raced off. You yanked your crutches off your arms and gestured to Javier. “Come on!”

Javier was on your heels as you ran, trying to steady your feet and knees. Your hips and lower back screamed, but you just kept going, relying entirely on your braces to support you.

Eventually, the stress became too much. Two blocks down, your legs stopped working, sending you screaming to the ground, wildly throwing your hands out to catch yourself before you broke your nose on something. Thankfully, the road was long and flat, so as soon as you righted yourself, you raised your gun and shot the guy in the shoulder.

He went down, clutching his shoulder in pain while you breathed heavy, dragging your limp lower half over to the wall of a building, leaning against the worn down brick.

“Hey,” Javier said, coming to stand in front of you. “You ran.”

“I ran,” you agreed, holding your left knee as it twitched. “That’s a week and a half of chair time, straight. Fuck.”

Javier sat beside you, watching cops run past to grab the man you’d been chasing. “You want help back?”

You snorted. “Javi, I won’t make it three steps like this.” To demonstrate, you attempted to haul yourself upright and almost immediately hit the pavement, hissing sharply as you came down harder than intended.

“So.” Javier looked you up and down. “Is that a no?”

“Yeah that’s a no.” You stared at the sky, feeling your stomach twist. “Y’know what I want? A cup of tea. I haven’t had one in a while.”

Javier shrugged. “I’ve got a really good tea at my apartment,” he said. “My mother mails me some once a month. You’re bleeding.”

You looked down at your hands, finally noticing the ragged scrapes across your palms from when you’d fallen. “Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“How’d you not notice?” Javier asked, taking your hands and digging through his pockets. “We can disinfect it for real back at the office, but for now,” he said, producing a small roll of gauze from his pocket. “This will have to do.”

You sat still while Javier bandaged your hands. By then, the street had been completely cleared, and you were looking for Steve.

“He’s probably waiting in the car,” Javier said, finishing up on your hands. “We’re gonna have to go to him.” He looked hesitantly at your legs. They’d stopped twitching, but they were still completely useless. “Got any ideas?”

“Unless you wanna carry me,” you said with a sigh. “It’d probably be easiest to call Steve.”

Javier stood, crouching down in front of you. “Can you get on?”

It took some maneuvering and a bit of heavy lifting on Javier’s part, but eventually, you were being carried back to the Jeep, arms slung over Javier’s shoulders and him gripping your legs as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“Comfy?” He asked, and you chuckled.

“Mhm. Totally not in horrible pain,” you replied, feeling yet another stab of discomfort hit your back.

Javier was quiet for a minute before speaking again. “Why’d you come here? No offense, but you’re not exactly fit for the job.”

“Like I got to pick this,” you said, leaning to cheek against Javier’s shoulder. “I was reassigned. I never asked to come down here.”

Another long beat of silence, and then, “I’m sorry.”

“Nah. It’s fine,” you promised. “Just a bit stressful sometimes.”

Eventually, the car came back into view, and Steve rushed over to meet you, your crutches in his hand. “What were you thinking?”

“Chase the bad guy,” you said, smiling as Javier turned around and put you down in the car. “Really, I wasn’t. I just went.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve said, ever the voice of reason. “Don’t do that again. You scared me.”

The drive back to the office was quiet. Javier had to carry you inside the building, and Steve found a hot water bottle to press against your back. Javier finished properly treating your hands while Steve filled the water bottle with water from the kettle.

“Really, a hot bath will probably help the most,” you said, putting the hot water bottle in between your back and the chair you used whenever you didn’t need your wheelchair. “But this’ll do for now.”

Your night was late, as it always was. You weren’t attempting to leave the building until well past ten PM, and when you tried to stand, Javier put a hand on your shoulder. “Nope.”

“No?” You said, surprised. “Let me up Javi, unless you want a crutch to the ankle.”

Javier didn’t move. Instead, he scooped you up in a bridal carry, causing you to squeak indignantly. “Javier!”

“Yes?”

“Put me down! I am more than capable of walking myself to your car!”

Javier shrugged as best he could while carrying you. “You had me piggyback you two blocks earlier and you couldn’t get up all day to get your own coffee. I’m carrying you to the car.”

You pouted, but realized that squirming would only serve to hurt you and probably Javier as well, so you remained still as Javier placed you in his car.

The drive home was, as with most things Javier did, quiet. When he pulled up to the building, you made him go into your apartment across the hall from his and grab your wheelchair. When he came back, you smacked him away when he tried to help you into it.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, feeling your back pop painfully. “Fuck.”

“C’mon,” Javier said softly, handing you back our crutches so you could put them across your lap. “I believe I promised you tea.”

You sighed. “Javi, I wanna go home.”

Javier nodded. “I’ll bring it to you. How’s that sound?”

At the notion that Javier would be coming to your apartment, you sighed and gave in. “Fine. I’ll leave it unlocked.”

Ten minutes after you’d gotten settled on your couch, Javier came into your apartment, carrying two cups of tea. He set one down on your coffee table and kept the other in his hands. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually,” you said, reaching and grabbing the mug. “Painkillers are my new best friend.”

Javier sat down on the couch. “You know you could ask to be sent home,” he said. “They’d probably do it.”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you or Steve anymore.”

“That’s what’s keeping you here? Me and Steve?”

You nodded. “Javi, before this, no one would even look at me. I was disabled and trying to work in law enforcement. You and Steve treat me like a capable adult, and people actually listen to what I have to say now.”

Javier was quiet. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You took a sip of your tea, smiling. “This is good.”

“Custom blend,” Javier said. “Mamá always insisted it could cure anything.”

You smiled. “You tell her to mail some extra if she can. It’s amazing.”

You and Javier sat in your living room until midnight, drinking tea and swapping work stories. Finally, when you began to yawn, Javier stood. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Aww,” you groaned, pulling your wheelchair closer. “But I was having so much fun.”

Javier smiled as you sat in your wheelchair and headed towards your bedroom. “Need anything before I go?”

You nodded. “Yeah, actually. Can you help me into bed? When my back hurts a lot it’s kind of hard to haul myself into bed.”

“Sure.”

Between you and Javier, you were able to slide into bed, immediately feeling weary. “Javi?”

“Hm?” Javier turned, standing in your doorway. “What is it?”

You fidgeted nervously. “Stay? Please? I’ve started having nightmares recently and they really scare me.”

Javier nodded. “Okay. Let me grab my pyjamas, I’ll be right back.”

By the time Javier had returned, you were half asleep. He waved to you and settled down on your couch, likely not falling asleep, but you sure as hell did.

It was early morning, before sunrise but well after midnight, that you woke up, breathing heavy and immediately starting to cry. The shattered pieces of your nightmare were practically gone now, leaving you with nothing but jitters, a looming sense of dread, and the image of blinding headlights in your brain.

“Hey,” a gentle voice said, and you jumped, heart pounding before you remembered you’d asked Javier to spend the night. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. No point in trying to lie to him. He could see you crying.

Javier slid into the bed with you, pulling you close and letting you cry into his shirt. When you were spent of tears, he continued to rub your back, his warmth seeping into your skin. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t remember much,” you admitted. “I think.” You had to force your words out, your throat pulling tight. “I think I dreamed I was in the car accident.”

Javier was quiet. “You’re fine,” he promised after a beat. “Hey, you hear me?”

You nodded, wondering when you’d begun to shake.

“You’re safe here,” Javier said. “Safe as can be.”

“I trust you,” you said softly, still buried in Javier’s shirt. “Trust you a lot,” you mumbled, yawning widely and feeling your eyes blink shut.

“I think you need more sleep,” Javier said softly, helping you lay back down. “Agent’s orders.”

You smiled, the sick feeling in your stomach sliding away. “Mhm. Stay with me Agent Peña.”

Javier lay down beside you, pulling you close. “If you insist.”

For the first time in a long time, both of you slept fitfully, cradled in each other’s arms.

#narcos #Javier Pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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icyberriies · 4 years ago

Text

Forbidden Love

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom’s in love with you, the only problem is you’re dating his best friend.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Language, unedited

A/N: This is a repost from an all account.

↓↓↓

“I swear to fucking god, I can’t get her out of my head.” Tom swore, shooting at the clay pigeons being launched into the sky.

“What do you mean?” his brother, Harry, asked.

“I mean. I go to bed, she’s on my mind. I wake up, she’s on my mind. I’m beating information out of a dickhead, guess fucking what, she’s on my fucking mind. It’s driving me insane.” He sighed, chucking his gun onto the table.

“If you need to, take some time. Travel somewhere. Cross something off your bucket list.” Harry said, earning an eye roll and a huff from his brother.

“I don’t have a bucket list and I don’t want to go anywhere.” Tom snapped. “I want to stop thinking about her.”

“I get that Tom, I really-“

“No you don’t.” Tom interrupted. “You don’t get it. You don't get what’s it’s like to be in love with your best mate’s girlfriend.”

“Shit!” Harry exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were in love with her.”

“Well, I am. Fuck! What do I do?” He shouted.

“Take a break. You’re never going to get over her if you’re constantly around her.”

“But I don’t want to not see her. I want to see her everyday, preferably in my bed in the mornings. If this is all I can get then I’ll take it.”

“This isn’t going to be good for you, Tom.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you think that’s best.”

-----

You arched your back, the muscles stretching in the right way. You rolled over, curling back into Harrison’s side.

“Morning, love.’ He spoke. You only mumbled in response. ‘I forgot you weren’t a morning person.” He chuckled before gently rolling you back over so he could get up.

“I’ve got to go to work. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.’ You sighed. ‘Tom will be here right?” He hummed in agreement. ‘Then I’ll be fine, baby.”

“Ok. Let me know if Tom gets on your nerves.” He teased.

“I will.” You giggled, pulling the duvet over your head.

Three hours passed when a piercing ring echoed around the room. You pressed the answer button and brought the phone up to your ear, without looking at the ID.

“Hello?” Your voice came out a lot more croaky than you expected so you cleared your throat.

“We need you in your office as soon as possible.” The voice crackled through.

“Why? It’s saturday.” You whined.

“Because we have someone who may know something about the Smith double homicide and robbery.” He answered.

“Oh shit! I’m on my way.” You hung up and got out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and one of Harrison’s hoodies. You grabbed a snack from the kitchen and left the house.

When you got to the office, you were given a run down from the head of the security and ushered into the room.

A half hour later you were annoyed beyond belief.

“For fucks sake,” you cried, “Just tell me where it is.”

“Never.” The guy spat.

“Dude.” You sighed. “You’re tied to a chair and you have blood dripping down your face and you think you have the upper hand in this situation. Are you insane?”

“Probably but you still need to try a lot harder than this to get me to talk.”

“What is it that will get you to talk? Everyone has that weak spot, the thing that gets them to crack. What’s yours?” You asked, running the blade over his thigh, not hard enough to cut.

“You’ll never know.” He hissed.

“Hmmmmm. I wouldn’t be too sure. Take him to the cells.” You instructed the men standing by the door.

“You're too pussy to do anything, huh?”

“No.” You stepped closer to him. “I want you to go crazy from the anticipation. Get him out of my sight.”

You watched the security team drag him out the room, as you wipe your hands clean. Satisfied that no one was nearby, you threw your knife at the wall, the blade getting stuck in the wall.

“Fuck sake.”

“You might want to be careful, darling.” You knew that voice anywhere.

“Hi Tommy,’ You missed the way his breath hitched at the nickname, ‘Could you grab that for me?” You asked, gesturing to the knife in the wall. You took a second to really look at him, noticing the way his shoulders were slightly hunched and he had a far away look in his warm brown eyes.

He blinked slowly at you, reminding you of an owl, “Pardon?”

“The knife? Could you get it for me please?” He nodded and pulled it out of the wall, handing it back to you. You looked up, noticing the close proximity between the two of you.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“No problem, darling.” Fuck. Why did your heart speed up at that and why were you suddenly nervous.

“I’ve got to go.” You said, wanting to escape the situation.

“Of course,” He stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck. Why did you find that adorable? You got to the door before he spoke up again. ‘Hold up! Will I see you at the party tonight?”

“Of course, Tommy. Harrison’s going so I will too.” Right. Harrison. Your boyfriend.

“Oh right. I’ll see you later.” He sighed.

“Of course.” You left quickly after that.

Later at the party, Harrison had left you by the bar to talk to someone or other, you kinda zoned out when he told you. You were standing at the bar, ordering a new drink when Tom walked up.

“How are you? Where’s Harrison?” He asked, leaning over the bar to order a drink.

“I’m bored, Tom.’ You whined. ‘And he went somewhere to talk to someone.”

“You saying he left you alone?” He asked, tilting his head in the cutest way. **No. You have a boyfriend and you love him.**

“Yup.” You said, popping the p. Tom smiled, finding it adorable. **No. You have a boyfriend and you love him. But I love you.** He was brought out of his thoughts by you.

“I’m going to he-‘ you started before being interrupted by the DJ.

“Ok. So. I don’t usually do this but Harrison here,’ he placed his hand on Harrison's shoulder, ‘has a little question he would like to ask his girlfriend. Y/n, can you step forward please?” You start walking towards Harrison. When you reached him the rest of the party guests had formed a circle around the two of you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now. I've been wanting to do this for ages.’ He knelt down and you covered your mouth, your eyes flicking up to Tom. ‘I had a full speech prepared for this and now I’m here my minds gone blank,’ that prompted a soft chuckle from all of your audience, all except Tom. ‘Y/n. I love you. I’m not going to make this too sappy because I know how much you hate that. I’ve known you were the one for not that long to be honest. I never thought I’d find the one. It was when we were laying in bed and you were doing the crossword in the newspaper, you noticed a spelling mistake. I’d never realised how in love with you I am before that.’ Tom couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stand here listening to his best mate pour his heart out to you, knowing you’ll return the words. “I’ve never felt like this before. So I’m going to bite the bullet and ask you this. Y/n, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me.” The crowd ‘awed’ and you looked up at Tom, who wasn’t where he was last.

“I- I’m sorry. I can’t.” You heard a collective gasp from the surrounding audience before you turned on your heel and ran out of the hall.

You pushed open the outside doors to the hall and called a cab, not noticing Tom behind you. By the time you got home, Tom was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

“Hey.” You murmured.

“Hi.’ He sighed, deciding to get it over and done with. He spoke up, feeling his heart shatter. ‘Let’s see the ring then.”

“I didn’t say yes, Tom.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows furrowed, confusion painting his face.

“I thought you loved him.”

“I thought so to Tom.” You stepped closer, bringing a hand up to his cheek.

“Then why did you say no?” He held your wrist and nuzzled his face into your palm.

“Because as much as I love Harrison. I’m in love with someone else.” You felt Tom’s breath hitch against your palm.

**Please know it’s you.** you begged in your head.

“W-who is it?” **Please be me.** Tom begged in his head, closing his eyes.

“It’s you. It’s always been you.” His eyes shot open. Neither of you are sure who started leaning in first but the next thing you knew was Toms lips were pressed against yours so perfectly. His lips were surprisingly soft, he tasted like mint and something was so distinctively Tom.

“I love you, Tom.” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I love you too.” He replied, pulling you closer to him.

“What about Harrison?” He asked, against your lips.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. It’s getting late.” You reassured him.

“I feel bad though.”

“You want me to talk to him now?” You asked, pulling away from his lips.

“God no. Come to bed.” He started pulling you in the direction of his room.

“Ok.”

He pushed open his bedroom door with his foot and looked back at you.

“This isn’t a joke between you and Harrison, is it?” He asked,

“God no. Why would you think that?”

“I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t help thinking you knew and you're taking the piss.” He replied.

“I’m not. This is forever, Tom.”

“And always?” He ducked slightly, placing his forehead on yours.

“Forever and always.” You nodded, pressing your lips to his.

#icyberriies writes #tom holland #tom x reader #tom holland x you #tom x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n

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mascwhump · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 13 - Turning Blue

My new longest one. 3,371 words.

TW: noncon kissing, noncon touching, choking, guns, blood, noncon drugging (mention)

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow

Time seemed to slow down. Charlie felt as though shards of ice had entered his veins. He raised his hands and pushed Mallory back before turning away and heading for the basement. He stumbled slightly, a mixture of the intoxication and the tears blurring his vision.

He made it down the steps and slid down against the wall, pulling his legs up and burying his face in them. He hugged his knees and tried to prevent himself from hyperventilating. His ears strained as he listened for footsteps, but they never came.

He ended up on his side, curled up. The tears eventually stopped, and he stared at nothing. The overwhelming sense of confusion numbed his brain. He finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He woke up in a cold sweat to soft fur brushing against him. He was having a nightmare, but he couldn't remember anything besides feeling cold and not being able to breathe. Sasha kissed his nose and he smiled softly as he pet her. She curled up next to him and he was able to fall back asleep.

Charlie slept through the rest of the night. When he woke, he looked over to find a brown paper shopping bag sitting on the floor by the stairs with a note attached. He walked over to it as he stretched and picked up the note.

Charlie,

Went shopping. There are some clothes and some other items for you in the bag. Shave your face.

- M

He scratched his head before setting the note aside and began pulling things out of the bag. There was a razor, a bottle of shaving cream, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a pack of black boxer briefs, a pair of grey joggers, and a white long sleeve t-shirt.

He put everything back in the bag and took it into the bathroom. He started the shower and washed himself, then dried off before opening the razor. He turned on the sink and lathered his face with shaving cream.

He was right about having bruises on his neck. He tried to ignore them as he shaved. The beard he had started to grow was bothering him. It was a small relief to have a clean face, even if he did prefer to keep a little stubble. He rinsed the sink and then brushed his teeth.

Finally, he got dressed, and stepped back into the main room. The door to the stairs was shut. He wondered if Mallory was home. He passed the time by looking at all the different types of alcohol in the bar, then he decided to take a risk and turn on the TV. He'd hear Mallory come down the stairs. He could turn it off before he knew a thing.

Charlie sat on the floor in front of the couch and grabbed the remote off of the coffee table. He clicked on the TV, and was met by the deafening sound of daytime television. He fumbled with the remote to shut it off. Once he did, he sprinted to the other side of the room, acting as though nothing happened.

But the door unlocked and Mallory came down.

"Did you touch the telly?" He asked, arms folded.

"No," Charlie lied.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then what was that noise I just heard?"

"I fell."

"You falling sounds like the telly blaring at full volume?"

Charlie shrugged. Mallory sighed and sat down on the second to last step.

"Your face was starting to look like you had gotten lost in the woods," Mallory said.

"I'd prefer being lost in the woods to this," Charlie mumbled.

"If you're going to speak to me like that, you can at least speak up," Mallory replied.

"Go fuck yourself," Charlie hissed.

He didn't care anymore. Mallory stood and moved right in front of him. Charlie rose to his feet and stared straight back.

"You heard me," he spat, "I said go fuck yourself."

Mallory raised his hand to smack him, but he was able to duck just in time. He moved away and brought his fists up in front of him.

"You're going to fight me now?" Mallory questioned.

Charlie swung and missed.

"Alright, but if you lose," Mallory said as he dodged another swing, "I get to have my way with you."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Charlie asked, moving backwards.

"Don't know yet. We'll see, won't we?"

"And if I win?"

"Then I'll get whatever you want for dinner and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night. I’ll even let you sleep on the bed in there.”

Charlie liked his chances. Mallory was hungover, and he was full of adrenaline. He slipped his shirt over his head and brought his fists back up. He swung, but it connected to Mallory's shoulder. Mallory swung back and managed to get him in the jaw. Charlie shook it off and prepared for another hit, but he was instead forced to the ground. Mallory landed a few hits to his head before he was able to gain his bearings and roll.

They were back on their feet, and he got a few jabs in before Mallory had him on the ground again. This time, he was face down, and Mallory had his arm pinned behind his back. He used all of his strength to push him off, to no avail.

"You motherfucker," Charlie hissed.

"Give up?" Mallory taunted.

Charlie tried again to push him off, but he was sitting on his legs. He couldn't roll, and Mallory was just pulling his arm tighter.

"Fuck, fuck! Okay," Charlie grunted, hitting the ground with his free hand.

They got up and Mallory straightened his clothes, a smirk on his lips. Charlie rubbed his shoulder as he glared at him.

"That was far too easy," Mallory said, "I'm finding it harder and harder to believe that you're some special forces operator."

"Fuck you. I've been in shitty conditions for what, a month now? Of course I'm not at my peak."

"Oh, well. What matters is that I won. I'll be back in a bit," Mallory said before starting up the stairs.

Charlie slumped to the ground and folded his arms. He was pissed, and now he had to worry about what Mallory planned to do with him later. He shuddered at the thoughts in his head. He picked up his shirt from the ground and slipped it back on, suddenly becoming very uncomfortable being undressed.

A few hours passed until Mallory came down again. He turned a dial on the wall which lowered the lights, making them dim, but not enough for it to be dark. Charlie sat in the corner with his knees pulled up. Mallory lifted his hand and looked at his bandaged finger. Charlie’s mind cut to last night, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be brought up.

“I’ve pondered over what I should with you all day,” Mallory said.

Charlie stayed silent. He watched Mallory as he took a seat at the bar and turned toward him.

“We’ve concluded that the data we’ve collected from testing Q-179 is sufficient enough. Now, we will begin working on a version that doesn’t require that special gene,” Mallory explained, “This allows us to begin the testing phase of other serums we’ve created. Like the truth serum, for example.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, don’t worry, love. I’ve realized that I don’t need it,” Mallory said, stepping off the barstool, “because I can get the truth out of you just fine without it.”

Charlie pressed his back into the wall as he was approached. Once in front of him, Mallory motioned for him to stand up with his finger. Charlie slow rose to his feet. Mallory took hold of his wrist and pulled him over to the couch, where he sat him down in the middle. He began pacing in front of the TV.

“We’re going to play a fun game of would you rather. Only, I’ll be asking all of the questions. You have ten seconds to answer. Whenever you take longer than that, it’s a point. You’ll learn what the points mean after we’re through. Understand?”

Charlie nodded just as Mallory’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it before putting it to his ear.

“Already? That was quick. Perfect timing, actually. I’ll be up in a moment,” he said into the phone before hanging up.

He walked away and up the stairs before Charlie could ask. Charlie sat with a puzzled expression for a moment. The possibilities of what could be happening frightened him. It was a few minutes before he could hear Mallory talking to someone upstairs. Then, heavy footsteps started down the steps. He held his breath as he waited.

The last thing he expected was for Crow to appear.

Charlie shot up from his seat, but Mallory shot him a look which made him sink back down. He and another man he hadn’t seen before were holding Crow’s arms. His wrists were bound behind his back, and his ankles were tied with rope. A blindfold covered his eyes and a gag was tied in his mouth. They lead him over to the area in front of the TV and the man kicked Crow to his knees.

“This is my associate, Rudy,” Mallory said.

“I’ve been wanting to get a look at you in person since you arrived,” Rudy said, a cruel smirk on his lips.

His curly auburn hair was messy, and his eyes were as dark as coal. Charlie kept his focus on Crow as Mallory began to remove the blindfold. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, they went wide. Charlie did his best to offer a comforting smile.

“I wasn’t expecting this, but it appears he will be joining our little game,” Mallory said.

Rudy moved behind the couch and leaned against the wall. Crow had closed his eyes and his head had fallen forward a little bit. His eyes shot open when Mallory snapped his fingers.

“How much Versed did you give him?” Mallory questioned.

“Enough. I can wake him up for you, if you’d like,” Rudy replied.

Mallory ignored his comment and clasped his hands together before speaking.

“Let’s begin. Alright. Charlie, would you rather be stuck in a tiny closet for three days, or be stuck underwater for two minutes?” Mallory asked.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Charlie spat.

“Ten seconds. Answer the question,” Mallory hissed.

“I-I guess the closet? I don’t know,” Charlie said.

“Good,” Mallory answered.

Rudy snickered. Charlie clenched his jaw. Crow began to shift uncomfortably, and Charlie’s heart ached, knowing how uncomfortable his jaw must’ve been. Mallory paced between Crow and the coffee table.

“Would you rather... be stabbed, or be shot?” He asked.

“Depends where at,” Charlie said.

“Answer.”

“Stabbed, I-I guess? What’s the point of this?”

A muffled sound came from Crow, and Mallory placed his hand on his head. Charlie clenched his jaw.

“Would you rather go without water for three days, or without food for five?”

“You can die after three days without water,” Charlie said, “so, food.”

Rudy stepped over to the bar and started to make himself a drink.

“Hey, no,” Mallory snapped, “I need you cognizant.”

“Aw, no fun,” Rudy sighed as he returned to his place by the wall.

“Let’s step this up a bit, shall we? Would you rather I give him a black eye, or kiss me?”

Crow tried to move, but Mallory held him down by pressing on his shoulders. Charlie began to panic, eyes darting between the two.

“Tick tock,” Mallory spoke.

Crow shook his head. Charlie opened his mouth to speak when Mallory cut him off.

“Time’s up, that’s a point,” he said.

“Wait, I-“

“Shut it. Next question, would you rather I hit you, or him?”

“Me,” Charlie spoke without a second thought.

Crow began shaking his head again, this time more frantically, as Mallory left him to approach Charlie. Rudy replaced him to hold Crow in place. He flicked out a switchblade and held it to his throat. Mallory didn’t give Charlie a chance to protect himself, and reeled back his fist. It connected to the side of his face.

Charlie’s hands flew up to cover his head. He began to taste blood, and felt around to see if another tooth had gotten knocked loose. He realized he had bitten the inside of his cheek. Knowing how Mallory would react to blood on his carpet, he tore his shirt over his head and held it to his mouth as blood began to spill out.

“Aw, did that hurt? Let me see,” Mallory teased.

Charlie slowly pulled the now bloodied shirt away from his mouth. Muffled curses came from Crow as he noticed the amount of blood.

“It’ll heal,” Mallory stated, almost disappointedly.

Charlie put the shirt back to his mouth and glared at him.

“I guess that’s enough for now,” Mallory sighed.

“But it was just beginning to get good,” Rudy whined.

“Oh, I know, but we can pick up where we left off later. Only one point, Charlie. I’m surprised,” Mallory said, “I’d thought for sure you’d get more. Come, Rudy. Let’s get something to eat, and we can discuss what to do with these two.”

Rudy laughed as he followed Mallory, but ruffled his fingers through Charlie’s hair before leaving. Charlie listened as they went up the stairs, then, as soon as the door closed, he raced to Crow. He dropped the shirt on the coffee table and began to undo the gag.

“Charlie,” Crow spoke.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Charlie said softly as he wrapped his arms around Crow.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you before,” Crow said.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I don’t care about that, I’m just happy that you’re alright.”

Charlie moved behind him to undo the bindings on his wrists and ankles. As soon as they were off, they both stood, and Crow pulled Charlie into a hug.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispered, “I’ll get us out of this.”

It was then Charlie realized that they had never hugged before. He never wanted to let go. Eventually, he did, but only because Crow had to sit.

“I’m sorry, I’m really dizzy,” he said, “they’ve had me drugged up since I last saw you.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie said, sitting next to him.

“That Rudy bloke is a real prick.”

“I assumed so. He seems like a piece of work.”

“That’s an understatement. He took over when Mallory left, and he takes ‘power trip’ to new levels. I even heard some of the guards talking shite about him.”

“So he’s a megalomaniac?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Even worse than Mallory.”

The two spent a long time talking. At one point, Charlie felt like they were back home, having one of their conversations at the dining table. He had a sense of comfort that he hadn’t had in a long time.

“What do you reckon that point means?” Crow asked.

“Don’t know, and I don’t want to find out,” Charlie replied.

Charlie got up to rinse the blood from his mouth. After he came back, they both looked toward the stairs when they heard a quiet scratching.

“The bloody hell is that?” Crow wondered aloud.

“Sasha,” Charlie replied.

“Sasha?”

“She’s his cat. She likes to come down here.”

“You mean to tell me he likes animals? That’s surprising.”

Sasha suddenly came bolting down the stairs. The door must’ve been opened. She ran over to Charlie, but stopped when she noticed Crow. She was cautious, but began to consider him.

“I don’t remember saying you could untie him,” Mallory spoke.

Charlie’s blood ran cold. Rudy stepped off of the stairs and stood next to Mallory, holding something behind his back.

“No matter. Charlie, come with me,” Mallory said, then nodded to Rudy, “and you keep him under control.”

Charlie looked at Crow before standing and walking

over to Mallory. Rudy revealed a pistol, and aimed it at Crow.

“Won’t shoot ya if you stay still,” He said.

Charlie followed Mallory into the bedroom, and Mallory locked the door behind them. He took his phone out of his pocket and opened the timer app.

“Each point meant twenty minutes of punishment. Luckily for you, you only got one point,” Mallory spoke.

“Please, I was going to answer,” Charlie pleaded.

“You had ten seconds to answer, and you wasted them. One more word, and I’m adding another twenty minutes,” Mallory snapped.

Charlie backed himself into the wall next to the bed as his heart raced. Mallory took off his belt and snapped it in his hands. Charlie put his hands up, and Mallory swung it at him. It connected to his shoulder with a loud crack. He cried out as he slid to the ground, pulling his knees up and hiding his face in them. The belt cracked against the hand covering his head.

“Get up,” Mallory growled, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to his feet.

He spun him around so his chest was against the wall, and hit him three more times across the back. Charlie clenched his jaw to avoid making a sound, but failed as a whimper slipped through on the third hit. He froze as he felt the leather wrap around his throat. Mallory hooked it through the buckle and pulled tight, pressing his body against Charlie’s back.

“You want this to stop?” He whispered in his ear.

Charlie nodded.

“Too bad.”

He pulled it tighter, and Charlie coughed as he began to choke. He raised his hands and tried to slip fingers inside of the belt to make room to breathe, to no avail. Mallory stepped back and yanked hard on the belt, causing Charlie to fall to the ground. Mallory let go and Charlie gasped for air as the belt loosened. It was short lived, though, as Mallory straddled his legs and gripped the belt again. He pulled tight, and Charlie gripped onto his arm, digging his nails in.

He plead with his eyes as he choked in whatever air he could. His mind raced for some way out. Mallory leaned in a bit closer, just in reach, and he took a chance. Charlie reached up and managed to get his hands behind his head. He pulled him into a kiss.

It worked. He eased his grip on the belt, and Charlie could breathe again. He kept his hold on him. The longer he could, the less time remained. Mallory let go of the belt completely and moved his hand up to Charlie’s face, putting his other hand on the ground to hold himself up.

Charlie did his best to dissociate himself from the moment, but Mallory’s movements prevented him from doing so. His hand left his face and traced down to his chest, where he rested it over his heart. Charlie finally broke away and turned his head to the side. Mallory roughly grabbed his chin and pulled him back, kissing him again.

“Stop,” Charlie mumbled.

Mallory took hold of the belt again and tugged on it. Charlie whimpered and reluctantly kissed him back. He dropped the belt. Charlie fought back tears as Mallory tangled his fingers in his hair. It seemed to last forever before Mallory finally pulled away. He got up and ordered Charlie to do the same. He was thrown against the wall, and Mallory slipped the belt from his neck.

“You’ve convinced me,” he said through his teeth, “but don’t expect that to work again.”

He put his belt back on before opening the door. Charlie followed him out and Rudy lowered his gun. Crow looked as though he was ready to rip Mallory apart, but just had enough self control to stop himself.

“Come on, Rudy,” Mallory said as he started up the stairs.

Charlie waited for the door to close before he fell to his knees. Crow rushed over to him and traced the red marks on his body.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

The tears began to fall. Charlie clung to him, crying into his shirt. Crow pulled him close and rubbed his back.

“Shh, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

#easton’s unnamed story #oc #whump oc #whump story #whump #whumpee #whumper #intimate whumper #noncon kissing tw #noncon touching tw #if anyone wants to draw that one part Uh... lmk

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