#also no one asked but I enjoy John on the side even if he’s cut off

[are-we-really-doing-this]

I recall someone else posting this pic with a similar observation, but I just love how Wes is grabbing Fred’s whole titty while he’s just being a weird little creature for the cameras. I’m jealous.

[multifandomimagin3s]

Reader sits on their face and breaks their neck - 141, Los Vaqueros + König

requested by @daniel-meyer-03 contains sexual content (obvs), minors dni

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He always encourages you to put your whole weight onto his face - doesn't matter what size you are, he loves being smothered by your thighs.

His tongue is lapping your wetness like a man starved, when he mis-times his movements completely, feeling his neck go 'pop.'

He halts his movements with a grunt, head falling flat against the mattress; you raise yourself back off his face so sit at his side, as his hand comes up to cradle the back of his neck.

"Ah shit, that doesn't feel good."

He'd be pissy in the ambulance, purely because he wasn't allowed to put his balaclava on before he left and he's not happy about the Paramedics seeing his face.

Since he's legally dead, I reckon Price would have to pull some strings to get him seen in a private hospital to try and keep things hush hush.

He would be a grumpy guy when he has to wear one of those neck supports for the next few weeks," I look like a twat."

Isn't annoyed at you in the slightest - in fact it's quite the opposite, you had to tell him 'no' more than once when he suggested you sit on his face again, neck brace be damned.

"Would be a hell of a way to die, Love."

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

This would probably one of many sex-related injuries he's had in the past.

Pulled his hamstring and a few muscles in his back one night when you two were really going at it.

Slipped during shower sex and almost took you to the ground with him.

Has banged his head off the headboard during missionary more times than you can count.

So it's fair to say that considering he's in the SAS, he's really accident prone.

Would wear the neck brace with pride, wouldn’t care if the team took the piss out of him for it - and for how he got injured in the process.

Even when his neck was in agony, he couldn't stop smiling.

"Considering how this happened in the first place, cannae really complain, Darlin'."

If he felt any awkwardness he didn't show it - even in the Emergency Department, he wasn't shy when he was asked how he hurt himself, which made you flush bright red each time.

Would probably act like a big baby when he'd given medical leave.

Being able to just be with you, cuddling and spending time together, was amazing - and he'd been given 6 weeks off, so he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Oh, and like Ghost, he absolutely wouldn't be deterred by the experience in the slightest.

But is maybe a bit more mindful to put a pillow under his neck the next time he asks you to sit on his face.

Captain John Price

I reckon his neck is probably fucked already - like the muscles in his neck get so tight that sometimes he struggles to turn his head.

It's the norm for him.

But when he feels a sudden pop sensation just above his nape, he knows that something isn't right.

Probably would have encouraged you to continue riding his face if it wasn't for the intense pain shooting up his neck.

Would refuse to go to the hospital - "I've had worse on the field, Love, I'll be fine."

It wasn't until you pushed him into going for an x-ray that he realised he'd actually injured himself.

Wouldn't tell a soul what happened - not even the Doctors.

His private life stays just that - private.

Would grumble like an old man when he has to put the supportive collar on; "I look like a bloody dog when it's had its knackers cut off..."

Also wouldn't be annoyed at you at all - in fact, he promises that as soon as he's given the all clear to stop wearing "this bloody thing" he wants you back on his face.

Captains orders ~

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Mans is just confused as fuck.

One minute you're riding his face, his hands on your ass guiding your movements.

The next he's in agony - and then in an ambulance.

It isn't until a Doctor reviews his x-rays with him that he finally clicks on to what happened.

You rode his face...and broke his neck.

The realisation has him breaking into a fit of laughter - which mildly concerns the clinical staff.

He's in the military, risks his life on the regular - and the worst injury he's gained so far is from oral.

He's honestly nearly pissing himself from laughter, which makes you laugh too.

The neck brace doesn't even bother him one bit - the medical leave is a bonus in his eyes because he gets to spend more quality time with you.

Doesn't tell the Team how it happened - but Soap put the pieces together in his head, and is clapping Gaz on the back with booming laughter at the realisation.

"Fuckin' hell mate, that's one way tae do it!"

Alejandro Vargas

Like Soap, he's a bit too happy considering the situation he's in.

He's a passionate man, so getting an injury during sex doesn't bother him at all.

Usually he's very co-ordinated and he definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom.

So fuck knows how he managed to practically break his neck whilst you were riding his face.

One wrong jerky move of his head and the next - searing pain.

Also is a grumpy guy when he's wearing the neck brace.

Would definitely play on it a bit, giving you the big brown puppy dog eyes so you'd give him more cuddles and affection; "Mi Amor, it hurts less when you're by my side ~"

Definitely would still try and initiate sex despite being told to take it easy.

Would happily let you ride him on the couch - his typical positions weren't on the cards but any angle he gets of your amazing body brings him bliss.

Gets the brace off...and probably injures himself again because he was a bit too eager to finish what he started.

Rudy Parra

Like his comrade, he's also a very passionate lover.

Apparently, a bit too passionate.

Which is why he was currently sat on your couch, arms crossed over his chest with a slightly annoyed expression.

He's not annoyed at you - he's annoyed that he didn't get to finish what he started.

Rudy was having the time of his life, smothered between your thighs, and he probably would've kept going had it not been you that hurriedly hopped off his face when he let out a pained groan.

Would probably try and convince you to let him continue where you left off.

But the hospital staff would probably be less impressed if he ended up back in the Emergency Department because he hurt himself further.

So he waits...impatiently.

As soon as the Doctor gives him the all clear, he practically dives between your legs.

He has to make up for lost time ;)

König

The poor guy is mortified - he’s not angry at you, not one bit, but that trip to the hospital is one that he’ll never forget.

Doesn’t like social situations, or hospitals for that matter, so being in a busy A&E department really was making him feel gradually worse by the minute.

That and he still had a bit of a *ahem* problem since your activities got interrupted.

Wearing a neck brace wouldn't bother him too much - as long as he can still wear his hood, he's happy.

Speaking of which, imagine the poor doctors trying to persuade him to take it off so they can examine his neck.

Thankfully he doesn't have to go on-base wearing the support - he'd probably die of embarrassment if Horangi found out what exactly happened, because then the entire base would find out no doubt.

Somehow, his comrade finds out anyways, and texts his friend some thumbs up emojis; "Way to go, big guy, best way to end up in the ER ;)"

After he gets the brace off and has to take it easy for a bit he'd be a bit sad since having you sitting on his face is his all time favourite position :(

Still, he improvises - and when he has your knees pressed to your chest and his mouth is writing the alphabet between your thighs, you would never complain ~

[3amfanfiction]

It’s just dinner

Kyle asks you to have dinner with his captain—that’s normal, right?

2.1k, CW: sex work, unknowing prostitution, manipulation, gazslighting, enjoy!

You don’t know how you got here.

You’d think it would be obvious—what actions caused which responses, what conversations indicated acceptance. But as most things do, it all started so innocently.

Kyle was the perfect boyfriend. He was caring, understanding, and gave mind blowing head. Sure, sometimes he got a little bossyprotective, but it was always in your best interest!

He needed to know who you were hanging out with to make sure he could find you if there was an emergency. And he ended up being right about your friends, they weren’t looking out for your best interest.

You had a good thing with Kyle and it broke your heart when he came to you about your best friend propositioning him while you were out of town. You never would’ve believed it if he didn’t show you the texts himself. Honestly, it’s for the best that you cut ties. You haven’t had a chance to find new friends just yet— scared to put yourself out there as well as Kyle becoming extra protective over you after that incident. He practically glued himself to your side, wouldn’t even let you out of the house alone after that. He always looked out for you — the perfect boyfriend.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t push back very hard when he first brought it up.

“I know this makes you uncomfortable love, but it’s the Captain. I trust him with my life and he’s done so much for me—for us, lately,” he brushed the tips of his fingers along your hairline, down to your temple in a soft caress.

You were sitting on his lap, both legs thrown to one side while you leaned your shoulder against his chest. He had pulled you onto him shortly after lunch, saying he had something to talk to you about. Honestly, you were expecting a vacation—not this.

When you don’t respond to his statement he continues, “Remember last month when I was home for your birthday?” you nod shallowly, eyes darting to the side, “Cap pulled in quite a few favors to make it happen. I told him how important it was to you and he delivered.”

You force a swallow, trying to work up any amount of moisture in your mouth as your stomach knots in discomfort, “I didn't ask him to do that, Kyle,” defensive, why did you feel like you were in the wrong? “Regardless, why would he want dinner with me?”

This felt so far out of the realm of ordinary you didn’t have a clear path forward.

You’d spoken with John Price a handful of times. There had been get togethers with Kyle’s team and you’d gotten to visit with all of them. While your conversations with John were always easy, you felt they weren’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Hey now, I don’t want to hear any of that," Kyle frowns at you in admonishment. "You’re gorgeous and smart and any guy would be lucky if you gave them the time of day.” He cups your face in his palms, turning you fully towards him, “I love spending time with you, is it any surprise that my captain, the man I admire, also wants to spend time with you?”

His eyes are warm brown pools and they pull you into his orbit with ease. You feel yourself begin to fold. “I mean, wouldn’t it be weird?” You try, searching for a handhold in this free fall, “We’re dating and you want me to go on a date with another man. Wouldn't that make you uncomfortable?”

You try and turn your head away, attempting to put some space between the two of you so that you could breathe. It felt like you were drowning in his pull. He gently guided your face back towards his before shaking his head exasperatedly. “Love, it’s John,” as if you were a toddler that asked if you would go down the drain with the bath water. He tilts your head down to kiss the furrow between your brows before pulling you back up, eye to eye, “there’s no one safer I would have you with. Now, no more of this, you’ll have dinner with him this weekend.” His ‘I mean business’ voice coming out and you knew you had lost any chance of further arguments.

“Okay,” you stammer weakly, “okay, you’re right. It’s just dinner with your captain. I can do that.” You try to reassure yourself. You honestly don’t know why you’re so nervous. He’s always been a perfect gentleman, if a bit of a flirt, whenever you would speak. And it was just dinner. It would be like going to grab a meal with a friend.

Really.

Why were you being such a baby about this? You felt kind of silly that you were making the situation bigger than it was, now that a decision had been made.

Kyle beamed at you as if you had just told him you loved him for the first time. He peppered kisses all over your face, his faint stubble tickling the sensitive skin of your jaw and neck. “Such a good girl for me, pet,” in between nips and flicks of his tongue, “you’re absolutely perfect, do you know that?”

You giggle and wrap your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close to you and tilting your chin to give him more access, “Yes, yes, I know, I’m wonderful.” You say in mock haughtiness.

You gasp as his hands work their way under your top to flick and pinch at your nipples, “so bloody wonderful,” is growled into your skin.

Before you can blink you’ve been flipped onto your back on the couch, Kyle pressing into your soft body, pinning you down. “Let me show you just how wonderful you are—” is all the warning you get before you’re stripped naked and he makes his way between your thighs, showing his appreciation. Again and again . . . . and again.

///

That led to tonight. Date night. With Captain John Price.

John was sitting across from you, eyes crinkled with the force of his smile as took you in.

“Doll, you look—“ here he trailed off for a second, looking for the perfect word, “like a dream.” He decided on with a decisive nod. You had to admit, he wasn't wrong.

Yesterday, Kyle convinced you that you needed a new outfit before your dinner with Captain Price.

"I can't have you showing up without looking your finest, babe," he said, bundling you into the car to head downtown. "We're going all out, do you hear me? New dress, new shoes, new lingerie."

"Kyle Garrick! We are not buying me new lingerie. This is just a dinner!" you screech at him in shock, astounded by his audacity and maybe a little bit hurt when he laughed at you.

"Calm down babe, it's nothing like that," he reassures as if you're a spooked horse, "that'll just be for us. You're going to be sitting with the Captain—eating dinner, laughing at his jokes, batting these pretty eyelashes for him— and I want to know that you're dressed like an absolute slut under your pretty dress."

Your damp panties made sure you couldn't look anyone in the eye the whole time you were at the boutique.

The fact that he made you pose for pictures before stepping into your dress tonight was very on brand for him. I need something to keep me company while you're at dinner. I'm going to be lonely sitting here all by myself while you're having fun.

You realized your date for the evening was looking at you, waiting for your response. You smoothed your palms over your thighs bashfully, "thank you, Captain Price. You look very handsome tonight also."

"Bah! I've told you pet, it's John. No need for formalities between us," he brushed you off with a smooth shrug of his wide shoulders, reaching across the table to pat your hand, leaving his palm to linger for a few heartbeats before withdrawing.

For tonight's dinner he had poured himself into a button up that was straining at the seams to keep his mass contained. A watch glinted at his wrist, drawing your gaze to his strong hands and thick fingers. His scarred knuckles causing something to flutter deep inside.

"John, then," you felt your cheeks warm with the gentle chastisement, taking a small sip of your drink to give yourself a moment to recenter. When you reached forward to set the glass back down you noticed John's eyes zero in around your shoulder, his gaze shifting away after a few moments, something flitting across his gaze, too quickly for you to make out.

"Tell me about your week, pet, what have you done?"

What followed was several hours of conversation and laughter, with good food and drinks mixed in. John had you eating off his fork, here love, you have to try these potatoes. I've never had them better, drinking his whiskey, you haven't had something this smooth in your mouth before, dove. Give it a sip, no I'll hold the glass, just tilt that pretty chin up for me, and slapping at his shoulder with an admonishing John Price! when he moved his chair around the table to whisper into your ear about the other patrons at the restaurant. His lips touching the sensitive skin with every gravely word spoken, those two over there? It's definitely their first date. Look at them, I bet he's going to have her dress up around her waist before they even make it out of the parking lot. I bet if we listen closely we'll be able to hear her squealing.

You did your best to mask the shudder that went down your spine as he continued, ignoring your censure as if you hadn't spoken, his deep voice causing the hair on your arms to rise. You were completely unprepared for his big palm to come down on your thigh under the table. If he wouldn't have been pressing down so firmly, your jolt would have sent your knee slamming into the underside of the table.

"Are you okay pet? Not cold, are you?" he asked in a concerned burr, already starting to reach for his jacket, ready to bundle you up if needed.

"No, no, I'm okay John," you reassured. As tempting as it was to be wrapped up in a thick coat that smelled like John's tobacco and woody cologne, it was probably best if you didn't cross that line. It felt too much like what someone would do when they were out on a date. You didn't want to send the wrong impression—you were here for a dinner between friends, that was all.

John of course was perfectly understanding. "Lovely. I'd hate to cover up that beautiful dress, anyways," he gave you a wink like you two were in on a joke together. He straightened back up to continue his comentary of the different dates happening in the restaurant.

You hadn't noticed it at first, but each table did in fact seem to be on a date. There wasn't a single group or family sitting down for dinner, it was all made up of couples. How strange.

With your last drinks finished, it was time for the night to be over. John pulled your chair back for you before offering his arm, walking you outside.

Standing under the stars, he reached up to adjust the shoulder of your dress with a secretive smile, fingers lingering to brush the soft skin before raising his hand to cup your jaw. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss into your cheek, keeping your face still—pinned.

After a heartbeat too long, he pulled back, the car service reaching the curb. He helped you into the backseat with a soft 'goodnight, pet, until next time'.

///

When you get home Kyle is waiting up, watching a movie quietly on the couch. He stands to greet you with a smile and a hug.

"My best girl, I've missed that pretty face," he crows, drawing you in for a kiss that never seems to end, making out like teenagers. Kyle seems ravenous, like he will die if he doesn't get the breath straight from your lungs. Your fingers press into his tight curls while his hands grope and squeeze the fat of your hips, kneading you similar to a cat.

He finally pulls back, leaving you panting and dazed, unsure of what precipitated—a reward? That's what it felt like, like a reward for doing something correctly. Mistake after mistake and you finally nailed the trick, aren't you so smart?

One final peck to your lips and he's taking a step back. He glanced down towards your shoulder and gives a little laugh, 'your pretty new bra is showing baby, are you trying to tease me?'

|||

Next || Story Repository

[catherinnn]

Play-Fighting

enjoy yet another real fluffy blurb about this boy

You were laying on the couch talking to the girls while waiting for the boys to get back with something to eat. You were hanging out at the château as usual, when you realized that you were running out of beer, you sent the boys to go get some more and also, some food to have dinner together.

Sarah was in the middle of a story about her and Wheezie when the boys entered the house very loudly.

“So, we got more beer and for food we’ve got two options. Pizza or macaroni and cheese, your choice” Pope announced.

“Mac and cheese please, we had pizza yesterday already” Kie asked and the rest of us nodded agreeing with her.

“Mac and cheese it is then” Pope and John B. went to the kitchen to start cooking them. Sarah went back to her story when you felt a body jumping onto the couch with you, practically falling on top of you, crushing you.

“Hey there, did you miss me?” of course it was JJ who jumped interrupting your peace.

“J, you’re crushing me” you groaned trying to get him off of you.

“Oh, so you didn’t miss me? Alright then”

“I didn’t say that but please, let me breathe properly” you kept trying to push him, but of course, he was stronger than you.

“No, you already hurt my feelings” he said as his fingers started tickling your belly with a devilish smirk on his face.

“No! Get off of me, JJ!” you yelled as your hands pushed him away while you tried to hold back your laughter. Maybe you didn’t have to hold back but you couldn’t let him win. And he wouldn’t let you go before he wins.

You tried with something that you knew was gonna work, you moved your hands to his hair and started pulling on it. A scream left his lips as you turned around and sat on his lap, hand still attached to his hair. His hands left your belly and quickly moved to your hair too, grabbing a handful of it and pulling just like you were with his. You winced from the pain and then laughed at the situation and how you were winning this one because JJ wouldn’t stop complaining and telling you to let go of his hair.

The girls who were still sat in the living room rolled their eyes at your little play-fight and kept on talking ignoring you two and your screaming.

As JJ realized he was losing, he moved his hands to your waist and started pinching harshly on the skin moving from your waist, to your belly, your back and hips.

“Ow! No, stop it!” you complained and pulled on his hair even harder than before.

“You stop it!” He flinched.

“Both of you stop it!” Cleo complained next to you. “Can’t even listen with both of you screaming in my ear, man” You and JJ removed your hands from each other with a pout as if you were little kids who were just told to behave. You rolled around, sitting between his legs and leaning on his chest, he hugged you and kissed the side of your head. Now cuddling together leaving the previous cat-and-dog-fight long forgotten.

“John B. can you get me a beer?” JJ asked loudly so he could hear from the kitchen.

“Me too!” Sarah joined.

“Bring for everyone!” Kie requested making things simpler.

“We bought some snacks too, to eat while we wait for the mac and cheese” John B. appeared with the beers and some chips. We cheered as if we were little kids getting candy—well, we kind of were. “Dude, what’s up with your hair?” John B. asked JJ noticing how it was way messier than usual. The girls noticed too thanks to John B’s comment and they laughed at the state of it.

“This little bitch happened” he commented and removed his hands from around your body and started to comb it back with his fingers.

“He was tickling me” you defended yourself and grabbed two beers.

“Oh, that was not even half as painful as this was” he responded getting angry again.

“Quit crying, just drink your beer and keep cuddling me” you cut him off.

“You don’t deserve it now” he mumbled to himself but obviously, giving how close you were, you heard it. Nonetheless, he grabbed the beer you were handing him and his arms returned to your body, keeping you close.

[ghostsbimbo]

TF141 x Disabled!Reader; Cerebral Palsy

a/n: writing this from my own experience. i am mobile & independent w/o aids due to years of physical therapy, but it's getting harder. Please note, this disability is rare. There isn't much representation in media either, it's quite hard to find, there's 2 or 3 actors, a comedian or two. so I kind of want a small thing, y'know?

Task Force 141 [ General Statement ]

Okay, so this disability is rare (200k cases per year in the US - I do not know about other countries). I have the genuine belief that when they first meet you and you tell them that you have the disability, they actually start looking it up right in front of you. Not only out of curiosity, but because they want to help you.

John Price

He knew it was one of those days for you. He could tell just from you sitting up in bed and hearing the wince you had tried so hard to hide from him. He sighed softly, mentally questioning himself before finally deciding to ask it. "Wheelchair and cane day, love?" "Yeah...Wheelchair and cane day." You admitted, sighing softly. He sat up and leaned over, kissing your head before getting out of your shared bed, ready to help get you whatever you needed.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You two were at home while he was on leave, eating dinner - steak, a favorite of yours - but you were struggling with cutting it with the knife. Growing up physical therapy focused on the use of your dominant hand - especially with writing - so when it came to using your non-dominant hand? it was beyond a struggle to do things. Cutting up foods was one of them. "You want my help, love?" Simon asked, tilting his head. He understood you didn't like asking him for help, he understood you wanted independence when it came to even the simplest things, but he could also tell when you were getting frustrated. You simply nodded, placing the fork and knife down and carefully pushing the plate over to his side for help.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You tried your best to not be a messy eater. Like, to the point where you were constantly wiping your mouth, taking small bites of food, eating slow. but then there were days you just couldn't put that much brain power into being a conscious eater. It was a 'low spoons day' as you put it. Your body already hurt constantly due to your stiff muscles, which took a lot out of you on rainy days, so why make the effort to not be messy considering your body was already in so much pain. "Babe...You uh, got a little..." Gaz started, before getting a paper towel and carefully wiping the ice cream off your upper lip and the tip of your nose. You just blushed brightly and mumbled out a quick thank you and an apology. He just let out a soft chuckle and smiled at you. "It's alright, love, at leas you're enjoying something today, yeah?"

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You were scuffing your feet instead of actually walking walking. A habit that took years of physical therapy to break. You liked not having to think about not having to walk when you were in pain, but not many other people appreciated the noise. It irritated them. And that's how you got where you are now. In your work's break room, shakily texting your boyfriend to come pick you up. A customer had berated you in front of other customers and your boss in the store. He did get kicked out by your manager of course, but due to you being low spoons, that was your breaking point. Johnny was aloud in the break room on these kind of days. It was something your manager understood you might need on certain days. "C'mon love, you already clocked out, right?" You nodded and you guys walked out to his car, hand in hand with him rubbing small soothing circles on the back of your hand.

[aliaology]

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK

summary: yn makes it to michigan with her friend sabrina, shockingly, reconnecting with old friends and also bumping into bad memories.

series masterlist

you felt weird, the stares of others pouring heavily onto your body. you didn’t like it, the feeling, whatsoever. the crowd parted as you walked into the house. the memories from this house flooded through your mind, from running to your room away from jack, to even skinny dipping with him in the lake.

you watched cole leap up and made his way to you, leaving a very uncomfortable jack and trevor behind. "bells! you made it" he grinned.

the shorter boy threw his arms around you in happiness. "hey coley, i told you i'd be here" you smiled, hugging him back.

"i know but it's just, unreal! i haven't seen you in forever!" he smiled.

you frowned. "im sorry cole, ive been really busy in toronto and it doesn't help that i feel so out of place in michigan now.." you trailed off.

"dont sweat it, bells. im just glad you're here" he smiled at you. "how long are you staying here for?" he asked.

"well— sab leaves tomorrow, im staying to get my dorm situated back at umich" you told. cole nodded.

"get lunch with me tomorrow then? i want to catch up" you just nodded before hearing your name get called. looking behind you, you see some of jack's teammates.

jack's teammates, john marino and nico hischier always liked you. hell, you still talked to them to ask how games went and just how they were.

"ill talk to you later coley" you grinned.

cole nodded and went back to trevor and jack. trevor held a sour look on his face while jack looked pissed. you grabbed sab’s arm and brought her with you to john and nico.

"hi johnny, hi nico" you smiled at them, giving them each hugs once you got to them. "its been awhile." you added.

"seriously, a long time. have you been in toronto the entire time?" john asked.

you nodded. "yeah, i moved in with my brother. im with him for just two more weeks until i move into my new apartment." you smiled.

"really? where you moving to?" nico asked.

"new york, actually." you grinned. "maybe ill drive over to nj and pop in."

nico grinned, "i'd be careful with that one, y/n. i cant lie, jacks been in a little bit of a twist since your song came out." he spoke.

john nodded. "more standoff-ish, but he had it coming.”

you heard sab snort from behind you, causing you to grin along. "sorry its just— one of my songs ends with ‘he had it coming’ and it reminded me of that.” sabrina spoke.

"its okay— how have you both been?” nico asked. you looked at sabrina with a hesitation glint in your eyes. she just sent you a nod.

“ive been— okay? uhm, just a lot going on currently. very stressed i dont know— i just cant wait to get back to umich.” you explained.

“and i have to go back to LA tomorrow so i have to soak my time up with my girl.” sabrina grinned, tossing an arm around your neck.

"uh oh— warning, trevor is on his way over.” john said, bringing his cup to his mouth to quiet his words before taking a sip of whatever alcoholic drink he had.

you tensed up slightly, not turning your head, you kept close to sabrina.

"what up guys, how you enjoying the party? cole's wondering." trevor faked a smile.

"oh, very fun if i do say so myself." sabrina sarcastically spoke.

you nudged her slightly, elbowing her in the side. she sent you a glare, basically stating ‘cut the shit.’

trevor sarcastically smiled. "well isn't that just peachy? anyone here finding someone to go home with tonight? i know it shouldn't be too hard for some of you."

you grab nico's drink, sipping it yourself. "maybe— i heard that dixie girl is single, might ask her to go home with me.” you shrugged.

the four guys went completely silent. you coughed, "anyone up for another drink? i think i need to get drunk tonight." and you walked away.

“oh my god” sabrina laughed, immediately going after you.

“fucking bitch”

trevor scoffed, walking away in anger. john and nico looked at each other, wide eyes. "holy shit."

lol hey... this sucked but hey! tags: @honethatty12 , @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @lovinbarzal , @outrunangelss , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @shadowsndaisies @lxnceclercs

[rainswriting-blog]

Say it Again

Summary: Y/N gets jealous easily when another female tries to flirt with your husband. You did without thinking, and now you're facing the repercussions of your actions.

A/N: I love writing for Captain Price 🤤😍 enjoy 😉

WC: 938

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

Warning(s): daddy kink, throat fucking, vaginal penetration, cursing, cum, squirting, passionate sex, safe sex, no condom, breeding.

Reblog’s and feedback are appreciated. 18+ minors do not interact

Visuals

It was a weekly grocery shopping day for you and John. You and John headed to the store with a semi-long list of stuff that you had to get that also included John's favorite snacks.

The both of you split up in the grocery store as John to the non-perishable items to grab his snacks real quick and meet up with you after to continue shopping so he took the cart with him as you were grabbing some stuff from the cold section.

You wondered why he was taking so long. So, you walked through the store until you found your husband talking to a young girl that looked younger than you. Mind you, you were only twenty-five years old and John was thirty-seven. This girl looked like a teen from a distance. You were fuming, no you were infuriated.

When you got closer this girl had the fakest boob job you ever saw in your life and those botox lips that you cringed over. Meanwhile, your husband had a resting bitch face look on his face as the girl was trying to flirt with your man.

You threw the items that you found into the cart causing the girl to jump a little and your husband giving you a funny look.

Without thinking,

You blurt out "Hi, daddy" pulling him to your height.

John was shocked at first but just went with it. The girl that was trying to flirt with him walked away immediately after.

You both finish your grocery shopping, John puts the bags of groceries in the car not saying a word. He even stayed quiet during your short car ride home only listening to the car radio.

The only words he said to you were "unlock the front door," Giving you the keys. As he grabbed all the groceries at once.

He puts the groceries on the kitchen floor as you close and lock the front door. You turn back around only to find your husband right there. Pinning your back to the front door.

"Can me daddy again" he says running his thumb across your bottom lip as his blue eyes looked into yours.

"John the groc…" He cuts you off.

"Say it again, don't make me ask again" he repeats himself.

"Daddy," you say looking up at him as you bit down on your lip and started rubbing your thighs together.

"You're driving me crazy," he says, placing a passionate kiss on your lips.

As you felt his dick poke you in the stomach getting harder by the minute. Making you look down seeing how hard he was.

"Do daddy a favor and get on your knees," he says, placing his hand on the top of your head helping you go down to your knees.

He slowly unbuckles and unzips his pants slowly letting his cock spring out of his pants and boxers hitting you in the face. You grab the base of his cock licking the precum off his pink head and giving it a kiss while looking up at him.

"No hands," he says grinning, pulling your hand away.

"Yes, daddy," you say looking up at him, giving his head one more kiss before pushing him all the way down your throat letting your tongue stick out.

You slowly shake your head playfully side to side moving his dick around in your throat as the drool from your tongue slowly runs down his balls.

"You're too slow," he says.

Grabbing the sides of your head with his large hands. Thrusting in and out of your throat at a fast pace giving you no time to breathe as you dug your nails into his thighs. As you continue to look up at him with as drool continued to come out of your mouth and your black mascara running down your face.

You pull your crop top down to your stomach revealing your hard nipples to your husband then proceeding to put your hand down your black pants to clit only to get a few rubs in before he stops you by pulling you up by your arms and facing you to the door where he roughly pulls down your pants employing your panties to the side shoving his cock past your wet folds.

"Mmh, daddy," you say moaning.

You reached up to grab the back of his neck for support, giving him a passionate kiss as your other hand stayed on the front door. John grabs both of your breasts giving your nipples a hard pinch as he starts thrusting in and out of your wet hole.

"Does this feel good baby," he says, giving you a wet kiss on your neck.

"Yeah, daddy give it to me harder, please," you say looking back.He did as you requested he picked up his pace only to hear slapping of skin and your moans.

"Fuck daddy gonna cum," you say in a high pitch tone.

He moves his hand quickly to rub your clit viciously until you cummed with a splash leaving John's jeans wet as well your pants, and the floor beneath you two. John continued his movements until he felt his high as he finished inside of you.

He pulls your panties back in place and pulls up your wet pants as he fixes himself as well.

"Go clean yourself up, i'll put the groceries away" he says, giving you a kiss on the cheek and slapping your butt when you walked away.

Note to yourself don't call your husband daddy in public unless you want to get fucked good, smirking to yourself while pulling your top back up.

Taglist 🏷

@nanamis-wifey-reye

© 2022-2024 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴-𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴 do not copy, modify, translate, or repost any content posted to this blog or claim as your own on any platform.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

You might’ve already got this before, and I’m asking this in genuinely good faith.

Your essay was very interesting, and convinced me of Erikar as a ship reading. I also really enjoyed your dissection of Eridan as a very honest person drawn into destructive behavior. It very much lines up with his status as a Prince of Hope! One who destroys conviction/belief through conviction/belief.

What confused me was your insistence on the hidden hand of the author. Death of the Author and all that, what’s implied in the text can be taken on its own separate from commentary but you seem to be doing an autopsy— the text implies [this] so *Hussie* must have intended for [this] and then tried to cover it up. If they genuinely thought it was a better ending, why not do it? Why the secrecy, why the feints? I think it’s a little conspiracy-brained to insist on a secret “better ending” that we don’t have author’s word or drafts on.

I’m also a little drifted on your frustration with the deaths of the trolls? You write that the theme of Homestuck— a standard coming-of-age story, a reckoning with society and the exit from youth— is undercut by the deaths of the trolls, because that means they *had* to die, in *punishment*. I disagree. Their deaths are tragic, not just.

Homestuck has a lot of methods of revival, the choice to (for the most part) perma-kill some characters (the trolls for one, and then AR, WQ, and WK) is a deliberate choice to make death mean something. If dying doesn’t mean anything, what are the narrative stakes? Murderstuck marks Gamzee as a threat, Eridan as a tragedy. The deaths there are meant. To be sad. To demonstrate that sometimes kids don’t get to grow up, that sometimes the society they live in cuts them down.

Homestuck is a sad story at times! It doesn’t need an ending where everyone gets to live to keep its coming-of-age conclusion.

I hope this made sense. I’m not trying to attack you, I’m just skeptical of some of your points. I hope you go on to do more analysis in the future!

If you want to believe that, go ahead 👍 again, arguing my points on that front would require its own entire essay, lol, so I'm not really planning to do that as the answer to an ask. The only thing I really want to say here is that while Homestuck is often sad, as you say, its underlying tone is unwaveringly hopeful right up until Game Over/the Retcon, and even kind of beyond that. If you prefer a sad story, then you can have a sad story, but it's just not a reading consistent (to me) with the entire rest of what Homestuck is.

For example, the whole narrative grapples with the debate of predestination vs. free will. Do things happen in Homestuck because they have to, or because characters are making choices? But with the introduction of John's retcon powers, it lands firmly in the "free will" side of the debate: the retcon powers outright defy the power of stable time loops - a reflection of how Breath is associated with freedom and choice. This is the optimistic option.

Another thing the narrative grapples with is the realness vs. fakeness of magic. I don't think it's hard to argue that between LE's "evil wizard" status and Godtier!Calliope's wand-induced black hole that the arrow falls firmly in the realm of magic being undeniably real. This is the optimistic option (and yet another narrative element that Eridan is extremely relevant to).

Moreover, even post-Retcon, there are elements that are kept that soften the tragedy already present in the story - for example, the concept of the Ultimate Self, and the implication that all surviving characters will eventually achieve it, takes the edge off all their doomed and dead counterparts, who won't actually be relegated to double death in the dream bubbles, since in a way, they'll live on through their alpha counterparts. It turns those sacrifices from bitter to bittersweet, and serves as a counterpoint to common takes like John being sad that he doesn't know the version of his friends that exist post-Retcon. The inclusion of it in the post-Retcon story, even with its botched delivery, says to me that Homestuck is still intended to be optimistic at its core, even with the extreme Giving Up that Hussie did.

And let's not forget how Calliope gets to come back to life, no strings attached, and that her stated purpose is only to live. Up to the end, the tone is that of HOPE, and I think there's no mistake that HOPE is supposed to be what defeats LE.

As I said in replies on that post, as an artist, I just can't imagine spending literal years, and literally a million words and thousands of images, writing something that's so thematically and tonally consistent, only to hard swerve right at the end, without extenuating circumstances.

And the thing is, there WERE extenuating circumstances, and they're fairly well-documented.

The kickstarter got funded, and while the story is muddled, we know the production of the game was extremely troubled, and Hussie was having difficulty being a project lead for that while also grappling with everything else. Everything else being, of course, an ever-increasing number of irons in the fire - more third-party artists he had to commission and manage, more merchandise he had to be on top of, bigger updates to sate the demands of the fanbase.

Which, speaking of, was infamously one of the most awful and toxic fanbases to ever exist, and one that Hussie has deliberately attempted to distance himself from since. I can't imagine the kind of daily abuse, harassment, callouts, and worse that Hussie had to endure as Homestuck's creator during the fandom's peak years. I don't blame him at all for turning against them.

Therefore, given the way the tone and themes hard swerve, the way several characters get bent entirely out of shape (you're telling me Karkat had several means before him of bringing his dead friends back and WOULDN'T SAY ANYTHING???), the way several plot threads are simply left dangling in the air, and the way some characters reach really weird and unpleasant conclusions (davepeta, gcatavrosprite), I think it's actually LESS reasonable to assume that the ending we got was the original plan. Hussie saw that to do the ending he wanted to do back in act 4, he'd need to write for a year, maybe two years more, and then looked at his mounting stress and pressure, and looked at the fanbase he'd come to hate, and just went "nope." And I can't even really blame him for it, lol. In his position I'd probably do the same.

Also, please don't mistake "the deaths are undone" for "the deaths will not have mattered" - I think there's a reason that the game over timeline characters still exist post-Retcon. Their arcs don't end with their deaths, and their failures are weights on them that must be narratively resolved - I believe that they go on to be the ones to defeat LE, although I have much less evidence to support this. It just makes narrative sense to me - the post-retcon team focuses down the Felt, various Jack Noirs, and the Condesce - the latter of which is their final boss, as the ultimate representation of the shitty society they're doing away with on their path to creating a new one.

Meanwhile, the dead and "irrelevant" versions of the characters, the ones who grappled with and were harmed the most by what LE represents - immaturity, selfishness, and cruelty - go on to band together after death, and defeat him in the bubbles, a culmination of their vengeance for the havoc he wreaked. And with him being destroyed in the bubbles by the dead and irrelevant, symbolically, he will be rendered nothing more than a bad dream for the waking, relevant, and alive.

Thus Gamzee is still an antagonist, although it becomes (Gamzee) and (Equius) who go on to form LE. Those deaths and those failures still matter, they still happen, they still have narrative weight. Even without the Game Over versions of the characters still existing and still being important, the decision to welcome antagonists like Gamzee and Eridan back into the fold is rendered more complex and more significant BECAUSE we've seen how badly they can go.

The speech originally given by post-Retcon Vriska to (Vriska) is also, to me, a weird artifact of this hypothetical original ending - as it exists within the actual comic, it's said by the wrong person to the wrong person - Vriska with her character development reset to a (Vriska) who's had her characterization destroyed in order to make the first Vriska seem more right. I think originally, it would've come from (Karkat) to Meenah, the latter of which being the one whose idea it was to fuck off with the treasure, and who caused the Beforus team's worst problems, and who has a track record of fucking off whenever she's tasked with taking responsibility. Thus, it would serve as a conclusion to Meenah and Karkat's arc, as well as Game Over Sadkat's arc specifically, would convince Vriska to go with him, and would give Meenah some narrative commeuppance, which would kickstart some sort of Beforan troll feelings jam that would rally them together to actually be useful for once in their lives/afterlives and contribute to the LE fight.

Again, if you PREFER the sad ending, I can't stop you, but the reason I'm going in on there being an "original ending" that isn't sad is because the sad ending doesn't make narrative sense. Why is the ultimate self speech coming from a combination of two characters that barely spoke? Why is it triumphant that Meenah and character-development-reset Vriska get to be the big goods in the fight with LE? Why do multiple prophecies suddenly get dropped right at the end when all other prophecies DO come true? Why does Karkat spend so long being sad his friends are dead, and also why is he deliberately set up as the Friends Troll (blood = bonds), and then suddenly not care that multiple methods exist for bringing back his friends? Why bother softening the blow of all the dead/irrelevant alternate selves if they're intended to be fully tragic? Why introduce a mechanic that would let them save whoever they want consequence-free and then not use it to do that? Why does Roxy love wizards so much and then not get to meet the wizard boy? Why is the entire rest of Homestuck so carefully crafted, so narratively satisfying, so thematically and tonally consistent, and then all of it goes to shit right at the end?

So yeah lol this is the SHORT version lol this isnt even the LONG version of this essay

[sofasoap]

Jazz club

Pairing: John Price x F!Medic! Reader (call sign : Chameleon)

Summary: Sometimes it's hard to keep focus.

Warning: M Theme. Innuendoes. Alcohol use.

A/N: as mention previously in my Little secret series, Reader is from immigrant/non-Caucasian background. I know nothing about military.

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Part of Little secret series

Series masterlist

Master list

Flood light dims, spotlights illuminate the lone figure standing centre of the stage. 

Soft intro chords on the piano were joined in by your soft yet powerful voice cutting through the droning chatter of the room. Sequin on the dress shimmering with the sway of the hip, your hands softly grasping the microphone on the stand as you moved into the chorus, pouring all your emotion of the song. 

All attention was on you. The conversations came to a halt. One by one, heads turning towards the stage, club patrons were entranced by your performance. 

Including a man hidden in the dark corner of the room, a cigar in one hand, tumblr glass filled with some sort of liqueur in another, you noticed his eyes fixed right on you the moment you stepped onto the stage.

You tried hard to focus on the audience in front of you, scanning across the room, searching for someone. Yet you couldn’t help yourself coming back to the man,  Even from a distance, the intensity of his stare flip a switch on inside you, lighting a fire in your core. 

Your eyes close as you reach the end of the song, letting the audience's applause and cheering wash over you. 

Sound of the band starting with the chattering noise arising again in the club, pulling you back into the zone, you decided to make your way off the stage, approaching the man. 

He seems to be slightly surprised with the way his eyes widened for a split second, and composed himself, ready for your approach. 

“Hello stranger. Here alone?” Tilting your head down slightly, you flash him a sultry smile as you come to a stop right in front of him.

“I am waiting for someone.” Man in the dark corner rumbled in his husky baritone voice, not giving much emotion away, or at least you think he is trying hard to keep his composure. 

Putting on an exaggerated pout and tapping your lip with your finger, “who might that be?” you asked with feign innocence. 

“My wife. She promised to join me for a drink later on. Once she is finished with her… official business.”  Voice is still controlled and steady, but his unabashed desire is evident as he scans your body up and down with ocean blue eyes.

“Oh. I am sure she wouldn’t mind you having some company in the meantime.” Not waiting for his reply, you lower yourself into his lap, looping your arms around his neck. 

As you lean closer to him, the heady smell of the cigar and whisky hits your senses, mixed with his leathery yet sweet smelling cologne. You hummed as you moved your hips around, trying to find a comfortable position, also teasing him. “You have a very beautiful voice.” He purred as you felt one of his hands pull you in tighter against him, the other slipping through the split of your dress, sliding in towards your inner thigh, edging closer towards your dripping core. 

“So does my husband say, especially when I call out his name in bed.” Undo the top two buttons, you slip your hand into the gap, scratching lightly on his chest and play with his chest hair.

“Chameleon. Price. Time to stop ….. Whatever little game the two of you are playing. Enough of the teenage flirting and get on with the mission. Target spotted on the other side of the room, in the VIP booth. ”  Ghost’s voice crackles through the comm, annoyed.

You threw your head back with a laugh. Leaning closer to your husband’s neck, to speak into the microphone,  you feel the goosebump and slight shiver of his body as you deliberately ghosting your lip over his ear lobe;

“I am sorry Ghost that you are not enjoying this little show we are putting on, Surely someone else will entertain you more at home.” Hearing other team members’ cackling and Ghost’s grumbling as you pull your own ear piece off and give your husband a light kiss on the lip before standing up, demeanour changes as you switch your focus to the mission.

“Bravo 5-6. Going dark.”

Tag list: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @rileyslibrarian

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar, @roosterr

@gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot, @writeforfandoms @whydoilikewhump @captainpriceslover, @tapioca-marzipan

[sansxfuckyou]

tear a hole exquisite red (fuck the rest, and stab it dead)

Summary: Creek has layers to his personality just like any other Troll does, rotting and wretched and vomit inducing layers, but he has layers nonetheless

Warnings: psychological manipulation, physical violence, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: @bulliestrolls started the psychopath Creek au, so go give him some love for all of the glorious ideas his brain spawns. also Creek's a bit of a whore, just to spite Branch even if it means sleeping with all four of his brothers, because I think it's funny. anyways! if ya'll enjoyed consider dropping a reblog or checking the Ao3 port, it really means a lot

It's all a game for Creek, he's playing the long con and Floyd is his perfect little experiment. Who knows, maybe after he inevitably decides to make Floyd cut the cord, he'll try for Bruce, really tear a hole into Branch and his family. He can laugh at the thought of getting Bruce to divorce, to manipulate him into leaving Brandy for another Troll after Creek himself picks apart Floyd and and gives Branch enough mental anguish for a thousand lifetimes.

But no, that won't be enough, not for Creek. Oh not in the slightest, not after all the agony that Branch has given Creek, his vendetta will never be satiated. Who knows! Maybe he'll go so far as to return Branch to his gray state, that'd be delectable. That could make him feel a sense of satisfaction if anything ever could, or Branch's head on a platter, but the downside to the otherwise beautiful idea is that he wouldn't be able to torture Branch anymore.

"Creek!" It's Floyd, the specific tone of his voice is one that Creek has learned to pick out of a hundred in a similar fashion to Branch's. Just so he can hunt down Floyd and use his sweetness and ignorance of Creek's intentions as a weapon. The magenta Troll has this adorable smile on his face, well, adorable if it weren't for the downturned ears that look just like Branch's.

Creek gives a smile, warm like a fireplace on the TV screen, "Floyd, lovely to see you," He catches sight of Branch trudging behind the slightly older and quells a smirk before tacking on, "My love."

Then he's being hugged and as much as he wants to recoil in disgust when it comes to anything that Branch has any form of relation too, he doesn't. He has a performance to enact, and he plans on fulfilling the part with precision as much as it makes him feel ill and want to gag. But at least Floyd is tolerable compared to the likes of John Dory, Clay, or Bruce. He has gripes against each of them for seperate reasons than being Branch's older brothers.

John Dory is far too obnoxiously loud and arrogant and stubborn and always thinks he's perfect, and apparently he bailed on Branch which he can respect. Clay is somewhat paranoid, always has this brat (Poppy's sister, disgusting) clinging to his side, his hair is a mess too. And Bruce, well, Bruce isn't half bad, his only problem is how often he says sorry for leaving Branch to raise himself, and his domesticity, it reeks like rotting flesh.

"What brings the both of you to my meditation alcove?" Creek asked, giving a small bow to his 'boyfriend' and his least favorite person. He wanted to just be cold and cruel to Branch up front and center, the amount of vitriol stored in his tiny body towards Branch and the queen was unreal, but he refrained. He didn't let it seep through the cracks of his composure, he didn't let it show through until he was alone and could tear something to shreds.

"My brother has been having anger issues again, and he's looking a lot more gray than usual," Floyd explained and Creek just watched Branch get even more agitated as Floyd spilled details that should be confidential, or saved for close Trolls at the least. But wait, that's right, Creek is a close Troll now, and Branch just has to deal with that.

Creek gives a hum as he steps ever closer to Branch and takes his paw, it's yanked away and Creek feigns hurt.

"Branch, he's trying to help," Floyd hissed.

"Really, Branch, I just want to lend a hand," Creek tacked on.

Branch gave a long groan of annoyance before reluctantly letting Creek take his paw, only because it made Floyd smile. He hated every second of his bristled fur brushing against Creek even though it was for just under ten seconds.

"Unless he finds a way to perk up," Creek goes the extra mile to grab the tips of Branch's ears and flick them up, the graying Troll stumbles back. Oh he relishes in that and tries to hide his smirk, "He'll go gray again, I'd suggest meditation."

"I'd suggest meditation," Branch bitterly smarms back at Creek who raises a paw to his chest in faux hurt that only Branch can see through for some fucking reason.

"Branch! If you make one more jab at Creek, I'll," Floyd falters, "There will be consequences."

"Love," Creek begins with, "It's fine, I'm used to dealing with children," The glare Branch shoots is sharp enough to slice diamonds, "If you'd like you can leave him here and I'll teach him the basics of meditation."

Floyd gives this soft smile, completely wrapped up in Creek's performance, and then he presses a kiss to the purple Troll's cheek. Creek returns the favor before Floyd speaks, "Thanks, Creek, I'll be back in hour," And then he's taking his leave.

"You're gonna leave me here? With him?!" Branch questioned, a frantic lilt to his voice as he spoke. Two paws held one of Floyd's, desperation clear with how he held himself.

"You're in good hands," Floyd answered with before gently lifting Branch's paws off his own, "I'll bring snacks when I return."

Branch knows he won't win, "Alright, be careful."

Both Branch and Creek wait patiently for Floyd to be out of earshot range before they interact any further. And their interaction consists of Branch trying to tackle Creek to the ground without any remorse behind his actions. Creek doesn't scream, doesn't writhe, doesn't kick or retalliate, and that scares Branch more than any other reaction could. Instead the Troll in question just smiles, this calculating and cruel one that oh so often is matched with the rest of the face, not now, his eyes are cold and most of his face is stilled.

"What do you want with my brother?" Branch tried to snarl, hands resting atop of Creek's arteries, a bit of pressure and he'll go lightheaded, maybe even pass out. It's illegal to kill a Troll, but every single day that Branch has to watch Creek feign domesticity around Floyd he gets closer to committing an atrocity.

Creek gives a hum, "Your suffering, as sweet as he is he's not my type," He watches Branch go through a thousand thoughts at once and the second he knows Branch is starting to formulate a response he adds on, "I'd go for a guy like Bruce if nothing else."

"You absolute cunt," The expletive is more of a harsh whisper, voice coarse with rage, "You homewrecker."

And Creek just laughs, "Oh, Branch, don't you get it?" He ever so carefully raises a paw and traces it across Branch's face, and he knows that the graying Troll would flinch back but he can't lest he wants to let go of Creek's throat, "I'll drop to lows you've never even heard of it'll hurt you- and if your brothers are the collateral damage? That's not really my problem."

"You're fucking sick, do you know how Floyd's gonna react hen he hears this? You'll break him," Was all that Branch could supply in response to to the downright sickening knowledge he had been given.

"And that'll hurt you, which is really what I'm looking for. But if I want a chance to have a go at any of your other brothers then I'll have to let him down easy," Creek said, "I've talked my way into getting a Bergen to not eat me and give up on happiness. You know damn well I can convince Floyd he's the monster so your brothers and all of Pop Village will come to my aid."

Branch steps back from Creek, speechless, and then the fucker laughs.

"They'll come to my aid Branch, they'll be doing everything they can to make sure I don't off myself while leaving Floyd to suffer- and the best part of it all, Branch? It's a two for one deal, and I just know that one of your brothers will be too caught up in making sure I'm okay to even realize how fucked Floyd is," Creek spat, "I'll fuck that one next."

"I'm gonna tell Poppy everything," Branch said firmly like the words would register as a threat to a Troll that's escaped death three times over now.

"She'll never fucking believe you," Creek answered with and the break of silence from Branch is all he needs as an answer. He stands up and makes his way over to Branch, firmly grasping his jaw, "What're you gonna do about it, Branchie?"

Branch doesn't have an answer ready for what he just had unloaded onto him, all he can do is wrench away Creek's paw. He steps back and wipes his paw off on his vest, "Something."

Creek gives a hum and a smirk, "Cute, you think you can beat me at my own game."

"Oh I don't think I can, I know I will," Branch snapped back with.

"We'll see," Creek said, again with this calculating and cruel smile on his face, "When Floyd crumbles you'll go down with him," It isn't an idea, it's something that Creek knows is true, "I look forward too it."

-/-/-/-

Its Bruce.

After Creek has cried a god damn ocean of crocodile tears and used gold to frame Floyd as the monster, Bruce ends up being his next weapon. And he even went so far into twisting Floyd's perception of reality that the magenta Troll is the one saying sorry even though he did nothing wrong. Even though he was the sweetest Troll in all of Pop Village, turned to a somewhat paranoid and reclusive Troll whose graying just like Branch is.

He loved Floyd to pieces. He loved Floyd into his basic elements. He loved Floyd into a million little bits that can never be arranged again. He loved Floyd and played him as the monster with so much accuracy that even the true victim was fooled into thinking he did everything wrong. He loved the way he played Floyd, he loved the way he could use Floyd, he loved everything about Floyd except for the fact that he was Floyd.

Maybe it's wrong, being a user in the way that Creek is, but he doesn't quite care. So long as it brings Branch mental agony than he'll be enacting it, whether it's him being the source of Floyd's joy or pain. And now he's going to go through the same song and dance all over again with Bruce, except, to a considerably more intensive degree.

Because with Bruce he has competition; and that would be Brandy, Bruce's soon to be former wife. What fun really, Creek can tear two families to shreds in one go while no one is looking. He'll gouge another gaping wound into Branch's family and he'll completely excommunicate Bruce from his family.

He's playing this pathetic act when he casts out the first bait for Bruce, sniffling and whimpering as he leans against the purple Troll. He has his knees hitched, "God, I just, I can't believe I was so blind for three months," He forces his breath to catch.

Bruce rubs comforting circles against his acquaintances back, "I wouldn't have seen it coming either, Floyd of all Trolls," It makes sense he'd never have seen it coming what with it never happening at all. All those years in acting school finally paid off for Creek, and he's using them to seduce a Troll with a wife and thirteen kids just to spite Branch.

"I don't even think any of the kisses were real," Creek sighed, slowly lowering his knees and tilting himself to face Bruce just a little bit more. He had to work this operation delicately, like giving someone a transplant, one wrong incision into Bruce's psyche this early on will botch the entire attempt. And he can't have that happening, no not at all, then he wouldn't have a chance to break apart Clay or John Dory afterwards.

"I get it, being the heart throb brings a lot of insincere praise your way," Bruce laughed a little bit as he spoke, edging away from Creek just a bit.

Creek gives this smile, the smallest upturn of his lips at one corner, "Well, if I kissed you it wouldn't be insincere," There's a slight twitch in Bruce's expression. Exactly what Creek is looking for.

"Yeah well, I'm married now, I have a wife willing to give me as many kisses as I so desire," Bruce said, a hint of defensiveness to his voice.

"Well," Creek begins, dragging out the 'L' as he speaks, "Brandy doesn't need to know, it's just between two friends isn't it?"

Bruce is crumbling, Creek can feel it, he can see it, he devours the destruction of resolve. The purple Troll gives a sort of discontented sound, a partially confused one, "Just between two friends, to make up for the falling out between you and Floyd."

Paws are already upon Bruce's face before he can finish his sentence because Creek already knew that the answer would be yes. He's swift to lean in and speak in a tone that he knows will snag Bruce on a barbed hook, "Thank you, Bruce."

And Bruce moves first and Creek has to try his hardest to not smirk into the kiss that picks up pace so much faster than he thought it would.

Hook, line, and sinker.

[cheynovak]

A Demon's Kiss Part 2

Demon Dean x F/Reader Y/N   

Warnings: Anger, aggression, nothing too bad. 

Side note: English isn’t my first language. 

-> @mayafatimakhan asked me to make a part two, so here it is, I did change the chase scene a little. Since it have been a while since I saw this scene. But have fun reading. <-  

*Does not follow The SPN storyline * 

-- 

Dean turned into a knight of hell, at one of his bar trips he sees an old flame from way back, Y/N the daughter of a hunter, he and Sam met years ago. Seeing her enjoying her time with a new man made him feel well... something. 

After their encounter Y/N decides to call Sam for help.  

--  

Y/N nervously tapped her fingers on the worn wooden bar counter, her mind swirling with a mix of emotions. She had never expected to run into Dean Winchester again after all these years.  

She looked at the display of her phone, she tried to call him , again. “This is Dean's other, other cell so, you must know what to do.” “Hi, it’s me... again. Call me.” With a sign hung up the phone.  

She knew the life he led, hunting monsters and facing dangers most people couldn't even imagine. And as much as she tried to let go, she couldn't shake off the concern that gnawed at her heart. Dean would never get possessed by a demon.  

Realising there was one other person she could call.  

"Hello?"  

"Sam," Y/N's voice wavered slightly, betraying her unease. 

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Sam's tone was filled with concern. 

Y/N hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to express her worries without revealing too much. "I... I ran into Dean," she began, her words coming out in a rush. "He seemed...” she had no idea how much Sam already knew so she chose her words carefully. “I'm worried about him." 

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Sam responded, his voice calm yet tinged with urgency. "Where are you?" Y/N quickly glanced around the dimly lit bar, her eyes searching for any signs of Dean. "I'm at Murphy's " she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"I'll be there soon," Sam said firmly before ending the call. As Y/N waited for Sam the memories of their time together washed over her.  

-- 

She was just sixteen when she met Sam and Dean for the first time, Dean at his age of nineteen seemed like the epitome of coolness to her adolescent self. Her father, also a hunter, often crossed paths with John.  

On that particular night, her father and John had gone on a hunt, leaving Y/N and Dean alone at their makeshift home base. Despite her attempts to act nonchalant, Y/N couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in her chest at the thought of spending time alone with Dean. 

As they sat in the dimly lit living room, the soft glow of the flickering television casting shadows across the walls, Y/N found herself stealing glances at Dean when he wasn't looking. She was acutely aware of his presence beside her, the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the musty smell of the old couch. 

Dean, ever the charmer, had flashed her a lopsided grin, his green eyes twinkling with mischief as he placed his arm behind on the couch. "What's on your mind, kiddo?" he had asked, his voice warm and teasing. 

Y/N had felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, quickly averting her gaze to the floor. "N-nothing," she had stammered, her heart racing in her chest. “Dean, leave the girl alone.” Sam said annoyed with his brother’s flirtation. ‘Do you have to hit on any and every female on the planet?”  

“Just a friendly conversation, Sammy.” He snapped back. “Mind your own business.”  

-- 

Her memories abrupt disturbed by the door that swung open, and Sam entered, his tall frame cutting through the dimness of the room. He quickly made his way over to Y/N, his expression grave. 

"Where is he?" Sam asked, his eyes searching hers for answers. 

Y/N nodded toward the corner where Dean had been sitting earlier, but he was nowhere to be seen. "He was here," she said, her voice tinged with worry. "He left not too long ago." 

Without another word, Sam reached into his jacket pocket, retrieving a set of keys. "Come on," he said, gesturing for Y/N to follow him. "We need to find him." 

Together, they hurried out of the bar and into the cool night air, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the deserted streets. As they climbed into the car, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu, as if she were being pulled back into a world she had tried so hard to leave behind. 

As the car sped through the night, Sam glanced over at Y/N, his expression filled with concern. "How have you been, Y/N?" he asked softly, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between them. 

Y/N sighed, her gaze drifting out the window as memories of the past flooded her mind. "I've been okay," she replied, her tone tinged with a hint of sadness. "Just trying to live a normal life, you know?" 

Sam nodded, his brow furrowing with guilt. "I'm sorry I dragged you back into this," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "You made a promise to your dad not to hunt anymore, and I..." 

Y/N reached out, placing a hand on Sam's arm. "Hey, it's not your fault," she said firmly, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. "Helping Dean doesn't count. He's family." 

Sam's expression softened at her words, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. "For being here for us, even after everything that's happened." 

As Y/N gazed out of the window, her thoughts drifted back to the last time she had seen Dean. Their relationship had always been a tumultuous rollercoaster ride, filled with highs and lows that mirrored the unpredictable nature of their lives. 

Being involved with Dean meant accepting the reality of his hunter lifestyle – the long absences, the constant danger. Their on-and-off dynamic had taken its toll on both of them, leaving Y/N torn between her love for Dean and the desire for a stable, normal life.  

But every time she tried to walk away, something or better yet someone, always pulled her back in. Y/N's father had hoped, dreamed she would choose a future away from hunting.  

He had seen Sam, with his steady and promising future in law school, to him he was the ideal match for his daughter her ticket out of the dangerous life they led. He couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved her daughter broke up with the older Winchester brother. But he was angry at him for breaking his daughter's heart. 

-- 

The Impala's engine hummed softly as Dean drove on the driveway in front of Y/N’s house. Y/N sat in tense silence, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Not getting out just yet. 

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with anger. "Dean, we need to talk." Dean glanced over at her, his brow furrowing with concern. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked, his tone cautious. 

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. "I can't do this anymore, Dean," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not." 

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched in frustration. "What are you talking about, Y/N?" he demanded, his tone defensive. 

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. "I'm talking about us, Dean," she spat, her words dripping with venom. "I'm talking about the fact that you kissed another girl while you were on a hunt." 

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. "Oh, come on, Y/N," he scoffed, his tone dismissive. "You know how it is when we're on the road. It's not like we're exclusive or anything." 

Y/N's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "That's not the point, Dean," she snapped, her voice rising with frustration. "The point is... y-you made me feel like I was nothing to you. I’ve known you for 5 years and you throw it away like that!” 

Dean shook his head, his temper flaring. "I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of this," he growled, his voice laced with irritation. "It was just a kiss. It didn't mean anything." 

Y/N's eyes flashed with hurt and anger, her chest heaving with emotion. "You don't get it, Dean," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You never have." She got out of the car running back inside.  

Her dad heard her getting inside, turning to greet her. “Hi sweetheart how was your... night?” But he soon noticed how Dean ran after her. Seeing how they continued the fight in the kitchen. “Y/N!” He raised his voice following her close.  

"Y/N, wait," Dean called after her, his voice tinged with frustration. "We need to talk about this." 

Y/N spun around to face him, her eyes blazing with fury. "Talk about what, Dean?" she spat, her tone sharp and biting. "The fact that you think it's okay to kiss other girls while I'm sitting at home waiting for you?" 

Dean's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You think you're the only one who's been waiting around?" he retorted, his voice rising with anger. "You think I don't know what you've been up to when I'm not around?" 

Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze locked with his. "I cared enough to wait for you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Even when you were miles away, I never once thought about being with anyone else." 

Dean's eyes widened in realization, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. "Y/N, I..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find words.  

"You know what, Dean?" she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Maybe I should have chosen Sam back then instead of you." Dean's eyes widened in shock, his expression crumbling with hurt. "Y/N..." he began.  

But she cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Save it, Dean," she said, her voice cold and unforgiving. "I'm done with this. I'm done with you. I want you out of this house, out of my life. Now!" 

-- 

"You can stay as long as you want.”  

Sam's voice broke through the haze of memories, pulling Y/N back to the present. Blinking away the little tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye? She glanced around, realizing they had arrived at the bunker Sam talked about earlier.  

"Thanks, Sam," she said quietly, her voice tinged with gratitude as she climbed out of the car. Sam nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "We'll find him, Y/N," he said, his voice firm with determination.  

--  

 

As days stretched into weeks, Sam's tireless efforts finally paid off. With a lead on Dean's whereabouts, they set out to find him.  

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of Y/N and Sam standing before him. "Well, well, well," he drawled, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. "Look who decided to show up." 

Y/N's heart sank at the bitterness in Dean's voice, the sting of his words cutting deeper than she cared to admit. "Dean, we're here to help you," she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. 

But Dean's expression remained hardened, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of resentment and disappointment. "Oh, I see," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You finally kept your word, huh? Went for Sammy instead of me." 

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his words, the pain of his accusation like a dagger to her heart. Opening old wounds. "Dean, that's not fair," Sam interjected, his voice firm with resolve. "Y/N's here because she cares about you. We both do." 

But Dean's expression remained impassive, his walls firmly in place. "Save it, Sam," he said dismissively. "I don't need your pity, and I sure as hell don't need hers. You need to let me go, both of you." 

Sam looked at her, she knew she needed to distract him. Physically she knew neither could handle him. So, she did what she knew would keep them going for a while.  

"You're such a damn hypocrite, Dean!" Y/N said, her voice filled with frustration. "You're the one who pushed me away, who made me feel like I wasn't good enough for you!" 

Dean's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "Oh, and you were just perfect, weren't you?" he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Always running back to daddy, and now again, showing up with his favourite little law schoolboy. Just like daddy dearest wanted.”  

Sam looked at her, immediately understanding what she was doing. "At least Sam was there for me when I needed him!" she retorted, her voice shaking with rage. "Unlike you, Dean, who only cares about himself!"  

Dean stepped forward, toe to toe, nose to nose. "You have no right to judge me princess." 

 Sam saw an opportunity. With a swift motion, Sam lunged forward, his hands closing around Dean's wrists before he could react. In one fluid motion, he snapped a pair of demon handcuffs around Dean's wrists, the cold metal biting into his skin. 

Dean struggled against the cuffs, his muscles straining against the invisible force that held him captive. "What the hell, Sam?" he growled, his voice laced with anger. 

Sam met his brother's gaze with a steely determination. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said, his voice firm yet filled with regret. 

-- 

Back at the bunker 

In the dead of night, the bunker was shrouded in darkness, the only sound the soft hum of the ventilation system. Y/N tossed and turned restlessly in her bed, her mind plagued by the events of the day. But as sleep finally began to overtake her, a sudden noise shattered the silence, jolting her awake. 

Rushing out of her room, checking Sam’s but saw his bed empty. Y/N searched frantically for Sam, her heart pounding with fear. And then she found him, lying unconscious on the floor, a deep gash on his forehead. 

Panic surged through her veins as she knelt beside him, shaking him gently in an attempt to rouse him. "Sam, wake up," she pleaded, her voice trembling with urgency. "Please, Sam, wake up!" Y/N realized that she couldn’t leave him like this. 

As she struggled to lift Sam's limp body, a sudden noise behind her caused her to freeze in place. Whirling around, her eyes widened in horror as she came face to face with Dean, his expression twisted with anger. 

"Y/N!" Dean growled, his voice low and menacing. "You think you can just lock me up and get away with it, princess?" 

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she backed away slowly, her mind racing with fear. "Dean, please," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "We just want to help you." 

Y/N backed into her room, her heart pounding with fear, she scanned the area frantically for something – anything – that could help her. And then her eyes landed on it – a small bottle of holy water sitting on the closet shelf next to the door. 

With trembling hands, Y/N grabbed the bottle, her fingers closing around it tightly as she steeled herself for what she had to do. As Dean's enraged shouts grew closer, she took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had left. 

As soon as Dean burst into the room, his eyes wild with fury, Y/N wasted no time. With a swift motion, she splashed the holy water directly into his face, the liquid sizzling on contact with his skin. 

Dean let out a howl of pain, his hands flying to his face as he stumbled backwards, momentarily stunned by the unexpected attack. Seizing the opportunity, Y/N darted past him, racing towards another room,  

In the meantime, Sam got back up and got to the control room locking the place down.  

With shaking hands, Y/N slammed the door shut behind her, her heart hammering in her chest as she fumbled for the lock. The bunker's emergency lights bathed the corridor in an ominous red glow, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with Dean's furious cries. 

With each passing moment, the sound of his voice grew louder, more menacing, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. It was like something out of a Hitchcock movie. "You're pathetic, Y/N!" Dean's voice echoed off the walls, his words echoing with a chilling finality.  

Dean's voice cut through the silence of the bunker like a knife, each word dripping with a venomous hatred that left Y/N feeling as though she had been punched in the gut. The insults he hurled at her were like arrows aimed straight at her heart, each one hitting its mark with a painful precision. 

"Nothing but a pathetic excuse for a girlfriend," Dean's voice echoed through the corridors, his words filled with a bitter contempt. "You were never good enough for me – always so damn needy, so damn jealous." 

"And in bed? Forget about it," Dean continued, his voice mocking. "You were always so damn awkward, you had no idea what you were doing, did you?" Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she listened to Dean's cruel taunts.  

Hearing how he was really close to the room she was hiding in. How he busted every door on his way to her. "Always trying to control everything, always trying to hold onto something that's long gone." 

"You're just like your father, Y/N," Dean sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"It's a good thing your daddy's dead, he'd be ashamed of what you've become. Just a sad, broken shell of a woman, unable to find anyone to start a family with." 

A soft gasp left her lips, Dean turned towards the sound.

"He's in hell, Y/N, you know that right? I saw him just last week. Making sure he gets torture for all eternity because of his own mistakes." 

She knew this wasn’t Dean talking, but as she sat alone in the darkness, listening to Dean's relentless tirade, she couldn't help but wonder if he was right. Had she truly failed her father's memory? 

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she heard Dean's heavy footsteps approach the door of the room where she was hiding. Panic surged through her veins as she realized that she was trapped, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. 

With a sickening thud, Dean's boot connected with the door, sending it crashing inward with a deafening crash. The door broke down in pieces, revealing Dean's enraged silhouette framed in the doorway, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. 

As he stepped through the door, a hand moved through his hear. "Let's finish this, you and me sweetheart."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide with fear as she backed away from him. "Dean, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. "Don't do this. You're better than this." 

"It's too late for that, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You made your choice when you locked me up like some kind of animal." 

Y/N gasped for air as Dean's strong grip tightened around her throat, pinning her against the cold, unforgiving wall. With each passing second, her vision began to blur, her lungs burning for oxygen as she struggled to break free from his grasp. 

Desperation flooded her veins as she reached up, her hands instinctively wrapping around Dean's wrist in a desperate attempt to pry his fingers away. “Oh kiddo, it’s a shame killing you. But on the bright side, you’ll see your daddy again, very soon.” 

In the tense silence that followed Dean's cruel words, Sam stepped forward, his grip tightening on the demon blade as he held it steady against his brother's throat. His jaw clenched with determination.  

 Dean's lips curled into a mocking smirk, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous edge. "Wow, look at you. Go ahead, Sammy," he taunted, his voice cold and unbothered. "Do it. Let's see if you've got the guts." 

But Sam's gaze remained fixed on Dean, "You don't get to call the shots anymore, Dean," Sam said, his voice firm with conviction. "Not this time." He backed Dean further back to the hall.  

As Sam hesitated, the tension in the room thickened, each second stretching out into an eternity. With a heavy exhale, he slowly withdrew the demon blade, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. 

"You don't have it in you, do you, Sammy?" Dean's voice was a low growl, his eyes dark with a mixture of disappointment and triumph. "You talk big, but when it comes down to it, you can't pull the trigger." 

As tension hung thick in the air, a sudden rush of displaced air announced Castiel's arrival. His presence seemed to fill the room with a calming energy, a beacon of hope amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf them all. 

Castiel's blue eyes shined bright, filled with a mixture of concern and determination. Without a word, he stepped forward, his arms outstretched to support his friend. Forcing to calm him down, putting him unconscious back into the chair.  

A few days into the treatment.  

Sam turned to Y/N, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and exhaustion. He noticed her gaze lingering on Dean's unconscious form, her expression a complex blend of emotions. 

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sam's voice was gentle, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. Her gaze tore away from Dean, her thoughts swirling with a tumult of conflicting feelings. She forced a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice unsteady. "Just... seeing him like this, it's hard, you know?" Sam nodded understandingly, his own gaze flickering back to his brother. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said quietly. "But we're doing the right thing.” 

"I know," she murmured.” Are you sure he is cured?” She asked Castiel. “He is, I can feel it.” “Good.” she said walking away to her room.  

Y/N's hands paused mid-motion as she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Castiel standing in the doorway, his expression gentle yet concerned. 

"Y/N, may I come in?" Castiel's voice was soft, she nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, Cas." His gaze fell upon the packed bags strewn across the bed. His brow furrowed in concern as he took in the sight, his eyes lingering on Y/N's neck.  

"Are you alright, Y/N?" Castiel asked, his voice filled with genuine worry. "I'm okay." she said, her voice tinged with a hint of discomfort. "Just a few bumps and bruises nothing I haven’t had before." 

But Castiel wasn't convinced. With a gentle touch, he reached out to inspect her injuries, his grace flowing through his fingertips like a soothing balm. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her body as Castiel's healing touch washed away the pain, leaving her feeling rejuvenated and whole once more. 

"Thank you, Cas," Y/N murmured, looking in his piercing blue eyes. “Thank you for being such a good friend for them.” Castiel offered her a small smile in return, the door to her room creaked open, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she saw Dean standing there, his expression hesitant.  

"Y/N, can we talk?" Dean's voice was soft, his tone tinged with a vulnerability that she had rarely seen from him. Y/N nodded, "Of course.” 

As Dean took a seat beside her on the bed, Y/N felt a rush of conflicting emotions wash over her – anger, hurt, but also a flicker of hope. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Dean began, his voice thick with emotion. "I never meant the things I said to you.” His hand took hers.  

"I know," Y/N replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness as she pulled her hand away from Dean's. She rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate as she turned away from him, her heart heavy with the weight of their shared pain. 

Dean watched in silence as Y/N began to pack her bag once more, the sound of her movements echoing through the room like a painful reminder of their past. As Y/N zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, she spared one last glance at Dean, her eyes filled with a mixture of longing and regret.  

“Are you leaving?” He asked in a soft voice, while getting on his feet. Taking a deep breath, Y/N met Dean's gaze head-on, her heart pounding in her chest. "You're cured, Dean," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside her. "That's why I came here to make sure you were okay." 

“Don’t you think we need to talk about what happened?” Taking a deep breath, Y/N turned to face Dean, her eyes searching his for answers. "What do you mean, Dean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. 

Dean hesitated, his gaze flickering away from hers for a fleeting moment before returning. "I mean... about us," he replied, his voice quiet yet determined. "About what happened between us all those years ago." 

"I... I don't know, Dean," Y/N admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "It's been a long time since then, and a lot has happened since we were together." 

Dean nodded, his expression somber as he met her gaze. "I know," he said softly. "And I'm sorry for everything that happened between us. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N, I just... I didn't know how to handle everything back then." 

"I know, Dean, we were young." she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think about that fight all the time." Dean said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "I shouldn't have left, I should have worked things out with you, instead of running away like a coward." 

“Really?” Her eyes teared up, Dean nodded, his expression somber as he met her gaze. "I wish I could go back and change things, Y/N. Ask you, your dad for forgiveness."  

“Please stay a little longer, let's start over, we can get to know each other again. For old times.” She saw the honesty in his eyes. She dropped her bag on the floor. 

"I forgave you a long time ago, Dean," Y/N said softly, her voice filled with a quiet resolve. "But I can't stay here. I never wanted this life.” Their eyes lock "I understand, All I want is for you to be happy." Dean replied quietly, his voice tinged with sadness.  

Her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She reached up to cup Dean's cheek in her hand, her touch gentle yet firm 

“I'll tell you this, why don't you call me when you are ready to leave this life.” 

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss – a goodbye kiss, filled with all the love, longing and pain they had never been able to express. Just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.  

“Goodbye, Dean," she said softly, before leaving him in the empty room. 

As he watched her go, Dean’s fingers traced his lips, like he could keep the feeling of their kiss just a little longer.  

Wondering if they would ever find their way back to each other.  

---

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list: -> If you want to be added just let me know what you like to read.

@yvonneeeee @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl

[3amfanfiction]

It’s Just Dinner pt 2

Part 2 to this. Kyle offers you to John for the night (no smut). MDNI

Cw: gazlighting, manipulation, forced prostitution

What?

Your ears tune back in, the whine receding, just in time to hear, "—and then the way he wouldn't stop downright bragging about your date last time, it finally hit me what he would enjoy for his birthday—you!"

Your eyes stay focused on his hands, chopping through vegetables, getting ready to add them to the pan. His thick fingers holding the blade steady with his strong wrist controlling the downward motion.

"I don't—Kyle—" you finally manage, voice thin before it chokes back out, as if a fist is squeezing your throat, denying you the words.

Was this happening again? Something's wrong—isn't it?

You'd had a good time with John the last time you saw him. You were beyond mortified when you realized you'd been flashing your bra at him all evening and he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. But that's the kind of man he is—respectful, kind, considerate. But you still felt . . . uneasy . . . with this.

"What's all that fussing for, babe?" he asked, concerned as he set the knife down and finally turned towards you, leaning back against the counter with his palms pressed to the edge on either side of him, emphasizing his broad shoulders while his biceps curved out from the ends of his short sleeves. He frowned, brow furrowing as he looked at you. "What's going on in that beautiful, silly little head of yours?"

You shake your head as if trying to make your thought sort into their correct place, "I just—" just what? Were being anxious? Were being purposely difficult? "don't think I want to?" you finally settled on, voice upticking at the end despite you trying to be firm.

You watch as a quick wash of—dismay?—crosses Kyle's face, there and gone in a flash before he walks over and places his hands on your shoulders, "did something happen?" he squeezed firmly, grounding, before attempting to peer into your soul, "did he do something, love?" His brow was furrowed with concern, searching your eyes for the truth, "something that made you uncomfortable?"

You looked up, franticly rushing to reassure him, "no, no nothing like that!" oh god, what if he complained to John about you? What if you made them argue and then because they were distracted, one of them ended up dead? Because of you. Because of this? Your hands raised to press against his chest, taking in his warmth, how solid he was, still alive, still with you in your home. This was still able to be fixed. "John was fine—he was great even, I promise! It's jus—"

"Good," he cuts you off in relief, not realizing you were still talking, "that's good to hear. Cap would be heartbroken if he found out he'd scared you away. He looks tough," his voice lowered as if imparting a national secret, "but he's the best out of all of us."

///

At least you got a new outfit out of it.

Kyle makes a great shopping buddy, he makes sure to always carry the bags and get the bill. He didn't even mention your pouting in the beginning, simply stopping by a food truck on the way to get you a treat. You were almost embarrassed by how quickly your mood did a 180.

He also normally likes everything you pick, but today—

"Not that dress love."

"You don't like it?" You ask, taken aback for a moment before turning in the mirror to take another look. You though it was quite flattering when you'd first put it on. The material swished nicely as you twisted your hips, trying to look at the back of the dress and see what he saw.

Kyle scoffs almost dismissively, "that's not it, you're bloody gorgeous in everything you wear and that dress is stunning on you." You watch in the mirror as he comes up to you, wrapping his arms around you before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "The captain just asked if you could wear gold tonight is all."

What?

He—he was picking out your dress too? It felt like you just ran face-first into a brick wall, a cheeping trio of birds flapping around in a circle above your head. Kyle clearly didn't see an issue and continued, "since this is a birthday dinner the brass are hosting for him, matching helps him blend in a bit better."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, palms resting on your stomach before he pulled you firmly into him, fingers digging into any softness he could find. He began nibbling on the thin skin behind your ear as one palm crept up to pinch a nipple. When you gasped at the shock of it he pulled away to pat you on the ass, "well—blend in as much as he can with such a stunning woman on his arm."

///

As was apparently becoming tradition, Kyle wanted a picture of you in your new underthings. This time you were standing at the bathroom counter, just your panties and bra on while you leaned towards the mirror, finishing your hair. You had made eye contact with the phone through the mirror right as he snapped it, a wide, doe-eyed startled look being portrayed.

///

"—and who is this charming creature?" one of the men John had been speaking with asks, looking over to you.

John answers with subtle delight, "this stunning vision is my date for the night," not trying to hide his warm regard for you.

You closed your mouth, half-formed words bitten back behind your teeth before you smile at the man, extending a hand when he reaches out.

Fading into the background as you've been doing for most of the night, you let this most recent conversation wash over you. John had been steering you around the room with a hand pressed low on your back all evening, moving from one group to the next with ease, seeming to know everyone.

A half hour in had you surreptitiously checking John's watch. That's how long it took before you were no longer entranced by the beautiful dresses and stunning suits, admiring the women with too much jewelry and the girls standing next to men old enough to be their father. Although, you really couldn't jud—

"Of course," John said agreeingly as he turned to you, "you don't mind do you, pet?"

You scrambled to remember the last few moments of conversation, drawing a blank before John took pity on you, smiling indulgently, "our conversation is going to be too boring for those pretty ears, why don't you go find something to drink and we'll meet back up once I'm finished.

"Of course!" you reassure, not upset in the least to leave the conversation you've had no part in, "I'd love a moment to freshen up." You smile up at him, preparing to step away when he reaches a hand to the back of your neck, careful to not muss your hair.

A half-step forward as he leans towards you, gapping the distance, causes his kiss to brush the corner of your mouth rather than land on your cheek. He holds for a moment, his warm hand cupped around the back of your neck keeping you still before pulling away; a muted pop sounding as his lips left your skin.

"Have fun, sweetheart," smiling down at you, eyes warm and inviting, "you come find me later." With that commandment he turned away to fall into conversation with the two gentlemen, no longer concerned with your presence.

///

The door almost dented the wall when you reached the restroom and flung it open, the muted bang causing the trembling in your hands to worsen.

What was that? Why'd he kiss you at all, let alone like that? Was it an accident or did he do it on purpose?

Whirling around your brain in a fury, these thoughts all screamed for your full attention. You couldn't focus on any one emotion until dread claimed first place with the thought, what's Kyle going to think?

Your partner of years, the person you loved most . . . and his boss had kissed you. If you thought them getting into an argument before would be bad, this is going to be catastrophic. You need to tell him what happened.

But.

But it might've been an accident. John was definitely aiming for your cheek before he moved—the adjustment skewing his trajectory. Maybe he stumbled and that was the only way to keep from falling. There were people all around, someone could have bumped into him, causing him to need to hold onto you so he didn't embarrass himself.

You were grasping at straws and you knew it but it was—technically—a possiblity so was it truly worth upsetting Kyle about it?

He would be so angry and so hurt, possibly at both you and John with how emotions sometimes work. Did you want to open that can of worms when there was a chance—however slim—that it was an accident?

What kind of person did it make you if you said no?

You blinked at your reflection, leaning down on the counter with a conflicted expression before resolve began to peek through.

No, you weren't going to tell Kyle . . . yet.

You were going to wait. You were going to wait and see how John acted the rest of the night. If he tried to push boundaries or if he, god forbid, tried to kiss you again, then you'd tell Kyle as soon as you got home. You would lay it all out for him from the beginning to the end and let him deal with it.

But if John behaved appropriately, if he didn't try to touch or kiss you, then you would assume it was an accident.

It wasn't perfect but it was a plan. How John acted would determine what you told Kyle. It was out of your hands now, you were just an observer. The relief at coming to a decision washed through you, causing the trembling to begin again before you clenched your hands tightly and took a deep breath.

You could do this—act like nothing is wrong because nothing is wrong. You're going to leave the bathroom, get a drink, and mingle for a bit until John came to find you.

With one final look in the mirror to see the determination pointed back at you, you turned to head back to the party.

///

It was late by the time you got home and you were exhausted. Your feet ached, you had a headache brewing behind your eyes and you were starving. Why had you done this again?

Before you could make it passed the entryway Kyle was coming into view, called by the click of the door closing. His face lighting up at seeing you home.

"There's my best girl, how did your night go darling?" he smiles as he comes over for a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you, squeezing firmly.

You take a steadying breath, leaning into him for a moment, borrowing his strength. The whole ride home you had second guessed your bathroom decision, running through the pros and cons repeatedly. And now it was time.

How was tonight?

"It was great love. I had a good time," you pulled back to smile at him, hoping your gaze reflected nothing but honesty.

///

Next || Story Repository

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

hi! i saw you were doing requests, and i was wondering if you could do a oneshot of reader sleeping in john's tent for the first time because its all snowy and cold :3

❄️ cold snow and warm arms ೃ࿔*

word count - 700

warnings - brief mention of death, no mention of abigail or jack, john being awkward ( love him!! ) , gn!reader

author’s note - i love writing for red dead characters!! thanks for the cute req, i hope you enjoy reading ₍ᐢ. . ᐢ₎♡!

after weeks of being up in the harsh winds and snow of colter, the van der linde gang thought they were finally out of the miserable weather. they had relocated to horseshoe overlook, a quiet camp in the heartlands of new hanover. the first week or so had been decent weather, albeit a little chilly, as it was still early spring.

however, after not even two weeks of being in the new camp they were hit with a massive cold front, which unfortunately brought snow along with it. the entirety of the camp retreated inside their tents, the grounds of horseshoe overlook the quietest it had been since the rowdy gang arrived.

the canopy you usually slept under didn’t provide nearly enough warmth for a cold night like tonight, so john had offered to let you stay with him, which you gladly agreed to. you and john hadn’t been together for very long, you only finally confessed your feelings after he was attacked by those wolves up in the mountains. when he hadn’t returned to camp after days, you regretted not speaking up about the feelings you harbored towards him, and it all came spilling out once you saw him, bloody, cold, and inches away from death once arthur and javier had brought him back to camp.

you got settled into his tent, sitting down on his bedroll. you had already changed into comfier clothes for the night, and you were waiting for john to return with some of pearson’s barely palatable stew.

a couple minutes later he came back, one bowl of stew in each hand. he sat down next to you and handed you a bowl, to which you smiled gratefully and thanked him quietly. while pearson’s stew was usually bland and not enjoyable, you were glad you had food to eat. kind of. some days if you wait too long, the stew will be boiled beyond recognition, and turns into a chunky sort of sludge. that’s when you would resort to canned peaches or beans that you had hidden away in your satchel. thankfully the stew was just about edible today.

you ate together, making small talk in between bites of stew. after that, you set your bowls aside laid down on his bedroll together.

you laid down facing him, and looked into his eyes for a moment. he looked worn out, everyone in the gang was. running from the law and being out in the snow for weeks wasn’t exactly the easiest thing. you cupped just cheek gently, being careful not to touch the stitches that ran across his face. the wolf attack had left him with nasty cuts, ones that would definitely scar, but they didn’t make him any less attractive to you. plus, not many people could say they endured and survived a wolf attack. you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, slightly off center as to not disturb the cut the that ran through the right side of his lip. he kissed back and although his kisses were a little awkward, you didn’t mind. they were sweet in their own way.

you shifted on the bedroll next to him, cuddling up to him carefully. he went stiff for a second before slowly melting into and getting more comfortable with your touch.

“warm enough?” he asks quietly, cautiously putting his arm around you as you adjust the blanket that was draped across both of you.

you nod, “yes, are you?”. he nods in response, carefully pulling you closer.

when you first got together john was not the most affectionate. partly because he was still recovering from the wolf attack, and also because he simply wasn’t used to physical touch. you noticed that despite how awkward he still felt, he was slowly becoming more comfortable around you. the way he held you close to his chest, his chin resting on top of your head made your face flush slightly.

“good night, john” you said quietly.

“good night” he responded, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

neither of you said much else, quickly falling asleep in each other’s arms. the harsh winds outside were nothing compared to how warm and safe you felt in john’s arms.

© pursuedbyamemoryy 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work

[sjsmith56]

The Gilded Age, Part 7 - Satisfaction

Summary: Amelia treats Sergeant Barnes’ wound but when he comes back to her room during the night because it isn’t healing, she deals with it there.

Length: 6.3 K

Characters: Sergeant Barnes, Amelia, Dr. Banner, the Avengers, Harley, Hannah.

Warnings: period accurate wound care (not as stringent as modern practices), conversation containing sexual references, some angst.

Author notes: That's it for this AU set in 1899.  My first draft of this part was originally more sexually explicit but it didn't sit right with me.  Barnes wanted to take things slowly to ensure that the object of his affections, Amelia, would be of the same mind as him, regarding physical relations between a man and woman.  Knowing that she was inexperienced, he didn't want to risk souring the moment by "taking" her in the manner desired by her other, unwanted suitor, John Walker.  Regardless, even though he admitted to having the same urges, the gentleman in him refused to let him use that as an excuse.  I hope you enjoyed this.  Divider by vecteezy.com.

<<Part 6

Part 7 - Satisfaction

As the airship landed, Mr. Winston, Mrs. Stark, and several other staff who normally wouldn't be on the 21st floor were there to meet it, holding the lines and securing them until Mr. Stark could cut the engines and land it on the rooftop. A gurney was there for Pietro to be carried down the stairs, then wheeled to the 19th floor where an operating room was already set up. Mrs. Stark had also set up a treatment area for Sergeant Barnes.

"You take care of the Sergeant while I assist Dr. Banner," she said to Amelia when they arrived in the medical lab. "Everything you need is here."

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I just need the wound to be bandaged."

"James, sit," ordered Mrs. Stark, her hands on her hips, until he did as he was told.

He sat, then allowed Amelia to unbutton his uniform jacket, then remove his shirt and undershirt. The wound, located just under his ribs on his right side was bleeding freely. Pressing a dressing onto it, Amelia placed Barnes' hand on it to keep it in place, while she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and washed her hands in the sink, using the carbolic soap. A clean gown was folded up on the table and she pulled it on, tying it behind her, then pulled an apron on over top. Once that was secure, she washed her hands again, drying them on a clean towel and putting rubber gloves on. Gingerly pulling the dressing away she looked with some alarm at the bleeding then looked up at the Sergeant.

"Why is it bleeding so much?"

"He probably hit an artery or the organ," was his answer. "As long as it's not a major one it will eventually start to close and heal. You just need to bind it tighter so that there's pressure on it. Really, it hardly hurts."

"Damn John Walker," she whispered, as she unwrapped two dressings and tied them together. "He could have killed you."

"But he didn't," answered Barnes.

She pulled the old dressing off and cleaned the wound with antiseptic, making Barnes hiss in pain. Then she inserted two discs of Dr. Banner's herbal concoction before pressing the double dressing onto it and tying it tightly around his waist. Next, she picked up a large roll of wide gauze and wrapped it around his middle several times, before tying it off. Checking to make sure it was secure she helped him off the table, then wrapped her arm around his waist.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Helping you to your room," she replied. "You need to rest."

"I have to clean my weapons."

"Tomorrow, tonight you rest." He stopped and she looked up at him, exasperated. "Please, James. It's important that you allow your body to stop the bleeding. If you're moving around too much it will keep it from healing. You know that."

He nodded, allowing her to help him into the elevator. There was so much Barnes wanted to say to Amelia, but she wouldn't look at him, so he said nothing. When they got to his door, he turned the dials to his combination lock and pushed the door open. Flipping the light switch for the main room, then his bedroom, she helped him to his bed, then undid his trousers, and helped take off his boots.

"Where are your nightclothes?" she asked. "Take your trousers off while I get them."

"Hanging on the back of the bathroom door," he answered.

She retrieved them, then helped redress him, as he watched her intently pulling his bottoms up over his long johns and buttoning up the top.

"Amelia," he began.

"Hush," she whispered. "I have to clean up and prepare for the others. We can speak in the morning."

He nodded his head, as she was right. There were other injuries that she had to see to.

Carefully, he laid down and she covered him up then turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Thank you," he said, sincerely.

She nodded. "Try to get some sleep."

Turning off the light there and in his main room, she left and returned to the elevator. As soon as the door of the elevator was closed, she cried, then wiped her tears before the 19th floor was reached. Ten minutes later, she began getting others in. All of them who sought treatment from her asked after Pietro, but she didn't know as the door to the operating room was still closed. She treated the others then cleaned up the mess and removed her apron and gown, putting them in the basket for dirty linens.

It was well past midnight, and she was tired. In her room, she took off the boy's clothes, wondering if anyone had thought to bring her clothes that Pietro had placed in the sack. Filling the bathtub with several inches of water she had a quick bath, removing the day's grime from her skin. Then she put her nightgown on and sat at her vanity, undoing her hair to brush it out. Breathing calmly, she brushed her hair in long smooth even strokes then braided it again, tying it with a ribbon. For a moment, she thought she heard something but shook her head until she heard it again, a knock on her door. It was quiet, more like a tap, and she moved to the door.

"Yes?"

"May I come in?"

It was James. He shouldn't be up out of bed, as he was still healing. She opened the door to Barnes standing there, in his robe, with his hand pressed against his side.

"My wound won't stop bleeding."

"Come in," she said, in a hushed voice, closing the door behind him. "Sit down on the couch and remove your robe."

He undid the belt and painfully pulled the robe off one arm, then switched hands to press into his side, as he slid the other arm off. Amelia took it from him, noticing there was blood on his pajama top.

"Why is it doing this?" she asked, looking at him with concern.

"There must be something in the wound," he explained, "and it's keeping the blood vessels from healing. I didn't want to bother Dr. Banner as he's probably still dealing with Wanda's brother."

"Let me get some bandages and a suture kit. Stay here."

Wrapping her robe tight around her, she left her room and went down to the medical lab. Through the open door of the small room set up for patient care, she could see Dr. Banner, Wanda and another woman sitting with Pietro, still unconscious after his surgery. Quietly, Amelia found a suture kit, antiseptic, and extra bandages. She turned to leave then heard Banner's voice, as he approached her.

"Who needs those?"

"James," she said. "His wound is still bleeding. He thinks there's something inside preventing the blood vessels from healing. I can perform the procedure. How is Pietro?"

"Still not doing well," he said, in a low voice. "I honestly don't know if he'll survive. There's only one thing that might help him; a transfusion from either Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes, and neither of them are in a position to give blood right now. There's also a chance their blood isn't compatible and that could kill him. If he's not improving by morning, I'll have to draw blood from each of them and test it against his to see if there is an adverse reaction." He looked at the sutures kit in her hand. "It could be metal shards from the broken blade. You'll have to remove them and use the catgut to suture the artery. Make sure you have enough light. I have faith in you, Miss Winston."

She smiled sympathetically to him and returned to her suite. Barnes was where she left him, still in obvious discomfort.

"Are you able to walk to the bathroom?" she asked. "It would be easier to clean your blood from the floor than from the carpet. The light is also better in there and I need to see into the wound."

He nodded and stood up, putting his other arm out to her for support. With her arm around his waist, she slowly walked him to the bathroom, then brought a chair for him to sit on. Bringing the suture kit, antiseptic and extra bandages with her, she placed them on the vanity counter.

"Let's get your shirt off," she said, quietly.

Unbuttoning his blood-stained shirt, she gently pushed it off his shoulders, then took it off completely as he released his hand from his double pressure bandage, which was quite bloody. She looked up at him with alarm.

"Has it been doing this all along?"

"Perhaps," he said. "I didn't think so at the time you originally bandaged it, but the pain didn't lessen, and the bleeding hasn't slowed down."

"You'll have to lie on the floor on your other side," she suggested. "I don't want to do this with you sitting or standing up."

He obeyed and lay on his left side, while she pulled his pajama bottoms and long johns down a bit, exposing more of his skin. Tucking a towel into them she draped another above the wound. Next, she washed her hands, with carbolic soap she had in her medicine cabinet. She opened the sutures kit, preparing both catgut and silk sutures then washed her hands again, before putting on rubber gloves. Acknowledging Barnes, she cut the gauze holding the dressing in place as he uncovered the wound, removing the dressing himself. First, she used the antiseptic to cleanse the wound, making him wince in reaction, while she prepared herself to explore inside with tweezers. Carefully she examined the wound and saw that blood was seeping around a minuscule piece of jagged metal caught in a blood vessel. With a deep breath, she reached towards it with the tweezers and withdrew it, dropping it on the edge of the white sink.

"It's just a sliver of metal." She looked at his pale face. "Do you feel there are more?"

He nodded. "There may be another as there is still a sharp pain in the area. It must have broken from Walker's sword when he stabbed me."

Once more she cleansed the wound, taking note as Barnes winced, and his breathing quickened. Then she saw it, a tiny fragment of metal, as long as a dress bead and as thin as a part in a fine pocket watch. Steeling herself, she grasped it with the tip of the tweezers and lifted it out, depositing it next to the other piece. The blood vessel would need a catgut suture, as it would dissolve over time while it healed. Moments later, she was ready and carefully put several catgut stitches on the damaged artery, then watched as the bleeding visibly slowed.

"The catgut should keep it together until it heals," she said. "I must clean the site again before I use the silk sutures for your cut. I know you do not normally need them, but I think the blood vessel will heal better if the wound is closed. It's going to hurt."

"You're doing exceptionally well," murmured Barnes. "I can withstand the pain."

Once again, she cleansed the wound with antiseptic. Carefully, she stitched up the wound, cleaned it, then packed several discs of Dr. Banner's herbal concoction around it. Finally, she placed a new dressing on it and wrapped it firmly in place. Removing the towels and returning his long johns and pajama bottoms to their position she finally looked at Barnes in the face.

"I think those will hold but you'll have to be careful when you move."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault that John Walker practically stabbed you with a broken blade when you were turned away from him," she answered. "He truly had no honour."

He placed his hand on hers. "No, I'm sorry for all of it. For lying to you and sending you away. For putting you in danger, for him hurting you, for you witnessing the brutal nature I displayed in my battle against him, then witnessing his death. You must detest me."

"I don't detest you, James," she responded emotionally. "John Walker manipulated you into sending me away. He gloated about it. Pietro explained that the serum made his cruel streak stronger, his arrogance worse and his condescension unbearable. He thought he was invincible when he challenged you, and you had no choice but to match his efforts. Even then, he almost killed you. How you found the strength to dispatch him then, I'll never know."

Her voice broke and the tears began to fall. Slowly, painfully, Barnes raised himself to a sitting position, while holding his side, to avoid putting strain on the wound. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her in close, kissing her on the head.

"Have I destroyed any possibility of you accepting me as a suitor ever again?"

"No." She breathed hesitantly. "I just don't know if I'm able to trust your intentions at this time. Would you send me away again, without even speaking to me of it?"

"No, I would never send you away again." He squeezed her slightly. "Even with your confinement on Pier 84 you showed resourcefulness and quick thinking. Your discovery of the stolen crate with the weapons that attuned themselves to the individuals in our Society, was serendipitous but you recognized their importance and risked your life to get them to us."

"Putting Pietro's life in jeopardy," she interjected. "I feel guilt for my part in his injury."

"You shouldn't. He performed a valiant act to save his sister. It proved her contention that he was not with HYDRA by choice."

She accepted his observation then patted him on the hand. "Let's get you up. You can rest on my bed while I clean up in here. Then I'll help you back to your room."

Together they got him onto his feet, then Amelia supported him to her bed, leaving him on top of the covers while she returned to the bathroom, to clean up any spilled blood and the remains of the soiled dressings. What took only a short time for her was long enough for Sergeant Barnes to fall asleep, understandable as the man had apparently been awake two days and nights. His face was peaceful and serene in his repose and Amelia had no wish to interrupt the sleep his body so desperately needed. In the chest at the end of the bed, she retrieved an extra blanket, draping it over him, then she removed her robe and climbed under the bed clothes beside him. Turning the light off, she laid so she could see him in the dark, then she turned the other way and soon fell asleep.

When the first stirrings of awakening broke through into Amelia's awareness, she felt comfortably warm, and her hand was caressing the source of that warmth. The source also smelled wonderful, even with the slight scent of antiseptic that she detected. With a quick intake of breath, she opened her eyes, finding herself curled into the side of Sergeant Barnes, his flesh arm surrounding her as he clasped her close to his body, the upper portion of which was unclothed, as the blanket had fallen to his waist, displaying the manly form that Amelia admired. In the semi-darkness before the dawn, his eyes were focused on hers but instead of surprise or discomfiture, they displayed a fondness that was most welcome.

"You were comfortable, and I didn't want to disturb you," he murmured. "Now that we are both awake, I still don't want to move from this position. It is very satisfying."

"Is it?" She caressed the soft curls on his chest, then looked shyly at him. "You're very warm."

"My usual state when I am healthy. I believe your medical efforts on my behalf have been rewarded. There is no pain in my side, although there is still discomfort."

"Where?"

She sat up and leaned away from him, to better see the dressing on that side. Intercepting her hand with his metal one, he brought it to his lips and kissed the palm, before lowering it to the spot on his chest where his heart was located, covering her hand with his hand.

"Here. It still awaits your judgement."

Their positioning was incredibly intimate, with Amelia poised overlooking Sergeant Barnes' face and chest. His one arm was still curled around her waist, with only a cotton nightgown between it and the soft skin underneath, while his free hand held her other hand in place on his chest. With only the gaze of his eyes on her, Amelia could feel the beginnings of that sensation in her nether regions, the sensations that Barnes described as the commencement of coming, a desirable state, in his opinion. How she longed for the touch of his hand on her skin, to feel the warmth of his unclothed body against hers, to perhaps experience the coming in his arms. Especially now, after they shared the same bed. Without hesitation, she leaned over him, watching his face intently. His hand still held hers on his chest but he pressed her closer to him with his other hand. Their lips connected, slightly open at first, as the kiss started out gently. When it deepened, his hand moved up her back so that her body was pressed against his. She could easily yield herself completely to him and wanted to but something made her pull away.

"If I say that you are forgiven and I wish to continue from where we paused two evenings ago, what happens then?"

"Then I commit myself to you fully and completely, dearest Amelia. My heart, my body, and my soul will be yours to command."

"Allow me to experience everything with you, from this moment." She searched his face. "Continue what you started and educate me in the intimate ways between a man and a woman in their boudoir."

"You are certain?"

"I command it."

Raising himself on his elbow Barnes freed the hand on his chest and caressed her face, before pulling her closer to him again, presenting her with another kiss that was filled with a burning desire, while still maintaining the softest of touches. With delicacy, he ran his hand down Amelia's shoulder, then arm, then caressing her chest over her nightgown in a manner that affected Amelia’s breathing. Resuming his hand’s journey down her body he extended it towards the bedclothes that covered her. As her heartbeat increased with anticipation she was puzzled when he drew the bedclothes over her instead.

"Why did you stop? I am ready for my education in the ways of love to continue."

"So, they shall, dearest," he answered. "But there are limits on us both as your father resides in the suite directly across from yours. He has given us his blessing but my presence in your bed might still be interpreted in a negative manner. I respect him and you too much to risk exposing you to his disappointment." He glanced at the dressing on his right side. "I might also tear my stitches that you took such great care in applying."

Frowning a little, Amelia sat back against the headboard. "Well, what can we do?"

Carefully, Barnes raised himself to sit next to her. "We can kiss, and touch and talk. Or I can return to my apartment before anyone else rises."

"Will you touch my body more?"

"If you wish me to," he replied. "Will you touch mine?"

A sweet but knowing smile formed on Amelia's face. "Will you let me see your manhood?"

"Hmmm." He drew his knees up and rested his hands on them. "What is it you're expecting to see?"

Her face became warm as she contemplated how to answer that question. Ever since she had touched the firmness of the bulge in his trousers, she had wondered what that part of the male anatomy looked like when it was aroused. There was also the comment James made about it being likely to go off too soon if it was overly eager. Whatever did he mean by that? Taking a quick breath, Amelia shifted so she was facing him directly.

"Is it firm like it was two nights ago?" He nodded. "I have never seen one in that state. Would you allow me to touch it?"

Now the knowing smile appeared on Barnes' face as he considered her request. "It might go off and startle you. It is the source of the man's seed that connects with a woman's seed inside her body, creating a child in the process."

"I'm aware of how a new life is created." Amelia became flustered. "I just didn't know the logistics of it."

"I think it best we wait until your father has returned to Chicago before we gaze upon each other's unclothed bodies and touch more intimately," he said, reluctantly, to the obvious dismay on her face, as she looked away. "Amelia, look at me." Gently, he placed his hand under her chin and turned her visage towards his. "There is nothing I want more than to lay with you, our bodies unclothed and intertwined as two vines forever connected. I shall do one thing in this life – one thing certain – that is, love you, and long for you, and keep wanting you till I die."

She gasped. "You know Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy?"

"I know many written works," he replied, caressing her arm. "While I recuperated from my injuries I read extensively about many things. Not until I met you, did I apply those words to a person. Indulge me on this, my sweet Amelia. Allow the physical part of our relationship to proceed in a manner that I am comfortable with for I plan to share all of my experience with you so that we are truly together in every sense of the word."

They clasped each other affectionately, and laid together in Amelia's bed for some time, speaking of many of their hopes and wishes in their future life together. Their kisses were passionate, and they touched each other mostly within the bounds of Sergeant Barnes' wishes, as Amelia kept under the covers, while he stayed above. They did explore the more sensual aspects of touching each other in a gratifying manner. When sounds of someone arising sounded outside her door, Barnes kept Amelia's reputation intact, mindful of her father inhabiting one of the nearby suites, by successfully returning to his own domicile unnoticed. They ascended to the 21st floor for breakfast separately but sat together for the meal, as was considered appropriate.

As it turned out, the sounds of someone arising were that of Captain Rogers, who was awakened early by Dr. Banner, his blood tested for a reaction to Pietro's blood. When Dr. Banner was confident that some could be transferred to the injured man, he withdrew an amount from Rogers and transfused it into Pietro. Within an hour, his colouring, breathing and pulse improved noticeably. Sending a note up to the Stark residence via the vacuum tube system (since he didn't like the telephone), Dr. Banner's news was read to those assembled for breakfast. It was glad news to start the day.

The second set of news was word from the door attendant stationed at the main door of the arrival of two children, who wished to speak with Mr. Anthony Stark.

"Who is it that asks?"

"A young Mr. Harley Keener and his sister, Hannah," said the doorman on the telephone. "They have the property of Miss Winston to return, and they also have come to claim the fulfillment of a promise made to them."

"Ah, yes, in the heat of the moment, I neglected to tell you that young Harley wishes your help for him and his sister," said Vision. "I said you would since they were invaluable to us last evening. They roused not just more children to assist us but several adults as well."

"Bring them up," replied Stark.

As the sound of the elevator arriving brought everyone to stand and greet the young man and his sister, Sergeant Barnes made sure to have his wallet ready to pay young Harley for the delivery of Amelia's property. Hogan was with them, having been called to escort the pair.

Stark strode towards Harley, offering his hand to the young inhabitant of Hell's Kitchen.

"I understand I owe you my thanks for your assistance last night," he said. "Vision told us your service was invaluable. It appears I should consider you for membership in our organization."

"As an Avenger?" Harley spoke in disbelief. "I have no special 'bilities."

"I don't know," said Vision. "You did convince many people to help us last night. That is a considerable skill in one so young. How old are you, Mr. Keener?"

"I don't know for sure," he replied. "I know Hannah is six years old and I think I was three or four years old when she was born. She was still a babe when our parents died. We lived with old Gert for a time, in the shanty town but when she died it was just me and Hannah. I looked after her then."

"It must have been difficult at times," remarked Vision. "Further proof of your own abilities."

The boy shrugged, not willing to accept that he had done anything out of the ordinary.

Mrs. Stark came forward, kneeling down before him. "Would you and Hannah like to live here, in this building with us? Our daughter Morgan would love to have a brother and a sister. You would never have to live in the shanty town again, or in the basement of a flop house. You could go to school, learn to read and write."

Hannah took his hand and whispered in Harley's ear.

"What about the other children? It's not just us. There are many, most with no parents, but some with parents who don't care or can't look after them."

"Anthony?"

"We'll help them," he said, solemnly. "Whether that is finding them a new family to care for them or a safe warm place to live is something we'll figure out. I'll talk to Mr. Murdock since he has been helping you, hasn't he?"

Harley nodded. "Hannah wants a doll, just for herself, with curly hair and eyes that open and close. Can she have that?"

"She can," smiled Mrs. Stark. "What would you like?"

"To learn how to make flying machines," he said, looking at Anthony Stark. "When I saw you go up into the sky last night, my heart almost blew up. You made that?"

"I did and if you want to learn how to make fantastic things, I'll gladly teach you."

"Alright, we'll stay." Harley looked at Amelia. "I brought your clothes, Miss. It was in a room in the warehouse in Pier 84. Had to sneak in without a copper seein' me to get it."

"How much do I owe you for that?" asked Sergeant Barnes.

"Nothin'," replied Harley. "She's a brave lady and smart. When she tossed that comb into the weeds, I knew she was quick. Mr. Django, is he alright?"

"Yes, he's recovering," said Amelia. "Would you like to go see him?"

"I think Dr. Banner would be happier if they both had a bath and some clean clothes first," said Mrs. Stark. "I'll go out immediately and pick up some clothing for both children. We'll have to talk to Judge Coulson about legally adopting them. Would you like that, if we were your parents for real?"

Hannah nodded, then smiled shyly at Morgan.

"Mama, I'm sure she can wear some of my clothes until you get something for her. Can she have a bath now?"

With Hannah's agreement, Morgan took her by the hand and led her to the Stark residence, calling on Mrs. Stark to come and get a bath ready for her.

"I think we can pick up some clothing for Harley," said Barton, looking to Natasha for confirmation. "If he gets into a bathtub now, we can be back with what he needs."

It was decided and the preparations began to make Harley and Hannah part of the Stark household. There was much to celebrate that day and, in the days to come, as word went out about the vanquishing of the HYDRA threat, and the uncovering of Wilson Fisk as a villain who ground people into the dirt as if they were insects. For the first time, many of the inhabitants of Hell's Kitchen began to hope for a better life.

New Year's Eve, 1899

In the months after that event the creation of the Stark Foundation to revitalize the area known as Hell's Kitchen was announced, as was the inclusion of several residents of the area on the board, along with a local lawyer who had championed those residents, Matthew Murdock. Nothing would be done without their knowledge and approval. The first priority was decent housing, followed by work for the adults, and educational opportunities, not just for the children but for everyone. It was lauded as forward thinking for the new millennium.

The New Year's Eve Charity Ball held at the Astoria Hotel, as a fundraiser for the Hell's Kitchen project was a big success. Everyone who was anyone paid the exorbitant price for the party of the millennium, to rub shoulders with the actual Avengers and be seen with other elite citizens of the city of New York. The dress was formal, the music was grand, and the champagne flowed. Already on the dance floor were Clint Barton and his wife of four months, Natasha, the great illusionist Vision, and his fiancée Wanda, and the newest Avenger, her brother Pietro Maximoff and his wife Sarah. All three couples glided around the dance floor as if they had been raised in the finest society.

In the ladies' room, the newlywed Mrs. Amelia Barnes, wife of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, was fixing a loose ribbon on her elaborate ball gown with the assistance of the attendant. Several society mavens entered and began to openly gossip about the pretentiousness of the Avengers, trying to pass themselves off as people of quality. From inside the enclosure Amelia and the attendant could hear the snide remarks.

"I'm sure I've seen that Barton woman outside one of "those" houses before," said the one lady. "That hair screams henna."

"Most definitely," said another. "The women Avengers all wear trousers or even breeches on a regular basis. Scandalous."

"How Amelia Winston's father could allow her to marry that Sergeant Barnes is beyond me," said a third. "He's not even an officer and a gentleman but an enlisted man from Brooklyn." Her voice lowered. "You know, he faced a court martial for killing women and children in the Wyoming Range Wars. Even though he was acquitted there must have been some truth for one of the generals in the tribunal found him guilty."

Amelia slammed the door of the enclosure behind her, causing the three women to turn towards the sound. Their faces registered their surprise at her presence.

"Mrs. Barton is a natural redhead," she stated, "and is an accomplished equestrienne, markswoman, and one of the bravest persons I know. We women Avengers do wear trousers or even breeches because it is next to impossible to perform our duties in a petticoat and a dress. It's quite freeing to be dressed like a man. Perhaps you should try it before you criticize it. As for my husband, the accusations made against him were made by traitors to this country, in a bid to keep him a prisoner and subject to torture. The general who found him guilty, was the head of a shadow organization that planned to assassinate the President and turn our country into a dictatorship. It is true that Sergeant Barnes is not an officer, but he is a gentleman, even in bed. My pleasure during intercourse is always his priority before he enjoys his own and he can make love all night long, if I so wish it, and I often do. Can your husbands do the same for you, or only for their mistresses, that you so willingly turn a blind eye to?" She opened her pocketbook and gave the attendant a dollar for her assistance. "Happy New Year, ladies."

Exiting out of the ladies' room, she glided back to the ballroom, where she saw her husband, James, listening politely to a politician. They made eye contact and he excused himself, approaching her in his formal evening dress.

"Dearest, you looked troubled," he commented.

"Oh, just some gossips in the ladies' room passing judgement on the Avengers," she replied. "I set them straight." She looked at the other couples preparing to dance. "Shall we dance, James?"

With a soft smile, Barnes grasped one hand and brought her to stand in front of him, one hand in his, while his other hand encircled her waist. Then he twirled her to face him and gracefully led her onto the dance floor, as the well-known music of the Viennese waltz by Johann Strauss II began. His regal bearing drew many admiring eyes as did the poise of his bride.

"You are drawing attention," he murmured. "I think most men here are imagining you in their arms."

"The only man whose arms I want are yours," answered Amelia. "And your legs, and your body, and your ...."

"Patience, my darling," he whispered. "We have to stay til the stroke of midnight has ended then I can take you to our hotel room and ravage you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Most assuredly. There is only one thing." She looked up at him with overly innocent but questioning eyes. "I distinctly remember bringing several rubbers with me for the evening, but they seem to have gone missing. Would you know anything about that?"

"Me? I don't know what you are insinuating." She smiled sweetly. "We've never done it without a barrier between us."

"No, we haven't. I suppose it is the final part of your private lessons with me."

"Which is?"

He danced them to the outside, then took her hand and looked for a quiet corner. They found several, all occupied with couples in various stages of discourse, until they found the privacy they desired. With the music as the background to their conversation, he kissed her hands then held them as he gazed into her eyes.

"Whether you wish the pleasures of our boudoir to lead to children. It might not happen for a time, but it will happen if we don't protect ourselves. Are you ready for a child?"

"Without a doubt," she answered. "Are you?"

"I've been ready since before we were married," he admitted, "but I wanted you to have the opportunity to explore the aspects of life that having a family will interfere with. We didn't go to Europe for our honeymoon, having to cancel because of the spy ring that set up shop in Washington. I promised you London, Paris, Rome, and Madrid."

"You did and we can still do it if we have the will for we do have the means." Her eyes were bright. "James, I am ready to explore all aspects of married life with you and if we can conceive our first child on such an auspicious occasion as the start of a new millennium then so much the better. I want you in me, with nothing between us but what we were born with." She smiled. "I command it."

"Then so be it," he agreed.

When the last second of 1899 had been counted, and the cries of Happy New Year were being repeated joyously throughout the ball, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes took his wife Amelia up the elevator to their room in the Astoria Hotel. With the greatest of pleasure, they undressed each other, interrupting the process with many kisses and caresses, until they faced each other in the manner of all famous lovers. Having already tasted the fruits of physical love before they married, certain clerics of the day would say the couple had tainted the bonds of holy matrimony by their pre-nuptial activities. Quite the opposite was true as Amelia would proclaim that her husband's efforts to educate her gradually into the joys and pleasures of sexual intercourse between them is what made their bond even stronger. With their shared outlook on love, marriage, children, and social issues, the couple, along with the others in the Avengers, were considered models of The Progressive Era, when even greater social changes were felt in the country, changes that started during the Gilded Age. It was a glorious time to be alive.

The End

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[bluelolblue]

Lost Memories

Note: I've been writing this all day. First crossover I created Steven Grant x Santino D'Antonio, so it's Moon Knight and John Wick crossover. Also, I took some canon show dialogs for a start, switched Layla with Santino lmao and then wrote some original stuff that didn't happen.

Enjoy these two being confused.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“What? I thought we said Friday? Today.” 

Friday was today, right?

“Right. Welcome to Sunday,” his date replied sarcastically.

“Come on, no. I think Friday still comes after Thursday, doesn't it?” Steven tried again, this time with a little joke.

“It doesn't change the fact that today is Sunday, which means lose my number. Cheers.” And she hung up before Steven could get any more words out.

Unsuccessful date. Well… it wasn't even a date at this point. He just ended up eating a steak alone, and he was a vegan. Too much has been happening lately, might as well get a steak.

Steven returned back home after a while, confused and humiliated, eating his box of chocolate that was supposed to be for the date. He gave a few sprinkles to his fish, Gus, too. 

“If you're Gus, I'm the bloody Queen of Sheba,” he said, turning to walk away from the fish tank when a few pieces of chocolate fell on the floor.

Steven sighed, crouching down to pick them up when he noticed something weird on the floor. He pulled the rag away, dragging a little table to the spot where the rag was over the outlined corners on the floor. He looked up seeing that one of the wooden tiles was a bit out of place. 

“What is this about?”

He climbed on the wobbly table, examining the wooden tile and realizing that he could move it away, revealing an old phone and a key in the hole.

Later, Steven sat by the table, having his reading glasses on, checking out the old flip phone and seeing missed calls from… Santino? And so many missed calls from him. Just when he was about to press the call button, Santino was calling again.

Steven flinched, standing up and tossing his glasses on the table in disbelief, thinking if he should answer it. And he decided to answer.

“Yeah?” He asked quietly.

“Oh, my God, you're alive.” Came from the other side of the line, a hint of Italian accent that Steven caught.

“Yeah, alright,” Steven replied nervously.

“That's it? I've been texting and calling you for months. You couldn't give me any sign that you were okay? I thought something happened to you. Where are you? Where've you been?” 

“Uh…” Steven wasn't sure what to say, he didn't even know this Santino that was calling him for months. 

“Hello? You…” Santino paused to sigh.

“Sorry, I just found this phone in my flat, and I'm just trying to figure out whose it is,” Steven explained.

“What is with this accent?” Santino asked, clearly sounding confused.

“What?”

“What is happening right now?” 

“Sorry, who do you think I am?” Steven asked, trying to look for more information.

“What do you mean, who? What's wrong with you, Marc?” Santino was getting frustrated, hanging up on Steven.

“What did you just call me? Who is this?” Steven paused, “Why did you call me Marc? Hello?” And he realized Santino hung up.

Steven could feel his panic raising, again being called Marc, this was getting stranger by the day. 

“No, no, no. Come on, come on,” Steven murmured as he tried calling back but Santino wasn't picking up. Great. Just what he needed, adding more confusion to this day.

He needed rest, he needed time to think about everything. So, he gave it time, not looking at that damn phone, pacing around his apartment, trying not to think about it.

It was getting late when the phone rang once again.

“Why didn't you answer-” Steven started but got cut off.

“I want to see you tomorrow. There are still papers you have to sign,” Santino said.

“Papers? What- what papers?” 

Santino sighed deeply before answering, “What you wanted. After everything, you told me that we needed to move on.”

“What? Are we married?” 

“I don't know what's wrong with you,” Santino muttered to himself but Steven could still hear him. “Yes, but obviously you have other plans-”

“Okay, listen. I really don't know what's happening. I thought it was Friday, I was supposed to have a date only to find out it's bloody Sunday, and now I find this phone with hundreds of missed calls from you, and I don't even know you and all this is just too much for one bloody day,” Steven explained, he sounded like he was about to break down. This day was indeed stressful and this was not making it any easier.

“Okay, okay, relax,” Santino changed his tone of voice, not wanting to upset him even more. 

“No, I can't relax. Who is this Marc, and what does he have to do with me? I'm Steven Grant!”

Santino chuckled faintly, trying to hide that laugh that escaped him. “I'm sorry… alright, Steven Grant, I think I know what's going on.” 

“Yeah, you do? Or you're just having a laugh?” Steven asked, a bit offended.

“Tell me where you live now, we can talk this out in person,” Santino suggested.

Steven was a bit hesitant, telling his address to a stranger. But Santino apparently wasn't a stranger. So, he agreed, giving him his address. 

“Marc- Steven. I'm just worried about you. I hope we'll both know everything tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah,” Steven murmured. 

This night was restless, almost the same as his previous nights, barely any sleep, again his one leg chained to the bed. He was overthinking, his whole life was turned upside down in such a short time. Perhaps tomorrow he will have his answers.

The other day, when he was returning back home after his work, he noticed a nicely dressed man, standing near the entrance for Steven's apartment.

“Santino?” Steven asked, glancing at him and actually admiring his look. He looked like a gentleman compared to him.

“Ah, you put me through a lot to get here,” Santino complained, however having a smile on his face. 

“I'm sorry,” Steven apologized, opening the door for him and guiding him to his apartment.

His apartment. Steven forgot how messy it was, but Santino seemed to immediately get interested in Gus. 

“You have a fish? Does it have a name?” Santino asked, standing in front of the fish tank, admiring the little goldfish.

“Gus. That's his name,” Steven replied, surprised by Santino's curiosity. 

Santino hummed in response, glancing around until saw the bed with the chain. “Are you living with someone else?” 

“No, no. This is my mom's flat.” 

“Okay, so you're talking with her again?” 

That was a bit of an odd question, of course Steven was talking with her almost every day, so he just hummed in response. He watched how Santino noticed a book, but not just any book.

“Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?” Santino turned to look at Steven, nodding in amusement. 

“She's my favorite poet.” 

“No, she's my favorite poet.” 

Steven looked at him in confusion, “That's mental.” 

Santino smiled a little, walking over the table with more books. “So you're learning French and hieroglyphics?” 

Steven joined him, “Yeah, well… that's not that impressive, really. It's not like hieroglyphics are a whole language. It's more like a-”

“Like an alphabet,” Santino cut him off. 

Steven blinked but liked the way Santino knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Yeah, and… well, you still have to know ancient Egyptian to read it.”

Santino nodded and hummed but was unable to hold back a chuckle. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean that in a weird way-”

“No, you can stop acting now, Marc,” Santino said after managing to control his laugh. 

“I'm not acting.”

“Right. I thought you were in danger and using an accent to keep yourself safe, but… now I'm not so sure.” Santino walked over to a bag, getting out the papers. “Let's just get this over with. You sent these papers but you never signed them.” Santino handed him the papers waiting as Steven got his reading glasses out of his pocket. It was divorce papers.

“I would never divorce you.”

Santino seemed flattered for a moment. He wished it was true, he wished these papers weren't right here. 

“You're saying this now… after everything.” 

Steven could hear the pain in his voice saying that, so he meant it. “I… I don't know what's happening, I'm sorry.” He felt bad because Santino did come all the way over here only to be even more confused.

Santino swallowed, fidgeting his pinky ring, “I don't know either. I thought you'd want to sign these papers so it's all over.”

“I don't want to,” Steven said softly. “I'm not Marc, but I wouldn't divorce you.” 

“You are Marc.” This time Santino sounded more desperate, trying to get Steven to understand. He pulled out a small picture from his wallet of them two at the beach. “This is you, we are married. Do you need more proof?”

Steven hated how he couldn't remember this, how Santino was trying so hard to convince him and it seemed like Santino was right. That really was him.

“I'm sorry, I don't remember this.” Steven was trying, maybe he saw the beach somewhere, but nothing was adding up. Nothing was making sense.

Santino put the pictures away, looking disappointed. “Maybe I should just leave then.”

“No, please. We can talk about this. I'd lIke to hear more, maybe I'll find out more about Marc that way.” That got Santino's attention, thinking about his options.

“Fine. I guess we can talk some more about this. I just… I want you to remember.” Santino looked at him, making eye contact and Steven sighed, looking away in embarrassment.

“I know. I'll try to, for you.”

They needed some more time to process all this and it was a good decision for Santino to stay. Besides, Steven seemed really sweet, maybe he wasn't Marc, but Santino liked him. Spending more time with him will maybe help him understand the whole situation.

[sstan-hoe]

𝒊. 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

����𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — mob!andy barber × fem!reader × mob!lloyd hansen

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — they wanted you, they enjoyed the hunt just as much as you enjoyed being chased. You didn't make it easy for them but it only prepared you that life with them wouldn't be easy.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — violence, allusion to murder, no smut in this chapter, trigger warning to anyone who is paranoid like me!

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — Five parts are to be published, if more we will see! Also if the majority is only people liking and not commenting or rebloging then there won't be more at all. Reblog and/or Comment!!! I do not have a taglist but you can follow @sstanhoe-updates

Silence filled the room, blue piercing eyes looking intensely at a blonde man who squirmed in his seat. The chair cracked as Lloyd Hansen leaned back with his legs spread apart and his hand folded in his lap.

Behind the blonde man walked a brunette full bearded man, his hand clamped on the shoulders of the blonde causing him to jump up. Andy Barber released a disappointed sigh as he squeezed the man’s shoulders.

“John, John, John…we gave you such a simple task and failed that simple task,” Andy said tilting his head down, he was already aware of the fact that John Walker was a coward and an incompetent person in general. This ‘mission’ the two mob bosses had sent Mr. Walker on was just a cover up to test his trust and he failed miserably.

“All you had to be was loyal, a very simple task if you ask me…Lloyd would you say being loyal is a simple task?” Andy looked up at his partner who had a devilish smirk on his lips.

Lloyd was already making up ways in his mind to torture John Walker, he had for a while now but according to Andy he needed a bigger reason than John constantly talking to their favourite barista.

“Being loyal is quite the simple task you’re right Andy but it seems he’s even too incompetent for that,” Lloyd agreed and leaned forward to look deep into the blonde’s eyes, but the man wouldn’t dare to meet the mob boss’s eyes. The mob boss partner knew it would take more than loyalty to be in the mafia, but loyalty was by far the most important.

“I didn’t have a choice! They threatened to kill me,” finally John broke his silence and his words caused Lloyd to stand up immediately, his chair almost tipping over, “had no choice? You had no fucking choice? Welcome to the real world…you always have a choice and now we are going to kill you.”

Walker’s eyes widened, he should have expected that they were going to kill him, “no, no, no please don’t! I promise I can be of help and act as a spy or-,” a harsh grip on his neck cut him off, choking on his own words John tried desperately to get out of Andy’s grip.

“Please, we both know that this was just a cover up so he could kill you for talking to our girl,” he intervened with an eye roll.

It was no secret that Lloyd and Andy had taken an interest in the feisty barista down the street. While she always tried to ignore them or be rude, they still wanted her and if anyone dared to mistreat her, talk to her in a way that wasn’t necessary or was John Walker who couldn’t take a hint then it would not end well for them.

Though the mobster kept talking to her even though she rejected them, they were well aware of the game she was playing.

The woman liked to be chased and knew the two men would do everything to make her buckle in.

----

The café was busy as usual at that time of the day. Parents coming in with their kids from school, the seniors who want to enjoy a nice piece of cake, the ones coming fresh from work to have their coffee to go, college students that study or do their homework.

You looked at the clock above the coffee machine, it was almost four thirty at noon on a Wednesday which meant two special men would enter any minute.

Sighing you turned to your colleague Wanda, you could tell her everything and she had been by your side since you moved to Boston. She already looked at you with knowing eyes, “you already waitin’ for your men?” she teased you, her Sokovian accent shining through.

“More like dreading it,” you replied just as the clock strikes half past four and the door opened with a ring.

Said men walked in wearing black suits and looking as intimidating as ever. Lloyd already wore his signature smirk and Andy with a smile. They sat themselves down in a booth near the counter you stood at.

Taking your pen and paper you walked over to the two, “hello, what can I get for you?” you asked in a dull tone.

“Sunshine, are you not happy to see us?” Lloyd asked you with a pout causing you to roll your eyes, “as happy as someone is who just found out he has syphilis,” you replied. Andy observed the two of you.

“What’s your special today darlin’?” Andy asked to take your attention away from Lloyd, “we have strawberry cake with a caramel topping, however we only have one piece left so you have to share it if you want it,” you told them, eyes trained on Andy.

Lloyd’s voice stole your attention from Andy, “maybe we could share you on a date this Friday?” if looks could kill Lloyd would be six feet under. “This was by far the worst way you asked and no, I will not go on a date with you both or either one of you, I don’t care. Order something now or go,” you said, your tone leaving no room for arguments.

“We would like two coffees, one black and one with milk and sugar – separate, not already inside, then that slice of strawberry cake and a slice of your chocolate cake,” Lloyd muttered defeated, leaning back against the booth.

Writing their order down you left them without another word, Andy turned his head towards his partner with a glare, “really? You couldn’t have thought about something even stupider than that?” he scolded Lloyd.

“It sounded good in my head besides it could have made her laugh! And it’s not like your sweet, cute way worked,” the brunette argued, causing Andy to roll his eyes. Behind the counter you watched them bicker as you let the coffee out while putting the two slices of cake on plates.

“Why won’t you agree to go on a date with them?” Wanda’s voice came from your side, you let out a little sigh as you finished the coffees, “they’re dangerous and what if they only use me for one night? I don’t do one-night stands and have no wish to die,” you told her before walking back to them with their order.

“Here is your coffee, one black and one with sugar and milk but not in yet, one strawberry and one chocolate slice, bon appetit,” you put the coffees and cakes down.

“Thank you, darlin’ we appreciate it,” Andy thanked you, your attention once again on him, “the chocolate cake looks amazing sunshine,” Lloyd cut in to take your attention away. “Call me when you’re ready to pay,” you said and left, giving Lloyd one last look.

“They send you expensive gifts, always give you a generous tip and fight for your attention,” Wanda continued with the topic from before, “I really admire how strong you are.”

“There are a lot of things that prevent me from saying yes. Firstly, Lloyd is an asshole, thinking he could have everything he wanted. Secondly, they are very dangerous, Andy may hide it, but he is just as dangerous. Thirdly, who knows with how many women they slept with or if they even mean to take me out on a date and not embarrass me,” you began listing all the cons you could think of at the moment while Wanda listened.

“What if something happens to me because I see something I shouldn’t and those gifts are just out of line, you don’t gift a stranger something that expansive, also I don’t even know if they’re a couple or just like to share,” you continued and finally looked at your friend who waited if you were finished.

“And you don’t like it one bit that they chase you?” she questioned, Wanda is a very observant woman and she noticed how you looked at the clock every Wednesday, how you smirked a little every time you walked back after rejecting them knowing they would ask again.

Wanda was unsure if you noticed these little things and just ignored it or were truly clueless. She hoped you ignored it and would come to your senses, unlike you she knew the two mob bosses longer, given that had been living here for six years with her brother. There were a lot of rumors circling the two men but never something about them mistreating women.

Your fear of a one-night stand or getting embarrassed was something she could understand; however, something told her that the two weren’t joking.

“Ignore all of that, imagine that they are normal and are interested in you. Would you say yes?” Wanda gently asked, she realised you ignored her previous words and maybe the change of words would lead to succession.

Before you could answer, Lloyd called for you. Maybe it was good that you didn’t get to answer because you weren’t sure what you would have said.

“We would like to pay, that should cover it,” Lloyd put a hundred-dollar bill on the table like he did every Wednesday. “Mr. Hansen I cannot take this,” you said holding up your hand.

Andy joined the conversation with a stern voice, “darlin’ we’re over this every time, take it.”

He was right, this conversation accrued ever Wednesday and always ended with you taking the bill. Nights over nights you wondered why the tipped you this much, was it because they wanted you to sleep with them, did they know about your financial struggle or were they just generous?

“Mr. Barber there is a policy-,” “how often did we tell you to call us by our name darlin’?” Andy’s tone softened and he looked up you with stormy blue eyes.

“Is Barber and Hansen not your name or more a part of it? Unlike you I call you by your name, all you do is say a pet name,” taking the plates and empty mugs you moved them to the kitchen leaving the money behind. When you came back, they were gone, and the money still laid on the table.

You stood in front of the table taking the bill with a sigh, those tips often saved you in a bad month. As you walked back behind the counter you gazed up to the clock again it was quarter to five, normally the two stayed at least fifteen minutes longer and tried to make conversation with you.

Pushing the thoughts aside you returned back to work, you still had until six pm to go.

The clock finally stroke six, the sun was already gone, and the stars decorated the dark sky. An uneasy feeling sneaked up your spine, you hated walking home in the dark but there was no avoiding it in the winter and fall months.

“Bye Wanda!” you shouted in the kitchen as you put your bag over your head, she shouted a ‘goodbye’ in return before you were out the door.

Boston’s streets were still busy, and the crowds of people caused the uneasy to increase, big crowds freaked you out and the darkness mixed in the thought that someone was following you.

Regularly you turned your head around to look if someone was indeed following you, a man catched your eye. He was tall and build broad, had dirty blonde hair, and wore dark blue jeans combined with a red sweater and a black jacket.

Sweat pearls collected on your forehead, you hated yourself for this. There was never a day where your fear didn’t take over. It always felt overbearing, and your chest tighten, in the worst scenarios it even became hard to breath.

Your heartbeat picks up and your step speeds up, after you rounded a corner, you turned again, and the man was still behind you. Breath, hitching you got out your keys fumbling to find the right key for the big wooden door.

Finally, you reached your door and before closing it from the other side you checked if the man was still there.

A relieved sigh passed your lips as you walked up the steps to your flat. Opening the door, you were greeted with your Golden Retriever-German Shepherd mix named Alf. The big dog had the statue of a Golden Retriever, but his fur was pitch black,

“Hey there big buy!” you greeted him with a big grin, “how was your day huh?” you closed the door behind you and got on your knees as he jumped up, he laid his paws on your shoulders. “I missed you too, how about I give you dinner? Then we will go a little round and then it’s bedtime. You know tomorrow I start late which means we get to spend more time together! I also only work until three,” you told him as the two of you walked into the kitchen.

For Alf you put wet food into his bowl, and you made yourself the pasta warm from yesterday. “You know today is Wednesday and that means Lloyd and Andy were in the cafe. I swear Lloyd’s way to ask me on a date was so stupid, if he would ask me normally at least,” you told him as you moved around the kitchen,

“Also, Wanda asked me if I would consider a date if they weren’t who they are and I couldn’t answer because honestly, I don’t know!” you said while putting the bowl for Alf down.

The male dog looked up at you waiting for you to allow him to eat, it was a safety matter. With all the poisoned food that people leave on the street it was important he didn’t it anything of that, it also helped to prevented that he inhaled his food and jumped up against you.

“You’re good,” you said, and Alf dug right in, just then the microwave made a sound to notify that she was finished. You took out the pasta and sat yourself on the sofa, in a matter of seconds Alf joined you.

He cuddled up on your lap causing you to giggle, “Alf I gotta eat too! So anyways, they came in and what was weird is that they stayed only fifteen minutes instead of thirty. Like why? And they didn’t make as much conversation as they usually did which was also weird, it’s not like I miss it, but it is weird right?” Alf barked in agreement.

You finished your pasta and placed the plate on the table before leaning back, scratching Alf’s head.

“To come back on what Wanda asked, she also pointed out that I might like their attention. I’m not sure about that either to be honest, there are just so many downsides however,” you sounded a little disappointed that they had this many cons.

Alf nudged his nose against your chin as if to say, ‘heads up’, “I just, what if they…no, no, you know what? Let’s go for a round,” you decided, and Alf sprung up at your words.

He toddled over the door where his leash was hanging, a beautiful navy-blue leash made out of a smooth material. You took it and linked it with his collar, Alf waited patiently until you opened the door and stepped outside to give him the go – also a safety and manner you taught him.

Walking out of the building the uneasy feeling was back but this time – thanks to Alf – it was not as bearing, and it was easier to protect yourself.

Because of the paranoia you taught Alf how to attack someone on command and it was an advantage that people thought he looked scary, but not to you however he could be very scary.

As you walked down the streets to the near park the streets were not as busy as before – it was already half past seven and most people were at home with their families or relaxed after a long day.

You passed a little bakery that was already closed, the windows mirrored Alf and you, as the need to turn around to see if there was anything you noticed the same man from before.

You gripped the leash tighter, ready to command your dog to attack him. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself a little inner pep talk. You felt your chest tighten again and your hands started sweating, you hoped you could loose the man in the park.

The gates were still open, and you walked towards a little grassy spot where you changed the normal leash to a towline in which Alf could run around.

Anxiously you looked on your phone to check the time, you wanted to go home right now but it was important for Alf to play and be at the fresh air.

You watched him for about ten minutes prior to playing with him for another ten, then he relieved himself and you made your way back but not before checking if the man was still there…he was.

“Okay, I think we will go to the police tomorrow, yeah what do you think Alfi?” you asked your boy who barked to agree with you, then however gave another bark.

“What? No, I can’t ask them, besides I only see them on Wednesday’s and tomorrow is Thursday,” you explained to him.

On your walk back you turned around six more times and the majority of those times the  man was still there causing your heartbeat to pick up as well as your walking speed. Alf sensed your uneasy feeling and stayed close by your side.

Finally, back at home you looked out of the window but so no one, that didn’t stop you from closing all the curtains.

“Come on Alfi let’s get to bed, we will watch a movie and then get a good night of sleep, what do you say?” you asked your best friend who sprinted towards your bedroom making you chuckle at the sight.

You got yourself ready for bed, a short routine of teeth brushing, little skin care, clothes changing and a walk to the toilette. When you walked into your bedroom Alf already laid on his side of the bed with his tail wiggling, you cuddled up next to him.

“We gotta be aware of our surroundings my boy,” you muttered as you looked around the room and turned on the TV.