#freaky tales fanfiction

[musings-of-a-rose]

A New Life

Pairing: Clint “Freaky Tales” x f!readers (there’s 2, both have nicknames)

Word Count: 11,000+ (it's a long one, folks!)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: a huge shoutout to @nerdieforpedro for beta reading this and giving me the confidence to actually hit post. And to Mr. Rose for helping me out of a corner.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Clint Masterlist

CLINT

“No! No, please! Tell The Guy I'll step back from his territory!”

Clint stares down at the man who's now covered in his own blood, coughing and spitting up the red liquid onto the floor, splashing a little onto Clint's shoes. He looks at the man and grabs his hair, yanking his head back and staring him in the eyes, seeing fear at the rapidly approaching end of his life. 

“Then you should've stopped when we warned you.”

Clint slides his knife into the man's abdomen, watching as the man coughs and sputters, small gasps all he can manage as the life leeches from his body. When he slumps, Clint knows it's over. He sits back, shaking his head and sighing, looking around at the mess all over the tarp he'd placed on the floor. I'm getting tired of this.

He cleans up and disposes of the body properly, his stomach rumbling by the end of his work. A quick glance at his watch tells him it's nearly 3am. He hopes there's still someplace open where he can at least get a cup of hot coffee. 

He drives in the general direction of his apartment for nearly 15 minutes before he sees the neon OPEN sign on the side of a little corner diner. He parks around the back, adjusting his pants and smoothing down his shirt before heading inside, a little bell ringing as the door swings open. It's quiet, only one other person sitting at a booth in the back corner, a man who doesn't look when the bell dings, too absorbed in his own issues. 

“Hey, hun! Have a seat wherever and I'll be right over!” The waitress calls from somewhere behind the counter. Clint looks around and finally settles on sitting at the counter, spinning to face the counter on the bar stool. 

The waitress suddenly appears, smoothing out her skirt before turning to face him and when she does, Clint momentarily forgets how to breathe. She is the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen and her smile makes him feel warm and safe, things he hasn't felt since he was a child. And even then, that's debatable. 

Her smile is bright and wide. “Sorry to make you wait! That damn sink pipe’s entire purpose is to annoy me, I swear. Want some coffee, hun?” She's already got the pot in her hand, regular, not decaf. He nods and she pours him a mug with a smile, sliding a small bowl with some creamer and sugar packets towards him. 

“You look hungry. You a steak man?”

Clint pours one of the sugar packets into his black coffee. “I like steak.”

“Great! The steak here is-” She leans closer to him “-edible. But it's best in town at 3am!”

Clint chuckles, the sound almost unfamiliar to him. “Sounds perfect.”

She writes down his order and turns, placing the ticket in a clip and rotating it, dinging another bell so the cook knows he has an order. 

“James? You back there? You have an order!”

There's some sort of affirmative grunted towards her that she accepts with a shake of her head, turning back to face Clint. 

“James is a nice guy. Lost his hearing in one ear in the war. Sometimes you have to be a little louder for him. At his request of course.” 

Clint nods and takes a sip of his coffee, expecting it to taste bitter and cheap, exactly like what you'd expect coffee at a diner open at 3am to taste like. But to his surprise, it doesn't. A pleasant mix of coffee beans washes over his tongue and he can't help a little moan escape him. 

A different smile, this one more sly. “You enjoying your coffee?”

Clint feels the tips of his ears heat up. “Uh, yeah.”

“I'm glad you like it, Mr….” Her eyebrows raised and Clint chokes down his sip. 

“Clint. No need for a Mr., ma'am.”

She waves her hand with another smile. “No ma'am here. I'm not that old!” She chuckles and tells him her name. “But everyone calls me Poppy.”

Poppy. He likes that name. It makes him feel happier somehow, like she's somehow taking care of him, not just because she's a waitress. 

She continues chatting with him while she bustles around, cleaning things and restocking sugar trays, and cleaning menus, Clint chiming in now and again. The man in the back corner eventually leaves and they're alone in the diner together. Aside from James in the back, who had just set his plate down on the back counter. 

“Thanks, James!”

“I'm going out for a smoke, Poppy.” 

She gives him a thumbs up and James takes off his apron, walking out of the side door. Poppy turns and makes a little fanfare of bringing him his diner steak and potatoes, setting it down in front of him and then casually placing the A1 steak sauce next to him. 

“You might need this.” She winks at him and he melts, what can only be described as butterflies in his stomach. 

Get it together, Clint. You don't do this. You don't like people like this. Fall for people. 

But then he's done with his steak, telling her some funny stories from his childhood. She's sitting across the bar from him, leaning on her elbows as she listens, laughing at all the right places. He's trying desperately hard to not be obvious in staring at her boobs, which had been pushed together tighter the more she leans forward. 

“If you don't mind me asking, Poppy. Why are you working this shitty shift?”

She cocks her head to the side slightly, her eyes on his. “Someone has to be here to serve you.”

He nods. “Yes but why you?” 

She waits a moment. “Maybe I'm just waiting for the right man to come on by.”

Shit. He had told himself she wasn't flirting, that she was just being nice to him for a tip. That he could just flirt a little and then be on his way. Normally, he'd take her out back and fuck her in his truck, promises to call again that he knows he'd never fulfill. But none of those women were her. None of them made him feel this way, her laugh and big eyes smiling at him while he sits here with blood on his hands and his past full of monsters.

So instead, he surprises himself. 

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”

She glances at the clock on the wall. “If you're not too tired, I'm off in an hour and you can take me for breakfast.”

He smiles an actual genuine smile. “Breakfast it is.”

The conversation flows between them at breakfast, both of them laughing and joking throughout it all. And at the end, he walks her to her car, asking her on another date before they reach it, her enthusiastic “yes” giving him the confidence to kiss her, his hands cupping her face as their lips melt together. He presses her back against the side of her car, his body aching to be with her, inside of her. But not like this. She's different. She's special. He wants to take his time with Poppy. So he pulls back, a promise to pick her up in 2 nights for dinner. 

Clint takes her out on several more dates, falling harder for her each time he sees her, hears her laugh, sees how attentive she is towards him. He doesn't think he deserves her, knows he doesn't, but maybe she's his way out of his world of darkness and bad deeds. The world he's kept hidden from her, whether because he's afraid she'd leave him or he's too afraid to bring his darkness into her light he's not sure. 

But Clint knows he can't leave her. He's gone too far. 

2 weeks in, and his resolve to treat her like a lady, an actual relationship, which is what they'd finally called it, snaps when she opens her door in a black dress that accentuates everything about her that he loves. 

“I know we were supposed to go out tonight Clint, but I thought maybe I could cook for you instead?” She looks nervously up at him and he knows right there, he'd do anything she asked him to.

“If it's not too much trouble.”

She shakes her her, chuckling lightly. “Not at all. Come on in.” 

Clint follows her inside, hearing her lock the door behind him. He kicks his boots off and places them by the door. 

“I thought we could have steak. A real one. Dear James does his best with what he has but…” her voice trails off and Clint chuckles. 

“Steak sounds delicious.”

“Great! Would you like a quick drink before I start cooking? Or are you too hungry?”

“A drink sounds great, thanks.”

He takes a beer from her and she leads him to the couch. They both sit, taking sips from their drinks before setting them on the coffee table. He's nervous, his palms a little sweaty. Why is he so nervous? Clint looks at Poppy and he can see the way she's shifting around slightly, obviously nervous herself, which somehow gives him the confidence he needs. Confidence that he's never had a problem with before. 

When he touches his lips to hers, he knows he belongs to her forever. 

POPPY

I knew what I was doing, inviting Clint in for dinner instead of going to a restaurant as we had planned. But I wanted to take care of him, try and help quell that sadness and regret hidden just behind his eyes, the darkness he swallows and blinks away when our eyes meet, for the sake of me. 

We settle on the couch, each taking a sip of our respective drinks before setting them on the coffee table. I see him wipe his palms across his jeans, a sweet, nervous gesture and I smile shyly, turning my head to the side to tuck some hair behind my ear. I look back up at him and find him looking at me already, his deep brown eyes seeing into me and I feel myself stepping off the cliff, diving headfirst into love. Could it be love this early? I’d felt it before once, in my youth. But I had been burned and so kept my heart behind a lock but somehow, Clint already had the key. 

He keeps his eyes on mine when he slides closer to me, hesitating briefly before placing his hand on my bare thigh, my skin tingling where he touches me. I angle my body towards him a little more, feeling his large hand cup my cheek, a soft smile on his lips before he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. We’ve kissed plenty, made out in the back of his truck for hours and hours, but this is different. The energy has shifted, our paths fully converging to become one. 

He slides his hand on my thigh up higher and I spread my legs for him, opening more than just my body to him. His fingertips brush against my panties and I inhale sharply against his lips, his hand stalling. 

“Is..is this ok?” He asks, a nervous tremble in his voice.

“Please,” I whisper, begging him to touch me again. “Please touch me.”

He kisses me again, pushing his tongue into my eager mouth and I feel him between my legs again, gently stroking up and down, up and down, feeling how wet my underwear has become. He pushes aside my panties, slowly swirling one thick finger around me before pushing in, my whine breaking our kiss before he grunts out, mumbling something about how tight I feel. 

He deepens the kiss, his finger gently stroking inside of me, brushing against me and I moan into his mouth, my legs twitching. When he stops, pulling away from me, I think I’ve done something wrong. But then he slides from the couch, getting on his knees, kissing my thighs as he hooks his fingers in my underwear, sliding them off and tossing them over his shoulder. He pushes my legs open wide, putting them over his shoulders as he stares between my legs, eyes dark and admiring. 

He looks up at me and I nod, knowing what he wants even though I’m not really experienced with it. He places soft kisses on my inner thighs, slowly moving to where his hand had been moments before. When his tongue touches me, I gasp, a breathy “oh” escaping me while my thighs try to slam against his head of their own volition. He chuckles against me and I moan at the vibration, feeling him wrap his hands around my legs to push me open wider. His tongue is relentless, swirling around, tapping, and I reach for him, tangling my fingers into his hair and tugging on it when he lightly sucks on me.

“Oh…oh, I-” I break open, cry out as I come, Clint’s tongue guiding me through my release. I release his hair, my legs falling open as he sits back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

He stands, offering me his hand and I take it, allowing him to pull me up against his body. He smells like cedar, a hint of cigarette smoke, and me, my head swimming with the scent of it all. 

“Bedroom?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.

I nod, almost too much in my enthusiasm. “This way.”

I take his hand and lead him on wobbly legs down the small hallway to my bedroom, grateful that I had made the bed this morning. Clint closes the door behind himself and turns to look at me. Several long moments pass where we just look at each other, the energy in the air electric, as if he didn’t have his head between my legs just moments ago. He closes the distance between us in a step or 2, stopping just short of me.

“Turn.”

I do as he says, feeling his large hand work my zipper down, his fingers brushing against my skin as he pulls the dress down and off, coming back to do the same to my bra. He moves my hair off my neck, placing soft kisses there as one hand wraps around my boob and the other dips a finger between my thighs. My head lolls back and I moan, feeling him pinch and tug at my nipple as I get wetter and wetter. I can feel him nearly bulging out of his jeans, the denim pressed against my ass, so I gently grab his wrists and turn around. 

I say nothing as I start to unbutton his flannel, sliding it down and off his broad shoulders, noting the appearance of a new scratch on his chest since the last time he’d taken his shirt off around me. I keep my eyes on his face as my hands unlatch his belt, popping open the button on his pants before carefully sliding down his zipper. I push his jeans down, getting on my knees to help slide them off of his legs. I look up at him as I pull down his underwear, a small grunt from him as he springs free. I want to return the favor, take him in my mouth but then his hand grips my chin, pulling me back to standing. 

“I’d love to feel your mouth on me, but Poppy, I want to make love to you.”

He helps me lay back on the bed, his eyes roaming over my naked body, more dark loving than I’ve ever seen them.

“You’re so beautiful, Poppy.”

I spread my legs, allowing him to settle between them. He kisses me, soft at first, his mustache tickling my upper lip, his hands sliding across my body, goosebumps following in his wake. His lips travel down my neck, finding a spot just below the side of my jaw that has me squirming, my fingers burying themselves in his hair. 

But then he pushes in and the world stops, nothing else in the world exists but us. We meld together, our bodies moving as one, slotting together like we were made for each other. I writhe under him, his hips breaking me open out of my cocoon, showing me what pleasure really is, what love really is. His hips thrust a little harder and I come, his name tumbling from my lips like a chant, praising him as my nails dig into his back. I feel his hips sputter, soft grunts and pants in my ear as he comes with me, his forehead coming to rest against mine. 

“Holy shit,” he says, his breath puffing out against my face. “That was..”

“It was.”

He lifts his head and looks at me, kissing me softly before pulling out, and getting a washcloth to clean me up. 

A steak dinner never tasted so good.

CLINT

He was the happiest he’d ever been. Poppy was a beacon of light in the darkness that was his life, always there to welcome him with open arms. It had only been a few weeks, but he loved her. He knew deep down that he never wanted to be without her. 

He just felt so fucking guilty about it. 

He was torn on telling her about his job, his real job, not the one he told her he did. He wasn’t a delivery man, although he did deliver whatever terrible fate that The Guy bestowed upon those who crossed him in business. He’d been a little too preoccupied tonight and his mark managed to slice his cheek with a knife before Clint snuffed the life from him.

But Poppy doesn’t even question it, just takes him into the bathroom and gently cleans his cut, dabbing some alcohol on it that burns, but not enough to distract him from the guilt he feels. He knows he has to get out. 

A few months go by and he couldn’t be happier with Poppy. They had been dating for about 8 months and he wanted desperately to ask her to move in with him, but first he had to leave The Guy. He couldn’t have him showing up whenever he felt like it. No matter what, he would protect Poppy from that side of his life. 

After he kills his next mark, he heads back to The Guy to give him his confirmation of delivery, so-to-speak. 

“What would I do without you, Clint?”

Clint shifts his weight to his back leg, hands on his hips. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”

The Guy sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “Oh?”

Clint clears his throat. “Yeah. I uh, I need to retire.”

The Guy raises an eyebrow. “Retire?”

“Yeah. My body isn’t what it used to be. My knees almost gave out tonight. I can’t continue like this.”

The guy sits there, his fingers still laced together as he studies Clint. “You have served me well, Clint. I’ll let you out, holding onto that evidence in case you try to cross me-”

“I would never. I’m not a snitch.”

The Guy holds up a hand. “I know. One can never be too careful these days. I think you get that?” Clint nods. “Good. I’ll let you out but I have one more delivery for you to make first. You’re the only one I can trust with it. What do you say?”

Clint stands there for a moment, thinking about his options. He only has one. “Deal.”

They shake on it, The Guy gives him the details, and Clint is out the door, feeling a little lighter now that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel. He’s finally getting out, starting a new life free of bloodshed with the love of his life.

He killed that last mark in near record time, The Guy shaking his hand and thanking him for all of his hard work. 

He knows she’s on the late shift again tonight, so after he cleans up, Clint heads over to the diner, their diner, watching Poppy move about through the dusty window. She smiles at a customer, but when Clint walks in and she sees him, her entire faces lights up, her eyes beaming as she crosses the room, pressing her lips to his and forgetting herself for a few seconds before pulling back, her face hot.

“Clint! To what do I owe this surprise?”

“Move in with me.”

He hadn’t meant to ask it like that, so blunt and harsh. But he couldn’t wait anymore and it sort of just came out when he opened his mouth. Surprise on her face, her eyes widening for a moment before that smile splits her face again, the one she has only for him.

“When can I get my things?”

They get married exactly 1 year from the day they met.

“Poppy! What are you doing?” Clint rushes into the kitchen, quickly snatching the knife Poppy was using to spread peanut butter on her sandwich. 

“Clint, I’m pregnant, not sick. I can do it myself.”

“The doctor said to rest.”

She smiled, a soft smile and squeezed his bicep. “The doctor said for me to relax the last 2 months. Not stay in bed entirely.”

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just..let me do things for you, ok? Have a seat on the couch and I’ll bring your food.”

Poppy looks like she wants to argue for a moment, but then gives in, tossing her hands in the air before heading into the living room. 

“And don’t forget the-”

“Apples. I got it, Poppy.”

Clint arranges 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some apple slices on a plate, also grabbing a glass of water to set on the coffee table in front of her. She reaches for the plate with grabby hands, smiling and shifting her weight as she settles in, making light work of the food before downing half the glass of water. 

“Thanks, babe.”

Clint puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her head. “Anything for you.” He shifts a little. “You need a foot massage?”

“The day I turn down a foot massage, just know I’m a clone.”

Clint chuckles as he helps Poppy turn, laying back on the couch, her head on the arm. He takes one of her feet in his hands and starts to work them, spending extra time on the knots and sore spots. The sounds Poppy makes has him shifting in his seat, his hands starting to work up her legs. He gets to her upper thighs, leaning down to press kisses along her inner thigh before she gently grabs his wrist. 

“Hey now, that’s what put this here,” she gestures to her belly. 

Clint presses another kiss to her inner thigh, higher up this time, listening as her breath hitches. “Well then, let me help you relax.”

Clint spends the next hour buried between her legs, Poppy’s fingers twisting in his hair, his fingers digging into her legs as she chants his name over and over and he thinks this would be the perfect way to go: smothered between his wife’s thighs.

“And that makes the last payment! Will you be taking home the crib today, sir?”

Clint puts his wallet in his pocket, nodding to the cashier. “I’ve got my truck out front.”

“Let me call for some help.” The cashier leans over her mic and asks for someone named John to come to the front for customer assistance. She makes idle chit chat with Clint, asking how his wife is doing so close to her due date.

“She’s stubborn and better be sitting her ass down and letting me take care of her,” Clint chuckles along with the cashier. 

“Don’t be too hard on her. She is fighting that nesting urge. It’s hard to resist, trust me!”

John comes up and takes the other end of the large box that contains a beautiful wooden crib that Poppy had laid eyes on months ago, determined to have that exact one for their baby. Clint had put it on layaway that same day, making sure he’d pay it off in time to assemble it before the baby’s arrival. He thanks John and takes off, glancing in the back at the box and smiling a little, already envisioning Poppy’s ecstatic face when she sees what he’s brought home. He turns onto their gravel drive, pulling into his parking spot and shifting the truck to park. He glances up at the house before reaching for the handle and freezes.

The door is cracked open. 

It’s very unlike Poppy to leave the door open, even when bringing in groceries. Clint’s eyes remain glued to the door, but he leans over to open the glovebox, carefully extracting the handgun he had stashed there. He checks the make sure it’s loaded before getting out of the truck, cautiously moving towards the front door, his stomach twisting tighter and tighter the closer he got. 

There were wood chips on the front step, an indication that this was not simply a case of forgetting to close the door. Someone had broken in. Gently, he pushes the door open, waiting a moment and hears nothing. He steps inside, gun raised and ears on high alert for anything, any sound. The main hall and living room are empty, aside from furniture tossed about, some of it destroyed. But as he cuts through the dining room just about to reach the kitchen, his boot slips and he looks down, choking back the fear and panic that immediately threatened to take him over.

Blood. 

He pushes into the kitchen, eyes roaming around at the mess and then he steps around the island, dropping to the floor and tossing the gun aside. 

“Poppy? Oh God Poppy? Can you hear me?” He cradles her head in his lap, tears flowing down his cheeks. Her color is pale and he can’t tell where the blood is coming from exactly. But then she blinks and he lets out a choking cry as she looks at him.

“Hey baby! Don’t move. I’m gonna call someone.”

“C…Cl…Clint…” Her words are choked and he can tell she’s holding back tears.

“Ssshh don’t talk, baby. You’ll be alright. I’m here now.” He reaches up on the counter, hand tapping around and landing on the phone before pulling it down to him. He quickly dials 9-1-1, barking at the responder to send an ambulance immediately before Poppy calls his name again and he drops the phone.

“They’re coming, Poppy. Just hold on.”

“Clint…I…I love you.”

“Hey now, none of that. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?” His throat is tight, his stomach churning as he pets her head, wiping the blood onto his pants. 

“Please..be happy. I want…want you to be..be happy.”

“I will be happy because you’ll be here with me.” He cradles her head in his lap, the tears falling harder and she reaches up, a wavering hand smeared with blood that she places on his cheek. Their eyes meet and in them he can see her resolve, her sorrow not for her own life but for him, for not being able to be here for him.

“Be happy, Clint. Have..have a good life. I can’t wait-” she gasps and closes her eyes for a moment before blinking them open and he can already see the glossiness in them. “-can’t wait to hear..all about it. I…I love you, Clint.” 

He swallows hard. “I love you too, baby.”

She smiles, one last time before she slumps, the light in her eyes that hard brightened his life gone, snuffed out too soon. Clint wails, yells, screams, and sobs into the empty house, holding her close. The pain is too loud, too raw and real, threatening to overtake him. But then people are in their house, his house, trying to take her from him. He fights back, yelling and screaming they can’t take her from him, and then he feels a sting in his neck before the world blacks out around him. 

It’s a bright and sunny day, the sky a vibrant shade of blue, and just the right amount of fluffy, white clouds in the sky. Poppy would call it the most perfect of days, warm but not too warm, the perfect day to spend outside. 

Clint blinks in the sunlight as he watches them lower 2 caskets into the ground, one considerably smaller than the other, the priest saying some sort of prayer over them as the people gathered around shed their tears. Clint picks up a handful of dirt, holding it in his hand for a few moments while he stares down at the wooden boxes that contain his family, his future, all taken from him in the blink of a violent eye. He always thought he’d be the one to go out that way, in a bloody mess. But not them. They didn’t deserve this.

Clint tosses the dirt on the caskets and steps back, letting her parents toss handfuls on top as well, not really hearing them when they bring him in for a hug and mumble something about coming over for dinner. He doesn’t hear any of them as they file past him, patting his shoulder, telling him if he needs anything to just call. That they were all here for him. But what he needs the most, they can’t provide. No one can bring them back, bring her back.

Clint returns home, skipping the wake at her parents’ house for some quiet contemplation. The house is nearly silent, only the clock on the wall and the hum of the appliances make any sort of noise. Clint sits at the little table they had in the kitchen, staring down at the floor where he had held her for the last moments of her life. 

He had cried so much since then, wailing and screaming at the world, begging whomever is listening to take him instead, that he would gladly switch places with them, give up his sorry life for them to have a chance. But of course, nothing happened besides his throat hurting, his eyes stinging from overuse. 

But as he stares at the floor, depression and sorrow washing over him, a small thought ticks at the back of his head. He initially had thought it was a random break in, not all uncommon in Oakland. But when he had picked up the pieces of his broken life, he had noticed that nothing had been missing. All of Poppy’s jewelry, despite most of it being costume jewelry, was still there, so was the tv and pretty much everything else. It hadn’t clicked then, too preoccupied in his immediate grief to really think. 

This wasn’t a random act of violence. This was targeted. This was specific. This was for him. 

Clint hates himself anew, burying his face in his hands at the idea of him being the cause of their death. But then it hits him, washes over him and changes his purpose. Once it was to take care of her, of his family, but that had been ripped away and so had his future, his purpose. 

Vengeance. 

He had nothing left to lose. Nothing that anyone could possibly take from him. So why not go out in a blaze of violence, taking down everyone that was connected to his wife and child’s death.

Clint pushes his sorrow aside, locking it away gently as he gets to work locating those who would soon meet their day of judgement.

Several months later…

Clint sits in his truck, staring at the entrance to a seedy bar, watching a few wayward souls enter, one punching the other in the arm before the door closes behind them. He glances down at the paper in his hand, triple checking that he had the address right. He takes out a lighter and burns the paper, waiting until the last embers fade out before getting out of his truck and heading inside. 

He sits at the bar and orders a drink, taking a few sips before flagging down the bartender again, asking him if he recognizes a few names. The bartender, a middle aged man with eyes that had seen war, stares at him for a few moments before nodding towards a corner, a small group of men standing around the pool table. Clint thanks the bartender, leaving a large tip on the counter before turning in his stool to watch the men. There were 4 of them and they were already towing the line between buzzed and drunk, slightly stumbling around before taking their shots. 

Clint moves silently over, quietly sliding his blade into 2 of them, not waiting for their bodies to crumble to the floor before the other two even noticed he was there. One tried to swing at him, which he dodges easily, his blade quieting the man’s movements. The last guy, Rick, backed into a corner, desperately fumbling with something he had in the back of his pants, presumably a gun. Clint takes 2 large steps towards him, a second too late to see the man stop searching for the gun and grab a knife instead, swinging it wide and slicing into Clint’s side.

Clint stumbles, grunting for a moment before straightening up, dodging the man’s swings, ignoring the yelps from the other bar patrons as Rick swings wildly, knife cutting into the air just in front of Clint. He gets a few more blows in, pain searing into Clint before he grabs Rick’s wrist, turning it with a crack, Rick yelping in pain as his knife drops to the floor. Clint gets his knife to Rick’s side, pinning him against the wall.

“You killed my family.”

“Wh..what?”  

Clint presses the knife a little harder and Rick grunts in pain. “You killed my family.”

“Look look look. I don’t know who you are, man!” Another small push and Rick yelps again. “Can you be more specific?”

Clint glares at him. “In my kitchen. Woman. Pregnant.”

The color seems to drain from the man’s face as he recognizes the situation. “Oh..oh..well, listen, we were just given’ the assignment, right? No hard feelings. We were just doing what we were told!”

“Who told you?”

“Ah, look man. I can’t just-” Clint pushes the knife further, feeling warmth start to seep out around the knife. “-ok ok! Fuck, stop! I’ll tell you!” He whispers a name to Clint, a name that sounded vaguely familiar. Frances Stokes. He thinks he’s worked with him before.

“Is that all?” Clint barks out.

Rick furiously nods his head. “Yes, yes!”

“Thanks.” Clint drives the knife further in and up, waiting for Rick to slump over. But when he turns around, the barrel of a gun is pointed at him, the bartender obviously nervous.

“Get out of here, man! Just go!”

Clint doesn’t need telling twice. He doubts anyone in here will say anything, each of them involved in their other dark dealings to be in a place like this. Clint makes it to the front door, stumbling out onto the sidewalk, his hand clutched to his side. He glances down at his hand, seeing the crimson shine in the street light. He glances up and for a moment is transported: a woman, the same hair as Poppy’s stares back at him, only a few feet away, eyes wide as she takes him in. 

“Look out!” She yells at him, just in time for Clint to turn, stopping the man that had been running up behind him with a fist to his stomach. They both fall to the ground, rolling and punching before Clint gets on top, letting his fists fly as the guy’s head slams against the pavement. Clint shifts off of him, turning to see the woman still there, her hair like a shining beacon before he feels himself falling backwards, the blackness swallowing him.

Sunlight warms his face and for a moment, Clint feels transported. Like he was at home, safe in his bed with-

He blinks awake, reality slamming into him as he remembers punching the guy out before blacking out. His head feels like it’s splitting in 2, and his side hurts bad, like he had been stabbed - wait. He had been stabbed. He tries to sit up, groaning and laying back down when his head felt like it was splitting open.

“Hey, he lives! I wouldn’t sit up just yet.” 

Clint blinks rapidly a few times, the disembodied voice trying to permeate its way into the meat that is his brain right now. But then a person moves into his vision and it all comes flooding back: the woman from outside the bar. The one with hair just like Poppy’s.

“Where..” Clint coughs, just realizing how dry his mouth is. 

“Take it easy. I have some water here with a straw.” The woman grabs a cup off the side table and holds it next to him, pinching the straw inbetween her thumb and pointer finger so it stays in place. Clint debates for a moment on taking the drink from a stranger, but then again, if she had wanted to kill him, she’d have left him on that sidewalk. So he takes a few greedy sips before she pulls the straw from his mouth.

“Take it easy. Small sips.”

“Throat..dry.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve been out for 2 days. But you have to take small sips so you don’t overload your system.”

Clint nods and the straw returns. He does as she says and realizes she was right. She sets the cup back on the side table.

“Where am I?” Clint lets out a small cough.

“You’re at my apartment. I couldn’t just leave you there, not after you took care of that man.”

The man. Right. “He ok?”

“I shouldn’t have bothered checking him, not after he nearly attacked me, but I’m a nurse and I took an oath so,” She gestures vaguely around the room. “He died on the sidewalk.”

Well that’s one less thing he has to worry about. “You don’t seem shaken about that.”

Her eyes go somewhere else for a moment before she blinks. “I’m no stranger to death.”

Silence rules the room for several long moments. 

“Are you hungry? I have some pain pills but we should get some food in you too. I also have some clean towels and clothes in the bathroom if you’d like to shower.”

“I think food sounds good.”

She nods and heads out of the room, distant sounds coming from the kitchen. Clint looks around the room. It was obviously her bedroom, sparsely decorated but a few photos of presumably family sit in frames on her dresser, as does an empty vase. She has a random poster on the wall, a movie poster for The Thing. The blanket he has is soft and light blue, but not frilly like he’d expect. But it is warm and comforting. She comes back in with a tray, a bowl of vegetable soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sitting on it, a glass of water off to the side. She places it on the dresser and walks to him. 

“Let me help you sit up.”

“Oh, I don’t want to mess your sheets up.”

She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can always get new sheets.”

She helps him sit up, Clint holding his head for several moments before the searing pain abates. She puts the tray over his lap, tapping on the tray next to 2 small pills. “Make sure to take those now and eat some food after. I’ll let you eat.”

Clint reaches for the pills. “Thanks, Flo.”

She cocks her head and looks at him. “Flo?”

Clint pops the pills in his mouth, taking a few more sips of water to swallow them with, hoping they act fast. “Yeah. Like Florence Nightingale. The nurse?”

She smiles and tells him her name. “But Flo. I like it.”

That night, Flo insists he takes her bed again, that he needs the space to recover. He tries to argue but she’ll have none of it, promptly telling him goodnight and to yell if he needs anything before closing the door most of the way. 

The pain in his side keeps him from getting a good sleep, pain throbbing out from the wound Flo had stitched up. He didn’t want to bother her, he could just grunt through it, but then she was there, softly pushing the door open and rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

“Fuck, didn’t mean to wake you, Flo.”

She yawns and stretches, her sleep shirt lifting a little and exposing a sliver of skin. “You didn’t. I have to get up for work anyway. But I can see you’re in pain. The meds not working?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“That happens sometimes when you gain consciousness. Give me a minute.” She disappears into the other room and returns a few minutes later, some scrubs tossed quickly on. She has a small pill bottle in her hand and she shakes one out, handing it to Clint.

“You can have one of these now but not another until I get home, ok? It’s pretty strong so don’t go mixing it with alcohol or anything.”

Clint nods. “Got it.” He pops the pill and swallows it, thanking Flo as she sets down some food next to him. 

“I’m going to be home this evening, but if you need me, here’s my work number. Just ask for me.” She sets a piece of paper down next to the phone on the nightstand. She pauses for a moment and looks at him. “I’ll uh..see you tonight.”

The meds kick in when she leaves and mercifully, they knock him out, Clint finally able to get the sleep his body desperately needed.

Fuck, getting injured at his age was not fun. Stabbings hurt a lot more than they used to. When Flo gets home she brings him more food, then has him take another pain pill. He passes out again, his dreams carrying him to dark places with familiar violent themes. He thrashes about, trying to rid himself of the images, and is yanked from his nightmare by a hand squeezing his shoulder. Clint’s eyes fly open and Poppy is standing there, her hair framing her face. He reaches out to touch her cheek, his fingers barely touching her soft skin.

“Poppy?”

She’s saying something that he can’t make out, so he shakes his head and blinks a few times. But when he opens them, he sees Flo standing there, worry etched in her features. 

“Clint! Are you with me?”

He puts his hand to his head and nods. “I…I think so.”

She puts her hand on his chest, trying to help him slow his breathing. “Are you ok? You were making a lot of noise.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Are you ok?”

He takes a moment, his head still foggy. “I…will be. I think.”

She stands there for another moment. “Who’s Poppy?”

Clint's eyes harden as he glares at her. “What did you say?”

Flo pulls her hand back, regret in her eyes. “Poppy. You were calling her name. Is it someone I can call for-”

“NO! Don’t ever say that name again! Get out!”

Flo nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Tears immediately fall down his cheeks and he buries his face in the pillow, remembering the first and last time he’d seen Poppy.

It was nearly a week before he could tolerate not being on those heavy pain meds. Basic ones now worked just as well and his head started to clear. He was having flashes of memories from the week but nothing concrete. He did feel like he needed to apologize to Flo but for what, he couldn’t clearly remember.

Clint walks to the kitchen, the movement feeling good. He puts together a dinner of sorts, random things he can find in Flo’s fridge that seems to just have ingredients, nothing premade. He just sits on the couch, taking a bite of a sandwich when the front door opens and Flo walks in, gently shaking out her coat before hanging it on the hook. 

“Raining?” Clint asks, his mouth still full of sandwich.

“Oh, hey! Yeah. Not so bad here but it was pouring by the hospital.” She moves around to sit next to him on the couch, her eyes studying him. “How are you feeling?”

“So much better. I really can’t thank you enough.”

She glances down at his plate with his small sandwich. “Why don’t I whip us up something warm? Just give me a few minutes to wash off the day.”

“Oh you don’t-”

“I have to eat too. I’ll just make more.”

She made something called pesto pasta, which Clint had never heard of before. It was different but he would eat it again for sure. They watched some game show and then the news before Flo was yawning. 

“You want to take your bed back tonight?”

“No, that’s ok. You take it. I’ve got my own little nest going out here.”

Clint chuckles. “If you’re sure.”

He gets ready for bed and sits down to get comfortable. It was then he noticed that he had left his medicine in the living room. Before he could do anything, there was a soft knock at the door and Flo comes in carrying the pain meds. 

“You forgot these. Figured you’d want them.”

“Thanks.” Clint takes the bottles and pops them open, swallowing the pills with the glass of water on the nightstand. Flo turns to leave but Clint stops her.

“Wait. Can I ask you something?”

Flo turns around to look at him. “Sure.”

“Did I…did I do or say anything to you when I was on those big meds?”

Her face hardens slightly. “Nothing I’m not used to. It’s ok.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. What did I say?”

“It’s ok, really. I’ve had worse.”

“It’s not ok to me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Flo, please. Tell me.”

She hesitates a moment, her eyes bouncing between his before she sits on the bed. 

“You were making a lot of noise one night and I came in to check on you. Your eyes opened but I don’t think you were really seeing things. You kept calling me Poppy. And when I asked who she was, you flipped out.”

Clint’s jaw tightens as the memory floods back. Her hair. That’s what made him think…

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me, Clint. I just wanted to know if I needed to call someone-”

“Poppy…was my wife.”

“Oh.”

Silence stretches on for several seconds before Clint swallows hard, continuing.

“She was…the love of my life. Made me a better man. Great woman. We got married…got pregnant. And then…” Clint clears his throat, blinking back tears, Flo waiting patiently, letting him take his time.

“I came home one day and they were…I held her while she…died.” He whispers the last word, but it’s like he yelled it, screamed it. He’d never talked about it with anyone, not even Poppy’s parents. 

Flo puts her hand on his and squeezes. “I’m so sorry, Clint.” He just nods, trying not to lose his shit in front of her. 

“You have her hair. It’s almost exactly like hers. So I guess I saw it and mixed with the meds, I thought…you were her.”

Flo nods, squeezing his hand a little harder. “I understand.”

Clint looks at her, his eyes hardening slightly. “How would you understand? How would you know what it’s like?”

She takes a deep breath before puffing it out. “I was engaged once. High school sweethearts. We were waiting to get married until we were out of school. Anyway, he was taking night classes and one night, this other guy decided it would be super fun to get drunk and drive….I lost my future that night. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Fuck. So she did know exactly how it feels.

“You remind me of him sometimes.” She says it so quietly Clint almost misses it.

“I do?”

“Yeah. It’s not…it’s in your small movements, the way the light hits your hair sometimes. So..I get it. Honestly, it’s just nice having someone else here. Someone who gets it.”

“Yeah. It is.” Clint squeezes her hand back and she looks at him, her eyes big in the lamp light, the glow bouncing off her hair and looking just like Poppy’s. 

Their hands stay intertwined for several long moments, Clint rubbing his thumb gently over the back of her hand. She scoots a little closer to him, her hand gently sliding up his arm. Clint’s breath picks up as her hand cups his cheek and they lock eyes, both silently asking the other if this was ok. Clint hesitates for a moment before slowly lowering his head to hers, their lips gently touching. Flo’s lips are soft and a little more plush than Poppy’s, but her tongue timidly brushing against his lips is all the permission he needs. 

His hand slides to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulls her close, his tongue dancing with hers. She moans softly, clutching at his shirt and he feels his pants growing tighter. Flo pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against his. 

“Bedroom. Nurse’s orders.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Flo takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom, the door closing behind them. For a moment they stare at each other, another moment of confirmation before she starts to pull her shirt off, the rest of her clothes following. Clint matches her actions, his own clothes falling into a pile on the floor. His eyes roam over her body before stepping forward, pulling her face to his again. Her fingers glide up the sides of his body, her warmth pressing into him and it all feels so intense, but not bad. He walks her backwards, her legs hitting the bed and she breaks the kiss to climb up it, Clint crawling over her, Flo’s legs opening to give him space. Her hands lightly squeeze his biceps, which feels nice but then the light from outside hits her hair a certain way and for a moment he’s transported, sees Poppy. 

His hips push against hers as his hand grips her hair, her heat enveloping him as she moans, her legs wrapping around him. He blinks and it’s Flo again, but as he works his hips against hers, the light catches every now and then in her hair, he gets flashes of Poppy.

Fuck, this feels good. It had been so long since he’d held someone, felt them touch him like this. He had been alone for too long, not letting himself live fully. He felt guilty, even with Poppy telling him to live his life. His eyes find Flo’s and he can tell she goes somewhere else occasionally too, his guilt slightly lessening at the thought he’s bringing her some comfort like she is him.

He can feel himself getting closer to the edge. He licks his fingers and snakes them between their bodies, teasing her between her legs. He can feel her starting to squirm, her breaths starting to pick up. Clint grabs her hand with his free one, lacing their fingers together as he pushes her hand into the mattress slightly above her head. Her fingers dig into his skin but the second she tightens around him he comes, burying his face in her hair. 

When he rolls off of her, Clint pulls her to him, feeling her nuzzle further into his chest before falling asleep. He stays awake a little longer, gently tracing shapes on her back as he thinks.

In the morning, just before the sun rises, he gets dressed, gathering up the handful of personal items he had. He hesitates briefly, staring down Flo as she sleeps. He presses a kiss to her head, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him before he steps out into the morning light, back into his life of violence.

A Few Months Later…

“You thought you could just kill my family and nothing would happen?” Clint twists the knife he had in the man’s leg, smirking when he screams out in pain.

“N..no!”

“Then why did you come for them?” Clint taps the knife and the man whimpers. 

“I wasn’t…we weren’t going to.” Tears were streaming down the man’s face, fear at seeing the end of his life.

“But then you decided to try and find me? Why?”

The man takes a shuddering breath. “Will you not kill me if I tell you?”

Clint grips the knife and the man cries out. “How about I’ll kill you if you don’t?”

“OK! OK!” He takes another breath, inhaling sharply through his nose. “We weren’t trying to seek revenge. But then one day, we get invited to this house and get handed everything on you. Who you are, where you live, all of it.”

Clint cocks his head. “Who gave it to you? Why?”

“They..they said they would give us a chance at revenge. Only if we promise to…to take you out.”

“Take me out. Why did you kill my wife?”

The man blinks, swallowing hard. “We were told to since she was…since your line would be carried on.”

Clint had to take several deep breaths so he didn’t turn this man inside out. He still needed one more piece of information. Someone had betrayed him, and he had a strong feeling he knew who. He swallows down his rage and looks the man in his eyes.

“Who?” He grunts it through gritted teeth and the man shivers. 

“He’ll kill me.”

Clint twists the knife hard and the man screams, jerking around against his restraints. “Who?”

The man seems to rethink his situation. “The….The Guy.”

That was the answer Clint was hoping not to hear but had a suspicion he would. It was the only thing that made sense. The Guy didn’t want him to quit, his best hitman. He knew the only way Clint would come back would be to have someone take away his new life. And The Guy made sure of that. 

Before the man could beg, Clint yanked the knife from his leg and slit his throat, waiting until the gurgling and sputtering stopped, his body still before he sighs, getting to work on cleaning up the mess. But his mind was elsewhere, planning and plotting. Which is why he didn’t hear another man coming up behind him until it was too late, his body falling sideways and slamming into the ground. 

The man gets on top of him, pulling out a knife. Clint dodges as best he can, but he does get a good knick on his shoulder. Grunting, Clint throws his body weight and the man, a lot skinnier than him, gets thrown off balance. Clint pushes up and manages to flip them, gripping the man’s wrist and slamming it against the floor, the knife clattering across the ground. No weapon in hand, Clint reaches for the man’s head, but his shoulder sends searing pain down his arm. He must have dislocated it when he hit the ground. Instead, Clint grabs the man’s hair, slamming his head into the ground until he stops moving. He gets off the man and sits for a moment to catch his breath, his shoulder throbbing.

Well this will make cleaning up suck. 

He can’t go to the hospital, but he knows he needs stitches. He can’t do it himself because of his fucking shoulder, which is just violently throbbing at this point. He knows where he can go, but should he? Finally, he gives in, knowing he has no other option. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Flo, he does. He really does. But that’s the exact reason he shouldn’t go. He doesn’t need to bring his shit to her.

He sighs, knocking on her door. It takes a moment but the door opens and there she is, almost glowing, just gorgeous. And for a moment, he’d forgotten why he was there.

“Oh! You’re bleeding!” Flo takes his hand but he jerks it back.

“Shoulder is dislocated.”

“You’re just all kinds of fun. Come on in.” 

Clint heads inside, kicking off his boots before following Flo into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair from the table and motions for him to sit down as she goes to get her med kit. She returns a moment later and sets it on the table, moving to stand next to him. 

“I take it you’ve had a dislocated shoulder before?” 

Clint looks up, her eyes big and round and he momentarily wonders why he had left. He nods, preparing himself while she gets into position, gripping him.

“Ready?”

“Just do it.”

Flo nods, looking down at his arm. “1…2…I’m pregnant.”

“What?! FUCK!” His arm pops back into place, the initial sharp pain quieting down to a dull ache. Flo hands him some pain meds and a glass of water but he pushes them away.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Take these. You’ll need them. I’ll also sling your arm.” 

“Fuck the sling. Flo, you’re…you’re pregnant?”

She takes the sling off the table, not meeting his eyes yet. She helps him get situated in the sling and reaches for the alcohol to start dabbing at his other arm. Clint had completely forgotten about the knife gash. But before she starts, he grabs her wrist, giving it a little shake so she’ll look at him. She sighs and meets his gaze, worry etched in her face.

“I..am.”

“Who…am…am I…”

“I’ve only been with you since the accident.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t mean to get her pregnant. Fuck, this is not what either of them need. It’s not that he doesn’t want the kid. He would love to be a dad, was going to be a dad before…fuck. He has to kill The Guy or he’d find them and kill them too. FUCK. He has to protect them. Clint is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even feel it when Flo starts to sew his wound, tying it off and putting a bandaid over it.

“You should be all set. Just try not to fuck with that shoulder too much.”

Clint’s mind clears and he focuses on the main objective: to keep Flo and his unborn child safe. He can’t let them die for him, for his mistakes. He will never let that happen again, even if it kills him.

“I’ve gotta go.” Clint abruptly stands and pushes past a bewildered Flo, grabbing his keys and closing the door gently behind him. It never occurs to him to say anything to Flo. She doesn’t need to know about this. About any of it. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the sobs coming from inside the home as he walks away from it. 

It takes him another month to locate The Guy’s new hiding place. He imagines it would be difficult for anyone to find - anyone who doesn’t know The Guy like he does. Clint watches from his steakout point, his eyes hardening and his brain sliding into his job mode, compartmentalizing what he needs to do to protect his family. What he should’ve done before.

The bodyguards at the door hesitate when Clint walks towards them, but soon they are silenced, slumping to the ground before they even had time to draw their guns. Quietly, Clint moves inside, making his way down the hall, silencing another several guards. The Guy really needed to hire better employees. He pauses outside of what looks like a main door, listening. From inside, he hears a familiar voice, a voice that has commanded him to do so many violent things for him.    

“I don’t care what it takes, I want it done!” A phone slams down, The Guy sighs. “I swear, it’s so hard to find good help these days.” 

Clint listens for a few minutes, hearing no other movement behind the door aside from The Guy, assuming he was alone in his office. Clint takes a deep breath and stands straight, holding his gun at the ready before pushing in the door and aiming his gun directly at The Guy. When Clint enters, The Guy glances up, all color draining from his face. He was totally alone and he knew from looking at Clint that the cat was out of the bag.

“H-hey Clint. How’s retired life?”

“Why?”

Beads of sweat start to drip down The Guy’s temples. “Why what?”

“Why did you kill them?”

He seems to debate for a moment, settling on the truth instead of pretending he didn’t know. “Look man, good workers are hard to find. And you were the best. You did everything for me and so when you wanted to leave….well, you knew too much.”

“So you took out my family?”

The Guy shrugs. “I figured maybe you’d come back if you had nothing left. Besides, I couldn’t have you continuing your line if they’d go to work for someone-”

POP!

Clint fires his gun, hitting The Guy directly in the forehead, his body crumbling to the ground. He listens for a moment, but no one comes running. No one else is here. Clint lowers his gun, dropping to his knees and buries his face in his hands, wailing and screaming, as he gets closure on the last chapter of his life.

Clint stands in front of Flo’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking. He had been sitting in front of her apartment for another 2 weeks, making sure no one was casing the joint. But no one would - Clint had taken out the remainder of The Guy’s associates. No one would be coming for them. 

The door opens and Flo stands before him looking absolutely breath taking. Her eyes widen and her mouth nearly drops on the floor.

“Clint?” She whispers it, hesitating for a moment before reaching her hand out. 

“It’s me.”

SLAP!

Clint rubs at his cheek, chuckling a little to himself at the assault. He deserved that. He deserved more than that.

“What the fuck Clint? I tell you I’m pregnant with your baby and you just leave? Not even a word?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Flo. But I had to…had to make sure you were safe.”

“I don’t expect you to be involved, but you could’ve- safe?”

He nods. ”Can I come in?”

She studies him, her eyes somehow seeing through him and she nods, opening the door. “Lock it behind you.”

This time, he decides to tell her everything, about his past life, about what happened to Poppy, what he’d done now to protect them. How he couldn’t let it happen again, not when he has the chance to have a family again. To his surprise, when he was done, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, holding him tight. He hugs her back, swallowing down some tears and melting into her embrace. It’s several long moments before she pulls back, cupping his face with her soft, warm hands.

“It’s not your fault, Clint.”

He looks down, shrugs a little. “But-”

“You can’t control what other’s do. Poppy knew that. Why do you think her last words were of love and not revenge? She doesn’t blame you, Clint. She would want you to be happy. So, be happy. Even if…even if that’s not with us.”

His eyes snap to hers and he’s surprised to find tears there. “Do you want me to leave? I understand if you-”

“No!” She grips his face a little tighter. “No. I want you here, but I need all of you here. We need it. But if you can’t, I understand.”

“You…you want me? Even though I’ve…I’m a violent…”

She cuts him off by pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Look, I knew you were in some shit when we met. I’m not stupid. You came tumbling out of that bar stabbed and then tussled with another guy. I had to patch you up and you bled all over my floor. I figured you were in some shit. This is Oakland. But..you were also gentle with me and patient, even when I told you about my past and I thought…we had that moment and I know we were both a little in our heads during it, but it was..fuck, it was nice having someone, especially someone who..gets it. I like you, Clint. I don’t expect you to like me in the same way, but however you want to be involved in our lives, that’s fine with me.”

How the fuck did he lead such a violent and fucked up life, all the shit he’s done, and he managed to find not one but two amazing women who just cared for him despite it? Poppy never knew exactly what he did, but Clint always suspected she knew he wasn’t really a delivery driver. She just never pressed. Just carried on loving him. 

Clint reaches forward, cupping her face in his hand this time. “I want to be involved with the baby. And I’d…I’d like to see where this goes,” he gestures between them and she smiles, realizing his intent. 

“Really?”

“Really. But know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for both of you.”

Clint and Flo dated for a month or so before they decided it was easier to just move in together. They found a little place for their growing family, a little 2 bedroom place in a better area of town. Clint had had some extra money after taking out The Guy (and raiding his safe) and happily moved them all in. Clint is there for every weird craving, anytime she wanted something at 3am, foot massages, all of it. He loved being there for her, talking to her belly, but also being with her. Flo was the first person to help him realize that he still deserved love. And even if he didn’t believe it, he knew that Flo deserved it and he would spend the rest of his time making sure she had it. 

Their son Christopher came screaming into the world right on time. They got him cleaned up, wrapped in blankets and a little tiny hat and handed him to Clint. He gently takes Christopher in his arms, walking over to Flo who was still laying on the bed. Tears well in his eyes as he stares down at his son, Flo leaning her head on his arm and he sighs, happy that he’s finally getting the life he wanted. 

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[iamasaddie]

contacts

paring: Clint x f!reader warnings: PWP (literally no plot, AT ALL) ER; age gap (not specified), explicit sexual content word count: 1,3k~ ~a/n: told you I was writing a smutty follow up. u can concider it being in the same universe as CRACKS or read as a stand-alone, really doesn't matter. not beta-ed. masterlist

The thrusts of his hips were unrelenting, the burning stretch of his cock parting your insides so familiar and yet so exciting every single time. His deep breaths became erratic and labored, and you smiled knowing what’s gonna happen next.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, a single droop of sweat traveling from his forehead down the curve of his nose and you lifted you head licking it off. “Fuck, I think my heart is gonna crash.”

Clint was a generous and adventurous lover, your sex drive matched perfectly which meant you both liked to fuck like rabbits, but he was twice your age and even though it wasn’t a problem, sometimes it showed. After a long way of working, or chopping wood and doing shit in the backyard, his want for you would never go away, but his ability to go as hard and long as he usually did would definitely be affected. You never complained because truly you didn’t have a reason to, you still got your fair share of orgasms, be that caged between his massive thighs and strong arms or bouncing on top of him.

Today was one of those days, Clint practically dragged you to the bedroom, giving you only a moment to turn the stove off and ripping both of your clothes on the way up. He was needier than usual but you felt yourself getting wet just from the look of desperation in his face.

Pretty soon he was balls deep inside you, punching the air out of your lungs with every thrust and growling filth in your ear. When his energy started to give out, you felt a ringing slap landing on your thigh as he fell on his back next to you and dragged your buzzing body on top.

“Come one, baby, ride my dick. Show me how much you love me.”

You grinned, lining him up to your sleek entrance and sinking on his shaft in one smooth motion. Clint kept his eyes open, the only indication of his pleasure were his gritted teeth and the hard cock that probed at your cervix with every motion. 

He became unusually quiet, his eyes running from your face, to your tits that bounced more appetizingly than a Sunday roast after years of starvation. Clint kept staring, going lower to where you easily swallowed his girthy shaft, making him grunt and moan as your walls contracted around it.

“Fuck, baby, you look so fucking hot when you ride my dick like that. Prettiest fucking thing,” he squeezed out through tense lips and his hands gripped bruises into your thighs. His strong arms helped you go up and down on his cock, he practically maneuvered you himself, used you like a barely conscious sex toy.

“You should take a picture,” you half whispered, the words interrupted by the sharp intakes of your breath every time the fat head of his cock nudged your g-spot. 

“Good idea,” one of his hands released you and you saw him blindly searching for a phone beneath the pillows. Yours was the first one he found and he spent less than a couple of seconds angling the camera just right to fit you into the frame.

“Gonna be my own fucking porn star, baby.” His eyes jumped from the little screen back to your body, left hand going from gripping your thigh to squeezing your tit. The feeling of his cock becoming even harder inside you, the thrill of being recorded and the clear awe in the eyes of your man made your head dizzy. The intoxicating mix of emotions and feelings guided you to your climax way quicker than you expected, and Clint obviously saw that on your face with the way you felt him thrusting his hips up harder and steadier. 

"Come on, little one, be a good girl, m and cum on my cock.” He brought the camera so close that the only thing it captured was the way his dick, wet from tour juices and his own precum, disappeared in your stretched hole. The quiet grunts and your moans were only interrupted by the filthy squelch of your cunt taking-taking-taking and the depravity of it made you want to ride him even harder. Clint brought his left hand back  to your hip making sure that his hand wasn’t blocking the view of your pussy as he started pressing and circling your aching clit violently dragging the orgasm out of you. “That's my girl, cum on me.  Fucking soak me, baby, want the drops to hit the fucking camera. Cum for me, baby."

Your body shook as your orgasm almost squeezed the life out of your body. Your vision got blurry for a moment and your hands pressed into Clint’s soft stomach to help you remain on top. While your walls continued to contract, his still hard and throbbing cock was still inside you. You took a few deep breaths, steadying yourself and shook your head to come back to your senses. Your hand silently stretched, taking the phone out of Clint’s hand that he gave with no questions. But when you turned the camera on him he was visibly confused.

“What is that about?”

“It’s my turn seeing you turn into a fucked out mess, loverboy,” you started to slowly rotate your hips, overstimulated but too hooked on seeing him come undone, on feeling him full you up. Your movements shut him up quickly, returning his attention to his own pleasure. You loved how his face screwed as if he was in pain when he came. He didn’t control himself in that moment, letting you see the raw emotions elicited by the heights of his pleasure. 

Unlike him, you made sure the camera got his face, your legs already burning with exertion. You caught the moment when Clint bared his gritted teeth, and your free hand slid up his stomach to punch his nipples that he refused to admit were quite sensitive. Just as you did that your pussy squeezed his cock in a choking hold.

“Please, give me your cum,” you started whispering like a madwoman, it took all of your strength to try and keep the camera upright, “fill me up, please, I wanna feel you in my fucking stomach.”

Clint’s growl was inhumane as his hips punched into yours for the last time, warm ropes of cum painting your insides in fat stripes. For a moment you both were in trance, just looking at each other, you even forgot you were holding the phone in your hand, camera still rolling, until he took it from your hand and pressed stop. 

“Bet we would make a lot of money on OnlyFans.” You giggled, laying on top of him while his cock slowly softened inside you. Your sweaty bodies stuck together, soft stomachs pressing into each other as you found the right temp of breathing. 

“What’s that?” Clint asked, his hand finding your hair and stroking it gently.

“It’s a… you know what, it’s nothing.” You mumbled in his skin. 

You spent a few moments in silence and just as you were about to ask Clint if he actually wanted the video or if he did it for the thrill of the moment, you heard a soft and familiar sound of his snoring. 

Gently kissing his skin above his heart, you climbed off him and settled by his side, fishing the phone from between your pillows and opening the photo app. 

“Finally I have a picture for your contact,” you whispered to yourself, cropping the screenshot you took from the video, a moment when he looked at you with his eyes full of content, settling in the post orgasmic haze.

[boliv-jenta]

Clint x f!reader

Just a little something to fit in with the movie.

Warnings: TW: Pregnancy. Aftermath of violence. Cheating. Smut. P in V sex. Light degradation.

WC:2.8k

The Dance

The dull roar of the late evening traffic on the nearby highway is almost soothing in the otherwise quiet night. The urban equivalent of waves on the shore. The neighbour's dog a few houses down lets out a few warning barks before silence returns to the darkness. The beginning of a sound in the house has you trying to quiet your pounding heartbeat to allow you to listen more closely. As the sound grows more familiar, you swallow your anxiety to drag yourself from your soft bed. 

By the time you release yourself from the comfort of its warm embrace, the source of the sound is already standing in your bathroom. Broad shoulders hunched over as he searches the contents of your first aid kit tipped out onto your counter. 

“Clint?” Your sleep thick voice is quiet but the bathroom is small, he hears you even if he acts like he doesn't. 

The smell of him fills the space, copper, oil and fire. The blue plaid shirt that clings to his wide frame is torn and muddied. The hair that brushes his collar is curled with sweat. When he reaches out for a towel you see his knuckles are split. Blood covers the back of his hands, whose blood is anyone's guess. At least some of it is his but you doubt all of it is.

“Clint.” You try again stepping closer, your hands skimming his back.

As if he's avoiding your touch he finally turns. His knuckles aren't the only thing split, his bottom lip and left eyebrow are slashed with red. Beneath his left eye is beginning to swell. The skin is mottled with purple.

“Clint?” You reach up to touch his eye only for him to catch your hand and push it away. 

“You should see the other guy.” He says flatly.

A shudder runs through you at the thought of it. Clint feels it too. His work has always been a sticking point between you. It's the reason you aren't together right now. It's why you're dating the manager of the local bowling alley. When that fizzles out because he isn't Clint and you go running back to him, it will be the reason you split up again. Round and round you go. Pulled together to be torn apart.

“Let me help.” You might not agree with his line of work but you will always be there when he needs you.

“I'm good. I'm sorry. I took a good shot to the head. This was the first place I thought to come. I forgot that you…I saw his car wasn't in the drive.” Clint begins to pick up a few items from the counter. Gauze, iodine solution, some bandages.

“He's away on business. Setting up a new location.” Your partner had been gone for three weeks and you'd barely noticed. If you don't see any sign of Clint for that long dread claws at your insides. “If you've had a knock to the head you need to get checked out.” Clint rolls his eyes. 

“Fine.” You concede. “At least stay here so I can keep an eye on you.”

With a huff, he leans back on your counter. It's as much of an answer as you are going to get. All this time the only light in the room had been from the hallway and Clint's cellphone. Pulling the cord for the overhead light, the extent of Clint's injuries were revealed to you. His eye was going to be swollen and bruised for a long while. The right side of his face was streaked with blood as if he'd attempted to wipe it off. His thick hair was matted with dried blood. 

“Get in the shower. I can't tell if you're bleeding or if it's just….” Sighing you reach into the tub to turn the overhead shower on. You bring the water to the bearable side of boiling, just how Clint likes it. 

Without a second thought he strips naked in front of you. You take note of the fresh bruises on his body. Someone had been taking shots at his kidneys. To keep your hands from his body you busy yourself with picking up the supplies that Clint had picked out. Through the screen over the tub you can see the outline of Clint's body. An outline that you could trace in your sleep. You knew every inch intimately. They say you never forget your first and you hadn't. It probably helped that over the last thirty years you'd found yourselves together more often than not. He was the one you ran to when you dropped out of college. He broke down at your door when his mom passed away. He fucked away the last doubts that leaving your fiance, the week before the wedding, was the right thing to do. Though his job and other circumstances kept you apart you always found your way back to each other. Like now as he sat on the edge of the tub, a towel wrapped low on his waist. Your fingers skim his brow as you tape up the gash there. Finally, he relaxes, leaning into your touch. His own touch wraps around the back of your bare thighs. The heat of his thick fingers burns into your skin as he holds you there, not moving until a sigh leaves your lips. It's a sigh of contentment. Clint knows the dance has begun again. You'll give into each other. Devour each other's bodies in carnal haze until you are dizzy with it. Until the world twisted and all the things that kept you apart were straightened out. Until a life together seemed possible. And for the briefest time it would be until reality settled itself back in.

Clint's large hands cup the full flesh of your ass to pull you close. He presses soft kisses to your stomach and your breast through the thin cotton of the t-shirt you were sleeping in. Your fingers knead at the kinks in his strong shoulders. His touch is unhurried, there's no shame in it, even with the toiletries that clearly belong to your partner dotted about the room. He doesn't care that you have a boyfriend. Neither do you. No matter who keeps your body warm at night, it always belongs to Clint. 

Even with his injuries Clint was more than strong enough to carry you to your bed. With great care he lays you on the now cool sheets. More sweet kisses litter your skin. Until he draws level with your hips and feels the heat radiating off of your barely covered core. Then another side to Clint makes itself known. This is the side that you know makes his job bearable to him. One with an animalistic clarity. The one that taps into, that acts on impulse to get the job done. 

“Fuck. So warm for me. I bet you're soaked too. I haven't even touched this pussy but it's ready for me. What does it want? Hmmm? Does it want my tongue? Does it want me to suck that clit?” He licks along the centre of your panties. When your hips rise to meet him, he pins them down with an iron grip. 

“Does it want to see how many of my fingers it can take?” His fingertips tease the edge of your panties, grazing the soft flesh of your thighs. “Or does it just want to be stuffed full on my cock?”

Before you can answer he yanks your panties down and spreads your legs.

“Look at you. So wet for me. I bet I could slide right in, balls deep in one go.” His towel slips away as he crawls up your body. Form a thick thatch of brown curls his cock stands thick, bobbing heavily with each motion until your view of it is obscured by him settling between your legs.

The two of you moan in harmony as he circles your clit with the fat head of his cock. As he teases your excited bundle of nerves, he works to coat himself with your wetness. Dropping his hips, his slides his cock through your slick folds until he catches at your entrance. True to his word, he fills you in one long slow thrust. No matter how many time you take him it feels like the first all over again. He splits you in two. The feel of him overwhelms you until all you can do is cling to him and take it.

“My girl. No one takes my cock like you.” He breathes into the crook of your neck.

The next few minutes pass with you both being impossibly close and you begin impossibly full as Clint barely pulls out and just pushes deeper and deeper into the warm bliss of your pussy. Fuck he needs you. Not just to take his cock. He needs you to mend his soul. The cracks in his spirit aren't as easy to hold together any more. They aren't clean solid spills, they've begun to splinter, the delicate shards keep falling away no matter how hard he tries to keep himself together. He's nearly fifty and what does he have to show for his life? The only thing he has is you and even that isn't real. You're not really his. He can have you for a moment. He can buy you a cup of coffee now and then. He can fuck you like your lives depend on it, and he swears sometimes that his does. He can stop by to check on you now and then but anything more, anything longer and his past catches up. If he holds you for too long or too tight those shards will shred you too.

The dull sound of your cell phone vibrating next to your pillow catches Clint's attention. The screen lights up with your boyfriend’s contact details. Clint notes that he doesn't have his own ringtone or an image with his contact. When Clint calls, your screen lights up with a photo of the two of you at the fair and intro to Eric Clapton's Layla plays. It was playing on the radio when he first said I love you. Laying in the back of his dad's pick up with a million stars and possibles ahead of you.

“Answer it.” At first you don't even know what he's talking about, you're too lost in the feel of him. Snatching up the phone, he slides his thumb across the screen to answer it before holding it to your ear. 

“Hey.” You try to sound as casual as possible with another man's cock deep inside you.

“Hi, Babe.” Clint finally pulls out, allowing you to breathe as your boyfriend starts to chat to you. “Work is slow so I thought I'd check in.” 

As you open your mouth to answer Clint slams back in causing you to stifle a moan. “Babe? You ok?”

“Yeah, sorry. I couldn't sleep so I did a workout. I'm just using my massage gun to loosen up my muscles.”

A wicked grin splits Clint's perfect lips as he watches you lie for him. 

“Shame I'm not there. I could loosen you up.” There's no mistaking the suggestive tone is your boyfriend's voice. 

Luckily, you managed to tap mute before Clint's hips picked up speed. The moan you let out is inhuman. The neighbour's dog pipes up again. Probably mistaking you for a beast in the night.

Clint drops the cell phone to brace his hands on the headboard. “I wish he was here.” He grunts he used the strength in his whole body to pound you deeper. “I'd show him how to fuck this tight cunt properly. Can he make you come with just his dick?”

You can't answer at first. You're now pushed up so far that you are propped up by the headboard. Your legs are spread wide, one hangs limply off the bed, bouncing with each thrust. All you brain can think is about the ecstasy between your legs.

A sharp slap to your cheek makes you focus. “Does he make you come with just his dick?”

“No.” You admit.

Clint seems satisfied with that answer. He moans deeply for a few moments enjoying the feel of your pussy choking him.

“How does he make you come?” When you refuse to meet his eyes, he grips your jaw and stills his hips.

“He hardly does. He tries to finger me or eat me out but he never quite gets me there.” You quietly confess as you use the moment to catch your breath.

The laughter that bursts from Clint is wicked. “Poor Baby. This cunt must have been waiting for me to come around to treat it right. No wonder you were so wet. Don't worry. I'll take real good care of you.”

The air is punched from your lungs when Clint starts thrusting hard and deep. His cock is so big that it rubs up against your g-spot before battering your cervix. There's nothing else in this world for you except for Clint. The feel on him inside you, he sweat slick skin sliding against yours. The distance drone of his words that don't quite make it to the plain of bliss that he has you ascended to. 

A sharp tug of your t-shirt up barely registers until it's followed by a sharp tug of your nipple. “Fuck me. Look at you. Too cock dumb to answer. I said, "Is this what you needed?”

Drool spills from the corner of your mouth as you try to answer before settling on a nod. 

“Shit.” He laughs. “I'm not even trying that hard. I'm so worked up I'm just using this perfect hole to jerk off. I need to blow my load. Where should I? Hmm?” He takes a second to catch his breath as readjusts to push even deeper. An howl from you rings in the night. It's accompanied by you clawing  at Clint's back. Maybe the neighbour’s dog is right, you are a beast in the night. One that only Clint can transform you into.

“I hadn't shot it all over your pretty face for a while or your tits. I don't think I could pull out though. Guess I'll just have to fill you with it. Did he fill you before he left? Are you going to have two men's loads dripping from you, you little slut?” His large hand is on the base of your neck now, squeezing even so slightly.

“He n-never has. Make him…wear a condom. Just…just you..” your orgasm building makes it hard to speak.

“Just me that fills this pussy. Isn't that special? Just me that uses you like a cock sleeve.”

Clint stops taunting you as he puts all his energy into fucking you closer to you peak. He moans and grunts into your hair while his whole body stretches and flexes on top of you. He is the most gorgeous creature you have ever had the fortune to lay your eyes on. Everything about him gets you closer. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm close. Oh, fucking milk my cock. Come on.” His thumb finds your clit and with a few strokes you do exactly as he says. Your channel clamps down on him and pulse around him until all his thick white cum is warming your walls. After you muscles all contact toward your centre at the pinnacle of your pleasure they all release leaving you limp underneath him. 

“Are you okay?” Clint finally comes back to you. His demeanour softens along with his cock inside you.

“I'm perfect.” You sign now even trying to fight the smile on your face.

“I know you are.” His whiskers tickle as he kisses your forehead. “I'm sorry. I should have stayed away. You have someone…”

“He's not you. He's just a placeholder. We both know that. I'll call him now. I'll have his stuff out on the lawn in the morning.” You expect him to laugh. For the same excuses to leave his lips.

“Do it. Just give me a few weeks. I'm close to getting out.” His tone is deadly serious.

“What? How?” Your heart swells so much with hope that it almost chokes you.

Clint holds you close his eyes sparkle with promise as yours begin to close. “It's better that you don't know. But I am going to do it this time. Then you and me will get that little place back home and no one will bother us.”

The dance was shorter this time. Clint was gone by the morning. Even after all the sweet nothings you whispered to each other in the night. Little did either of you know that the dance would be different next time. The steps would change to match the new song. A song with an extra beat. The heartbeat of the baby growing inside you.

[daniegraceg]

Twitter knows what's up here

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

@joelalorian @burntheedges

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

New Character - Clint from Freaky Tales 💚

@toomanystoriessolittletime Pero Dessert / Joel + Frankie Illicit Affairs

@beskarandblasters Din Was It All A Dream?

@ghostofaboy Din Take Your Time

@tightjeansjavi Javier Knead + Suave/ Joel Warm Me Up

@boliv-jenta Javier Confession / Clint The Dance

@morallyinept Joel Yours and Mine, Mine and Yours 

@wildemaven Dave Strangers

@pedropascalsx @absurdthirst Dave A Long Awaited Reward

@mothandpidgeon Dieter Southpaw

@missredherring Dieter “I think I’m ready”

@5oh5 Frankie Warm Water

@wardenparker Frankie Hurry Home

@bluestar22x Javi G The Writing Contest

[pvnkesttt]

all im saying is that upcoming freaky tales pedro pascal character could work as a twin brother of joel's so fanfic writers.......im just saying! 👀👀

[castle-dominion]

don't tell my family but I want to try out liveblogging an ep I haven't seen before. Maybe it will make me finally Shut Up during the family watch

4x17 I think, once upon a crime.

little red riding hood lol I recognize that bridge from the spy episode I think Sexy big billowy red cape btw, oh & falls like a dame

It's like TUA I'd believe that. This a biography? Also as a mentally ill person heck yeah I love a good scribe! martha just taking over his office lol "I'd like to write another one"

RC: First Alexis is interning for Lanie, now my mother is taking over my office. (again, don't u remember life coaching in I think s1?) I feel like my whole life is being invaded. KB: You'll get used to it. I did.

Oh she's barefoot! & those are deep facial gashes LP: they're shallow Me: ?????? Castle obv it's little red riding hood, but the story was not a prophesy. KB: Great, Castle. I'll call in an APB for the Big Bad Wolf. RC: Do you have a better theory? [Beckett chews on her lip. She keeps walking.] KB: Hey, Ryan? [Ryan walks over. normal jacket, not a coat & not rly fancy, def not a dress coat, he has a scarf, no tie but pinkish shirt with white stripes.] KB: Do you think you could call dispatch, see if there are any reports of a violent animal running around the park? KR, castle jr: Like a wolf? A Big Bad one? KB: Really? KR: *points* That is exactly how I pictured her. It's freaky. My older sister used to read me that story.

RC: "…when he leaped up and gobbled down poor Little Red Riding Hood." Well, the good news is the Wolf can talk. So, if we can find him, we might be able to get a confession.

I love love love love love folktale, it is such an important part of folklore & culture. I want a Métis story at some point but we are such a small community that nobody is going to do it except us. But hey that's what fanfiction is for!

Ok why does esposito's hair keep growing? I prefer this to the hair in s3 but s1+2 hair was nice. I like how he has opinions on fairy tales at least. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would share that.

KB: Are you drinking Castle's Kool-Aid now? Oh btw espt's outfit: nice grey suit jacket with a square pattern on it, nice dark blue (but obv blue) shirt, dark desaturated blue tie with thin white stripes & thick grey stripes. Sometimes he comes to work looking like this, other times he is wearing what I'd wear as pyjamas.

Oh it's always the person the family member brings in with them. It's going to be this man. Also dang she needs to join a union or smth bc no human should be working 100h/week, no human should be working 80 hours a week, heck no human should be working 40 hours a week! We have machines & automation now, we have more PEOPLE now, why are we working MORE? We should all be living our lives singing & dancing & making music & drawing & painting & writing & conversing & sleeping & petting animals & cooking & eating & smiling. Besides, every job out there? Someone wants to do it. The world is a wonderful beautiful place (I say as a person with a severe case of major depressive disorder) full of love & fulfillment & community. It should not be a place where people work 100 hour work weeks.

Holy crap I'm not even at the titlecard! Capes are coming back into fashion! People have been talking about it lately! (beckett looks so... boring, so normal. I want her to look cool again, her pixie cut was good

Long hours high pressure? She's probably really into kink or smth. Or that steampunk bar. RC: There’s this whole adult role-playing subculture obsessed with fairytales. (castle...?) KB: RC: No-- not that kind of adult role play. Although, there’s that one, too. KB: And you know this how? RC: Did a little research. KB: 🤢 RC: (chuckle) Bo Peep. KB: ._. RC: Anyway, these people get dressed in the outfits, they play the characters, they even reenact the stories. Maybe that’s what Amy was doing when everything went horribly and tragically wrong. KB: Castle, that is a surprisingly reasonable and grounded theory. RC: Yeah. *JE enters* Frankly, I’m a little disappointed in myself. JE: We all are, bro. KB: : ) (I'm assuming that's disappointed in castle not "we all" as in disappointed in ourselves)

KB closeup: Contact her bank. See if they know why she made that withdrawal. JE heading out: As you wish. jafsdhajsdkfhas Apparently huertas & katic are both fans of the princess bride & so when they have beckett closeups huertas will respond with "as you wish" to make her laugh but this time they kept it in or scripted it in bc it's a fairy tale episode & I think that was cute af. yk I would actually think it would be great if espt was a princess bride fan. It's a story full of torture & sword fighting & politics & giants & war & pirates & revenge & poison & miracles & mountains & oceans & bloodthirsty eels & he gets the sexy lady in the end.

reminds me of that episode in murdoch mysteries. The guy spoke ojibwe & said ma'iingan but I, knowing some cree (& having context), figured out that it meant wolf since the cree word is mahikan. So proud of myself.

Ok I understand trying to blame a wolf but dressing her up as red riding hood? This was NOT for the purpose of pretending the killer is a wolf & getting away with it. Or maybe he drugged her with K & brought her to the park, maybe so he could hunt her & roleplay, maybe it was consensual nonconsent or smth, but then why would he drug her?

hOLY CRAP that is One Nice Vest! Look at that! Ryan has a beautiful vest with a blue back panel & omg is it nice, with that light pink shirt? (& those fkn eyes) Oof I think it suits him SO well. Who is the costume designer? Who dressed ryan? I need to speak with you & bake you a pie.

*casually uses a sexily tanned gal instead of idk like an anemic or smth* but then again black hair doesn't really occur in white ppl (except my gramma but she's technically Métis)

OH SO ONLY NOW IS THE INTRO? I FEEL LIKE I'M ALREADY A THIRD OF THE WAY THROUGH THE EPISODE

ok also what's going on with ryan's hair? he looks like me rn, we both need to cut our hair, I have a mohawk but I'm brushing it back instead of up bc it's too long (I have thin hair, product sometimes just weighs it down)

I might actually call them a spree killer bc of the closer proximity in time & location Ok I always thought that it was just esposito furrowing his eyebrows but I think that's actually a scar that jon huertas has & now I feel bad lol Lunch at what time? (thanks ryan) wait I just had a thought: don't look into the victim, look into the killer. Evil stepmother & big bad wolf? What is in common with them?

at least ryan says "excuse me" before taking his call, unlike OTHER people That's a palindrome number. 50 605? Ryan *just standing there with his head in the door*

AC: about you too *taps her dad's nose* WAIT SHE DID MAKE EXAGGERATIONS RIGHT? BUT DID MARTHA REALLY SLEEP WITH HIS FIRST PUBLISHER? OH PLEASE LET THAT BE TRUE Oh well at least it was after the book was out......... StiLL, WhAT Castle *pours himself a finger of scotch after seeing his mom flirt with the playwrite younger than him* Martha: Oh, darling, I invited Beckett to the reading tomorrow night, so you two might want to make a date of it. Rick: *pours more booze*

Remember when rick said "if I ever choose to write a biography remind me to Not"? Yeah Martha is doing it now KB: Oh, so you don’t like it when someone writes their own version of your life? Interesting. RC: Okay, are you referring to the Nikki Heat books? Because this is completely different.

oh fu heck yes ryan in that pink shirt that's so good. Maybe the costume design is putting him in so much pink lately bc he just got married. & then esposito with his layers upon layers? He's breaking down the homo headcanon/au in favour of a bi one with all them those layers. it's going to be martha's acting studio

Woah ok this is interesting camera work, I'm on my period & I have a headache & I'm in pain & I'm overheating & so I feel nauseous, this camera work is not the best for me rn. But hey espt & ryan have p big guns & their vests are black & called nypd not blue & police. But the other ppl (who are actually wearing helmets) do say police. Yay ryan gets to break the door this time

Oof I Looooove a creepy doll, I love haunted dolls I love creepy collections of things I love my auntie doris's house with all her creepy dolls i love my bone collection, also poor ryan with a fear of dolls ever since he watched that movie as a kid lmao

she's so right tho. She was coming to the door she was just slow! Tho she could have said "coming" ig. Maybe she was waiting to hear another knock on the door. Ooh yk I'd like to have a teenager in their room not notice breaking down the door bc they are listening to loud music. or a deaf person. I'd love that. having been an emo teen & also being deaf. I love when they break down old ladies' doors & they offer them candy or tea & cats Ji: No, dearie, nobody else lives here, just me and my friends. KR: *looks up at all the dolls, then looks down again in deep discomfort* (ngl I love seeing him uncomfy like this. this is why i read fanfiction. i get to put characters in pain or i get to put them in comfort, either way it is cathartic.) "Yes they are" "I can't imagine" Ji: Do I look like someone who has a habit of wasting money? I—I’m on a fixed income. the dolls: *sitting on every available surface* *slowly removes a doll from behind his back* Yep, keep it in your bra babes.

I was totally expecting her to send EACH of the cops home (or at least each of the detectives home) with a doll or a small figurine

JE+KR: On it *look at each other in jinx*

castle writer moments yeah of course she would have withdrawn the-- WAIT THAT'S HOW YOU FIND & PROTECT HER

Jessie: I’ve never been questioned by cops before. You mind if I tweet about this? KR: ??? Uh, yeah, yes, we—we do mind.

I thought maybe the third woman killed them like the table of last supper electroplating sex worker story from murdoch mysteries. Maybe this third friend just woke up from a coma & used to actually be friends with them but these two friends stabbed her in the back while she was coma'd.

that was NOT typing was it? Who types like that? Is castle on the phone at the same time ?? Oh wait i'm dumb, I THOUGHT he was calling someone else but I doubted myself

Charlotte's already dead Nice angel wing Yep she be dead. NOPE SHE'S ALIVE what if it was suicide?

KB: So, what, you’re Prince Charming now? RC: Well, if the shoe fits obv the 4th is the killer but who are they? SEE I TOLD YOU 50605 the killer really does have a psychological motivation

Ooh I love photograph nerds oof welp he def can't be the killer but-- hold on, 6th of may 2005? in USA speak that's 05/06/05! (in normal speak it's 6/05/'05). I'm guessing the police report is about his death? Those three did smth to get him killed? I didn't know ikwydls was from 97, I got ads for it on youtube, must have been a remake. I was actually thinking of that.

I still think she did it, it was a spree-murder-suicide. Where are her injection marks? Girl don't mix drugs if u don't know what u'r doing Yeah b'y they were kids with a lot to lose Maybe he never intended for you to live & just thought he could get money out of it at the same time

You know I want an adhd killer/victim who can't be tracked bc they keep forgetting to put the money in the bank, or castle thinks the victim is a spy bc they keep losing their toothbrush & buying new ones, I want them to say "it wasnt [adhd killer] because look at how they acted in the interview" but it's just emotional dysregulation, I want them to think "[adhd killer] never would have been able to do xyz bc they're not smart enough, they didn't even finish high school" but [adhd killer] had a hyperfixation on that thing & is really skilled at that thing, I want the ME to say "there is a bunch of drug residue on them" & then beckett assumes they were on or selling drugs but when ME runs tox "they were on a prescription dosage" Or maybe I want a busker who gets paid in cash so they think it's money laundering or smth when they're actually a fiddler.

Called it. husband that the sister brought in.

(ryan always gets played off as the feminine one but he is not necessarily, his voice gets so deep sometimes but in such a way it gives me gender envy, his voice seems to have a wider range of speaking voice than esposito but because of this sometimes I can't tell which one is talking)

Ok he's lying? Yeah he did it wait... he only blackmailed & didn't killl...

yo always get a lawyer y'all, don't ever talk to cops. I THOUGHT IT COULD HAVE BEEN THE SISTER, I KNEW IT. Or no, the way she's scting, it's too much to be an act. (I say knowing this is fiction.) why is nobody breaking up this fight? Maybe bc they hate him maybe bc she's a girl (& apparently teachers are told to break up fights between boys but not get between girls)

KB: Don’t underestimate him. I mean, the only reason that he copped to the blackmail was to avoid murder charges. And like any psychopath, he’s a great actor. Oh, speaking of… RC: Psychopaths or actors? KB: I was thinking about your mom. RC: Oh, so a little of both. KB: I think we can make the play. RC: Really? So you want to venture into the dark, scary woods? KB: Don’t worry, Castle. I got a gun. I’ll protect you from the Big Bad Wolf. RC: You’d use your gun on my mother? KB: RC: I’m touched. Thank you. KB:

Slip-on shoes are the way to go

What bow? Whose bow?

Was it her? Can't be her I already ruled that out. Where was she injected? Unless it wasn't a suicide attempt but just an overdose to get the cops' eyes off her She is getting teary but not crying bc she's faking & she just Can't Quite Cry whut that makes very little sense tbh Why would you kill two more ppl if you're trying to save your life? I mean unless u got away with it by successfully playing the victim She's literally in the hospital

What the fudge I love the way ryan is walking backwards, point for the adhd headcanon (gosh has roofing taught me nothing? Even in the kitchen I walk backwards) Wow sappy af. (I love the way rysposito look at each other) what's castle got there? a recording device to prove beckett is actually a softie? Little peace sign up there

"Hey I'm right here" The role of a mother <3 *living in his house* *holds his hand*

Ok so I think I like watching it first bc I can write my theories without forgetting them but it might be shorter if I watch it first & then I always notice stuff more the second time through & I can make note of that stuff for future reference when I know it doesn't make sense

I also realize that I probably should have skipped a few episodes so I'm not watching the same one twice in one day but rather have some time in between. idk when mum is coming home so maybe I can watch another one but from way later in the season. Probably not tho since it will take MORE than half an hour.

I do think that maybe it will let me SHUT UP during the show or it will make me overly talkative once I know how it works. Maybe I'll just keep my mouth shut bc I don't feel the need to share my theories or I'll be afraid of spoiling so I'll actually be quiet for once

[alteredphoenix]

Don’t You Ever Stop (’Cause I Want Every Little Bit of You)(WIP)(That Modern AU Veleanor Series I Keep Telling Myself To Get Back To)

CW // slight NSFW-ish

A/N: This is an excerpt for another entry in the Veleanor Modern AU a’la An Exercise in Futility series that’s set a little earlier before all the other stories happen. It was originally written for Tales of Femslash 2021 but given how slow and meticulous I am with my craft it was never going to make it on time; and, well, to be quite honest I don’t remember if it was intended for it. I think so, if I kick my noggin hard enough.

The title comes from the song “Porno” by MELTNET which samples “Ev’ry Little Bit” by Millie Scott...and I dreaded looking that up on YouTube simply because of (a) the title alone, (b) it’s YouTube, it’s going to be unfiltered no matter how many systems they put in place, (c) I’m honestly really not that keen on NSFW content unless it’s something I’m reading because, you know, it’s reading and I have to get better at this stuff somehow, and (d) I’ve had a problem with bots that I’ve had to insta-block the moment I see them on my notifications.

Unfortunately this isn’t a PWP fic that this excerpt would lead you to believe. But I always did like tossing my readers a bone...occasionally, and if it’s Veleanor, then who am I to resist?

-

Pendrago.

Population: Nine point two million souls.

It’s Friday night on the cusp of summer, half-moon hanging high and all the stars are out.

For all intents and purposes, at this very moment, Velvet Crowe is about to get laid.

“Stop...teasing me...already...and get it over with,” she pants hotly, and puts all her strength into bucking her crotch up right into Eleanor’s face. “Come onnnnn. What...What are you waiting for?”

Despite having her legs draped over her shoulders and most of her weight pressed down by the body on top of her, she barely gains any traction except the brief squash Eleanor’s cheeks take on when her thigh brushes up against them. Eleanor has her locked down, one hand whose nails are snug deep and comfortably over one leg and the other on the sloping V of her pubis (OPEN WIDE, HERE COMES THE AIRPLANE, BWEEEEEEERNNNNNNN! Magilou’s voice screeches from the hallmarks of memory, and Velvet swears to every eidolon and Empyrean beneath the sun the next time she sees her she’s going to strangle her). That hand is lightly brushing its fingers back and forth over the hairs that are beginning to grow back in; Velvet doesn’t need a good view of it to know how tantalizing she’s making it look, and how utterly naked and dominated she is beneath her.

Eleanor laughs, soft and quiet that vibrates against her skin and rides the lightning straight to her core. “Mmm...nothing. Just waiting for the right moment before I work my magic.”

Velvet scowls. “...Magic? Are you fucking kidding me? You cuffed me to the bed and stripped me down head to toe with your bare teeth.” She wrests her wrists, which are bound above her head, for clinking emphasis. “How much more magic are you going to perform before you decide to rail me?”

“Oh but Velvet, I already have you under my spell--”

“No shit!”

“--but are you sure you’re ready for this? This isn’t just some tuppenny magic, Velvet. Once it’s done, it’s done. There’s no going back, for you and for me.” She turns her head and ghosts her mouth over the flesh of her inner thigh in a kiss that makes Velvet’s muscles shudder and pang. “Is this what you want?”

Velvet sighs and tilts her head back against the headboard, closes her eyes a moment to let them roll and crest the pleasure going through her. When she comes down, she looks at Eleanor. Really looks at her: there are muscles in her arms that she should’ve noticed but somehow, by inattention or lack of memory, eluded her until now. Not quite big guns, but big enough to carry the bulk of her weight up through the air, the same way she used to when she pole-vaulted in high school. And her back---and Velvet has to stop herself from licking her lips from the saliva that’s starting to pool—is as strong and firm as the etch of abdominal muscles pressed flush against the mattress, her deltoids and trapezius muscles flexing the butterfly wings to their fullest prominence. She’s glistening with sweat as much as she is that the fan on the highest setting can’t quite cool, but by the time Velvet remembered to throw on the A/Cs she was too busy flinging off Eleanor’s clothes all over the hallway and shoving her tongue down her throat to even care.

Her hair catches the lamplight, making it red like a phoenix’s tail, like the pictures Velvet used to see in the old mythology textbooks at school. She had it trimmed at a salon not too long ago, and already it’s growing in the places where the dead ends used to be: splayed across the butterfly jut of her back and plastered with heat. Velvet only wishes she weren’t strung up like a pig on a spit so she could card her fingers through it, wrap it around her fists, hold it aloft and marvel it striking stark against her own dark mane as she stroked her, licked her, marked her, meshed their bodies together as one and brought her to such heights that the ability to speak would escape her. She would be completely and utterly hers. Their hearts would beat as one.

Seeing her front and center, with her head bent low right where she’s breathing hotly right onto her, Velvet wonders how much—or perhaps the better question would be, how fast or how slow—Eleanor can reduce her to an incoherent, mewling mess.

It makes her heart trip.

“Yeah,” Velvet says, and there flares a fresh wave of heat that has nothing to do with the weather. The drunken, heavy-eyed grin she tries to restrain from pushing through the stoic facade she’s putting up does so anyway. “Yeah. I want this. I’ve wanted this...you...for a long, long time. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just...didn’t know how to say it.”

Eleanor lays her cheek upon one thigh, and the look she gives her is so affectionate and soulful it motivates Velvet to ease back as far as the handcuffs will go and relax. “You mean it?” She asks.

“Yeah. I mean it. Wouldn’t have made the first move if I didn’t. I almost had you there, you know.”

“Hmph. You let me.”

“You got lucky.”

“I sure did.”

“...Yeah. You sure did. And you also told me how good you are with your hands. Now show me how good you are with that pretty little mouth of yours. I wanna see some of that Hume brand magic in action.”

Eleanor looks at her, jaw dropping. Velvet grins wickedly.

Then she smirks, stops messing around with her hand and grabs hold of Velvet’s other leg that’s so far been resting comfortably over her neck. “Well,” she croons, “if you insist….” She tightens her grip and pulls Velvet forward until she’s practically fit snug between her thighs.

She puts her mouth on her.

The world explodes and Velvet’s vision goes blindingly white.

[redhatmeg]

My idea for meeting between Splinter and Sliver

Since the idea of meeting of Sliver and Splinter can’t leave me, I decided to read the origin story of Super Turtles (in Tales of TMNT #47) to get inspiration for fanfiction I may or may not write.

So in the comics Super Turtles were created by Doctor Shredderus as part of a project to create an animal army to battle alien invasion. They were, however, meant to be his personal soldiers in case the government would turn against them. Due to the freaky accident Super Turtles got their powers, Doctor Shredderus was disfigured and Sliver gained intelliegence, while licking his injuries. Sliver was training Super Turtles in secret to fight “aliens” and other monsters created by Shredderus to be Shredderus’ ultimate weapon. Over time they learned that the invasion was a hoax and they decided to expose Shredderus. However, Sliver remained loyal to him until the end.

Now, I would borrow some of this origin, like Doctor Shredderus creating a whole animal army, including Super Turtles, however, I would make Sliver and Super Turtles turn against him and run away from his lab. Super Turtles would perform some heroic deeds and be lauded as heroes by the public, but Sliver would feel disdain for humanity - partly because he was treated badly by humans all his life for being a rat, and partly because he considers himself and Super Turtles as a next step of the evolution.

So in Reality Check Super Turtles and Mikey caused Sliver’s bomb to explode inside of his tower (instead of the rest of the world). How about Sliver not only survived the ordeal, but also got transported to different dimension and ended up in the sewers? Now, he’s pissed off because his sons basically committed patricide to save humans, and he’s lost. And he plans to take over this dimension - try his plan for a new world again. But this time he will also enact his revange on Michaelangelo and his brothers.

And Splinter will be the one to stop him.

[cold-foam-butterbeer]

Prince of Hell (HP x HH)

Authors Note: Hello and welcome to my Harry Potter x Hazbin Hotel crossover fanfiction, to start of this will be a somewhat happy story with elements of drama, colorful language, sexual innuendos, abuse, and angst but of course it will have fluff, family, and comfort added to the mix. I wrote this because I read a fanfic by Gamer95 about Charlie and Vaggie being a mother to Harry so this is my own take on that premise. This will be my first chapter story so bear with me if my writing is slow. All right then enjoy the first chapter of this tale.

Chapter 1: An Untimely Demise

We start our tale in a small town in England called Little Whinging in the county of surrey on a street named Privet Drive with houses identical and parallel to each other there lies a dark secret in the Number 4 house.

Harry Potter was no means a happy child, at 7 years old he was miserable, unloved and unwanted. His aunt, uncle and cousin hated him with a passion, and they have no hesitation in showing it, being bullied by Dudley and his peers, his Aunt Petunia yelling, and the worst one of all was Uncle Vernon who had taken it upon himself to “discipline” Harry when he did anything wrong with the god-awful number of chores he did or when he did the “freaky” stuff which earned him the nickname “Freak”.

Where were his parents you ask? “Your mother and father died in car crash!!” Yelled Uncle Vernon and Petunia albeit he asked on two separate occasions and got the same answer for each one.

Despite these circumstances, Harry always had hope that everything will get better, he will get away from his Uncle, Aunt, and Cousin.

“everything will get better” thought Harry he always yearned for a life where he could be happy and loved.

Unfortunately, things would take a dark turn on that faithful day of July 12, XXXX.

                                                        0v0

Uncle Vernon wasn’t having a good day so much so he kept muttering curse words while walking and his reddish-purple disposition did not help in easing the looks people were giving him as he trudged on the London sidewalk.

“Fucking...sponsor…not up to standards my foot…Ill show him…” muttered Uncle Vernon due to a potential sponsor not liking the company standards and its work ethic.

Soon he reached a pub and while still muttering to himself he took a seat in the pub “Bartender!!!” he bellowed startling everyone and the customers next to him.

“Buddy keep your voice down, now what do you want?” asked the bartender. “whiskey on rocks” Uncle Vernon angrily muttered. “coming right up” as he poured the drink and gave it to him “hopefully he doesn’t cause any more trouble” thought the bartender.

                                                       0v0

Harry was peacefully laying in his cupboard when his digital watch that he found because it was too small to fit Dudley chimed informing him it was 9:00PM.

“I better go to sleep, I’ll probably do a lot of chores tomorrow too” thought Harry as he suddenly remembered that he needed to weed the garden tomorrow and dreaded the summer heat that the weather forecasted for tomorrow.

“I’ll probably get sunburned again” Harry thought when suddenly he heard a door flew open and startled him.

“What was that?” thought Harry then his cupboard was violently opened Uncle Vernon looking at him angrily.

“Come here boy!!!” as Harry was grabbed by the collar of his large hand me downs from Dudley “Now listen here boy.” Uncle Vernon whispered to him, Harry could smell something like the red liquid from the green bottle that his Uncle and Aunt had visitors and when he was tasked to clean the dishes.

“We are going for a ride and don’t even dare make a sound” Harry could only whimper and nod as he was dragged on to the car, Harry thought he was going in the back seat when Uncle Vernon suddenly opened the trunk and threw Harry in “remember boy not a sound” hissed Uncle Vernon as Harry was enveloped in darkness.

Harry was terrified, he couldn’t see where he was and the ride wasn’t exactly smooth, he would bang his head on the ceiling of the trunk whenever Uncle Vernon drove over a speed bump or a pothole.

“I wanna go back to my cupboard” Harry whimpered borderline ready to cry but he couldn’t, he would always get disciplined whenever he cried.

“Stop that crying boy!! the voice echoed in Harry’s mind when he cried because he got a cut when weeding the garden one time. Harry was brought out of his thoughts by screeching brakes, he just realized they have stopped moving and suddenly the trunk was opened.

“Come here boy” the walrus of a man growled and suddenly Harry was being dragged out to what seems to be a cemetery.

“Where are we?” Harry asked with dread while looking at his surroundings.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out brat” Uncle Vernon sneered, suddenly he threw Harry on the ground.

“I’m going to enjoy beating the daylights out of you boy” as he threw a punch to Harry’s stomach knocking the wind out of him.  

“It hurts I can’t breathe” thought Harry as he struggled to even get air into his lungs when he was suddenly picked up and slammed to a nearby gravestone.

“Where not even close to finish yet boy, I’ve been in a bad mood since that shitty client stood up to me and frankly I need a way to vent my anger… on you that is” said Uncle Vernon as he threw another punch to Harry’s face, his glasses broken and chipped with his cheek bruised and now sporting a black eye

“Pl-e…ase... n-o…. m-...ore” croaked Harry but Uncle Vernon didn’t listen to instead he picked up a nearby branch Harry couldn’t fight anymore, he was helpless he thought as he looked at the raised branch swinging before his eyes.

                                                       0v0

Uncle Vernon with blood on the branch and on his calloused hands looked on at Harry’s mangled body with disgust and left the cemetery.

“Stupid old coot won’t know... I drove pretty far away...” as he muttered back to his car and peeled off. Harry couldn’t move.

“It hurts everywhere” Harry tried to move but to no avail “everything will get better” he chanted but despite this mantra he felt his strength slowly leaving his body.

“I’m cold… I want my mommy and daddy” Harry sobbed as he closed his eyes tears welling up at corner of his eyes a flash of his life flashing before his eyes, his time with the Dursley’s, his time on the dark cupboard, running away from Dudley and his friends, the principal and teachers looking sad at him whenever he tried to tell them about Dudley, it was just too much his breath was fading until it was no more.

Harry Potter was dead and it would shake the human realm to the very ground Muggle and Magical.

                                                         0v0

Hell, Pentagram City – Unknown Location

Hell wasn’t always like what they have written in famous novels and in the Bible, it would have been more compared to the city of New York than a realm with 9 circles or just a fiery inferno with the damned souls climbing a rope of spider thread brought down by God.

“Well some of those things did happen at one point during my reign here” an unknown figure mused in his seat while swirling a golden chalice filled with red wine and a cane shaped like a snake with a ruby shaped like an apple place at the top.

“Give me this week’s new inhabitants” snapped the fingers of the individual.  

“Yes, my lord” a female demon with claws that are as long as tree branches wearing a skin tight body suit with white lines on the calf part vanished and suddenly reappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Here you are my lord” as she handed over a clipboard what appears to be a list of individuals.

“Hmm just serial killers, corrupt politicians and riff raff” he lazily flipped through the pages until he caught on to a certain name:

Harry Potter – Age 7, Death by murder by Vernon Dursley.

“Well well the wizarding world’s savior has died” he grinned this is perfect a diamond in the rough he thought.

“I need to get him down here but how?” As he set down the chalice “Give me everything you know about Harry Potter now!” he yelled.

“Yes, my lord” the demoness disappeared “Here you are my lord” as she handed him a red folder.

“be gone with you, I have important business to attend to” with that order she left the room without a word.

“Now let’s see what I can exploit resulting your death Harry Potter” he grinned maniacally “7 years old, Son of Lily and James, no…. how about injuries… *flip* broken bones... how about magical injuries… hit with the killing curse by Lord Voldemort… perfect… let’s put your pathetic mistake to use Tom” as he grabbed an ornate knife made of silver with rubies dotted at the handle and carved an intricate casting circle on the floor.

“ Let’s send your soul down to Hell Tom only thing is it will have a little passenger in for the ride” as he cut his hand and drops of blood dropped to casting circle and with a few second it crackled with red and green energy.

“The blood has been paid… the ritual is set… bring forth my heir into my Dominion of Death!!!” as he slammed his cane into the ground followed by an intense light of red enveloping the chamber where he stood. “I’ll see you soon Harry Potter” he laughed menacingly in to the crimson brimmed sky of Hell.

                                                        0v0

Harry was feeling strange, he was floating in what seemed to be like clouds and it was so bright and he saw something falling.

“Feathers?” he thought and he could have sworn he heard singing then a thought came across Harry he had watched a religious documentary during the Holidays and he learned about Heaven where all the good people go when they die. “

I’m in heaven?” questioned harry “I can see my mommy and daddy now…” he bit back a sob when suddenly his scar started hurting.

“Ahhhggg!” Harry groaned in agony his scar feels like it’s being burned and ripped open at the same time. The pain caused harry to faint and suddenly his body was falling nowhere to be found into the dark abyss.

                                                        0v0

Hell, Pentagram City – Back alley

Harry was feeling nauseous and his head hurts as he opened his eyes, it was all red and blurry.

“Where are my glasses” he squinted trying to find them until he found it next to him on the floor.

“There” as he put on his glasses clutching his head and trying to make sense of what happened.

“Where am I?” as he looked with confusion and fear as his checked his surroundings he was in an alleyway there were no white clouds, it was dark and red as he looked up into the sky it was a dark crimson with a star shaped symbol far as the eye can see.

“Where is this? Harry quivered as he tried to get up and get out of the alleyway.

“This place is scary” as Harry was walking actively avoiding the “monsters” and looking small when he suddenly fell in to ground.

“Move it pipsqueak” a big monster that looks like a cross between a boar and a shark wearing a black t shirt ripped at the sleeves and has a multitude of tattoos with distinctive patterns. Harry slowly picked himself up and continued walking until he saw a group of the creatures drinking from a bottle, slowly Harry walked up to them.

“Excuse me…” as Harry said this the group stopped drinking and eyed Harry with annoyance. “Where am I?” Harry shivered.

“Where the fuck do ya think you are dipshit??” one of the monsters with tentacles for hands snapped at him this cause Harry to shrink back and flinch.

“This is heaven… right? The beasts looked at each other and then laughed.

“Kid does this look like fucking heaven to you? Just because you transformed into a kid doesn’t even you have to be this fucking stupid! One of them said.

“But… I am a kid…. I’m 7 years old…” Harry whimpered.

“What the fuck?! You’re 7 years old? And you got sent to here to Hell?! Asked the demon in disbelief.

“Hell?... this isn’t heaven…” Harry’s blood ran cold.

The creatures laughed “Welcome to Hell kid” A demon with large claws and fangs approached him.

“You know you’ll do nicely as a punching bag or toy” Harry was beyond horrified now as he tried to run but was ultimately grabbed by the squid demon.

“Nuh uh, You are going to fetch us a high price kid! Maybe we’ll even get a shot at screwing Angel Dust” He grinned.

“No please! I’m sorry just let me go! I just want… Mmph! Harry cried as he was gagged by the tentacles of the beast

“Shut the fuck up boy! Or you’ll gonna have to feel these” the demon rubbed his claws to Harry’s cheek who bit back from crying but tears were still streaming from his eyes and was already walking with Harry still gagged.

“Why is this happening to me” Harry thought “I just want to be happy, I just want to be with my mommy and daddy.”

Harry’s emotions were all over the place fear, sadness, guilt but he had this buzzing in the back of his head something that was replacing all his fear, and sadness then everything came back to him, the Dursleys, the discipline, the beatings, not giving him any food it all came crashing down and at that moment Harry felt pure unadulterated anger and rage.

“Oh man were gonna nail Angel Dust after this and were gonna be… AGHHHH!” the demon screamed and looking at his dismembered tentacles he dropped Harry to the ground.

“You are gonna fucking pay for that you shitty brat” He yelled as he brandished a knife suddenly Harry stood up black smoke covering his body then disappeared all at once revealing his body with claws meant for ripping flesh, fangs long and sharp akin to a Viper, and his eyes were sporting a black sclera, iris and cornea an acidic green and his pupil instead of a round shape it was replaced by a slit.

“This kid can do a full demon transformation?!” one of the demons yelled. “He’s just a kid come on we can take him!” the clawed demon said to them and suddenly pounced when Harry suddenly disappeared and reappeared next to the demon biting his neck full force.

“ARRGHH fucking brat bit me! Get him off!!!” he trashed “he fucking poisoned me!!!, Get him the fuck off!!!” The demon suddenly fell into a heap then Harry looked at the other two demons baring his fangs “Fuck man let’s get out of here!!” as both of them ran towards a nearby alley but when suddenly they were pinned down by Harry

“He is so fucking strong what the fuck” the tentacled demon yelled.

“Die” Harry muttered he brought his clawed hands down on them and screams of agony and pain were both heard that night.

                                                          0v0

“Fucking finally this shit’s over, I’m never gonna do a double shift again” groaned Angel Dust as he left Porn Studios.

“Hmm… should I swing by the hotel or back to my apartment?” He pondered when he suddenly heard pained screaming in the alley.

“Screaming happens often here but that was too painful for it to be considered normal” as he cocked a revolver and pistol with both of his hands and cautiously made his way to the alley.

Harry was in a daze, he didn’t know what happened after he was dragged away by the monsters.

“Where am I” he said groggily putting a hand on his forehead when he felt something sticky and warm on his hands.

“What is this!” yelped Harry. “Is this blood…” he was scared then he suddenly went sick when he saw the murdered bodies of the demons who gagged him, blood everywhere, internal organs peeking out.

“What happened” then terrible thought passes Harry “Did I do this….” He was beyond sick but he was broken in his inner thoughts.

“Freeze! put yer hands up!” Angel yelled. “Woah what the fuck happened here!” Angel was shocked at the carnage before him but was even more shocked at the trembling form of Harry with blood on his hands and face.

“Kid? did you do this?” Asked Angel in disbelief that a kid can do something like this “Are you even a kid or just a really small demon?” Harry was confused and scared when he looked at the things the pink monster was holding then the creature started walking up to him then with a sudden rush of adrenaline Harry bolted out of the alley way.

“Woah wait up!  And he’s gone, fantastic” Angel hid his guns and stared at the sky “How can a kid fucking murder a bunch of demons 5 times bigger than him?” Angel scratched his head then with a groan. “Maybe I should go to the hotel… The princess might know somethin” Angel contemplated as he started walking to the Happy Hotel.

Notes: That’s a wrap guys, so just a bunch of world building here and there and our saviour has met Hell’s most popular porn star. To clarify things I haven’t made this timeline canon to the Wizarding universe since it contradicts some of the characters deaths like Vaggie so I trashed that all together. Expect in the next chapter Harry will meet Charlie. Anyways I’ll try to keep updating ASAP until then see you next time! Peace :3

[musings-of-a-rose]

Clint (Freaky Tales) Masterlist

*=indicates smut or eventual smut (see fic warnings for details)

One Shots:

A New Life*

Series Masterlists:

Coming Soon

[boliv-jenta]

I've had a lot going on lately, so reading and writing took a back seat.

I wrote a few little bits this week.

Confession a Javier Peña drabble

The Dance a Clint x f!reader fic

And a Joel Miller cooking drabble.

I read Take Your Time a DinCobb fic by @ghostofaboy

I'm a little behind on my tag games because I'm overwhelmed, but I appreciate them all the same.

@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007 @vabeachazn @quicax3

[ao3feed-stucky]

by SenselessCatharsis

A podcast by trans and queer artists reading fanfiction and discussion fandom, sexuality and more.

“Bucky doesn't mean to get involved in the altercation. He doesn't /want/ to get involved in the altercation, especially when his ex is involved and he looks like a well-fucked mess.

Bucky doesn't always get what he wants, however, but at least the not-especially-grateful guy he rescued is cute”

Whole audio- 2hr, 5min | Story reading- 1hr, 18min

Words: 134, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 5 of Freaky Tales for You

Fandoms: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Clint Barton

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Queer Themes, Friends With Benefits, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Podcast, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 1.5-2 Hours, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

@milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

@burntheedges Joel Hearts / Frankie Is This a Date?

@beskarandblasters Joel As Long As I Have You + The Warmth of Your Gaze, The Lingering of Your Touch / Frankie Watch the World From the Sidelines

@wardenparker @absurdthirst Joel For Valentine’s Day / Dieter “I'm not getting you coffee, your order is ridiculous".

@flightlessangelwings Joel Could I Have This Kiss Forever? / Din What Was Unspoken, And What We Finally Said

@eupheme Joel Are You Mine?

@missredherring Joel A Flower in February

@whatsnewalycat Joel Ruthless

@firstofficerwiggles Din A Beskar Valentine

@lowlights Din Recalibration

@dindjarindiaries Din Your Needs, My Needs

@saradika Din Beneath the Mask

@haylzcyon Din Fell in Love With the Fire

@undercoverpena Frankie Wet n’ Wild / Din Cold, Lips Blue

@absurdthirst @storiesofthefandomlovers Frankie The Cupid Shuffle

@toomanystoriessolittletime Frankie Fucked Royalty

@tieronecrush Frankie BNBG (brand new baby girl)

@musings-of-a-rose Clint A New Life

@ezrasbirdie Dieter Bright Lights

@tightjeansjavi Dieter Tea Party + Chamomile

@psychedelic-ink Dieter + Javi G Amour Amour Amour / Joel A Happy Man / Marcus P The Louvre

@secretelephanttattoo Marcus P Confetti

@movievillainess721 Whiskey Watermelon Moonshine

@morallyinept Marcus M Heyday Hero – A Valentine’s Story  / Dieter A Cup of Love

@sirowsky Marcus M An Unexpected Valentine

@something-tofightfor SNL Wing Pit Second and Goal 

[fuckyeahshadesmariah]

Villain 4 Villain

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Uqin30

by SenselessCatharsis

A podcast by trans and queer artists reading fanfiction and discussion fandom, sexuality and more.

“Mariah rewards shades for this good work”

Whole audio- 59min, story reading- 13min

Words: 130, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Freaky Tales for You

Fandoms: Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Shades Alvarez, Mariah Dillard

Relationships: Shades Alvarez/Mariah Dillard

Additional Tags: Femdom, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Light BDSM, Interracial Relationship, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Podfic Length: 45-60 Minutes

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Uqin30

[ao3feed--kylux]

Suck Wars

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2J7DnXa

by SenselessCatharsis

A podcast by trans, queer artists reading fanfiction and discussing. This episode is all about Star Wars' Hux and Kylo Ren.

"Hux comes to terms with the fact that he, the most powerful General in the First Order, really loves sucking cock."

Whole audio- 52min, Story reading- 23min. Time markers in summary.

Words: 121, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Freaky Tales for You

Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren

Additional Tags: Blow Jobs, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Dirty Talk, Shame kink, Size Kink, Verbal Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 20-30 Minutes, Podfic Length: 45-60 Minutes

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2J7DnXa