#gordan merkel x reader angst

[emmyrosee]

Staying.

On The Run II

Part One.

This most certainly isn’t timely; hell, I doubt there’s any interest for this story anymore; but after writing it, scraping it, writing it and scraping it and finally getting it? I don’t care what you guys want, I’m happy 🥰

This certainly isn’t the most fun chapter, but boy HOWDY I was excited when I saw all my dots connect and UGH I’m pumped😂❤️

WARNINGS: verbal fighting, language

Gordan Merkel x Fugitive!Reader; after a series of unfortunate events lands you in East Berlin, you fear almost everyone and everything that lands in your path. And it forces you to cross with a stranger who takes a risk on you.

---------

“I’m sorry it’s nothing fancy.”

You can’t help but find some humorous comfort in the words. Gordan’s small home definitely wasn’t anything fancy. Two bedrooms, one full bathroom with a small half in the hallway. The kitchen was standard, present as soon as you walk past the frame of the front door.

You clutched the blanket around your shoulders tighter as your eyes scan the room thoroughly. Some art work decorated the light brown walls, curtains drawn tight. It wasn’t exactly in the city, a small cel de sac in which houses were spread along the curve. According to Gordan, the lovely people who lived there were more than happy to either assist him or become part of the rebellion, so while hiding you would be mandatory, being heard would only be concerning if they caught your face.

Allegedly.

Woods decorated the backyard and seemed to stretch for miles, and the sun raising was no match for the branches.

It seemed fine, small and sweet as it stays happily in the ground. You most certainly are ready to regrow your clipped wings and sleep on a bed, with lamps and blankets and windows with golden sunlight to peek through them.

That is, until Gordan guides you gently to The Room.

Hidden only by the back of a reclining chair, The Room is a small cubby-like hole, dropping down to a five-foot tall landing. The small opening is a perfect square, and the short stool just under it seems large in comparison to just how little of room there is to spare.

Boxes of liquor and crates of naught magazines take up even more room, and in the corner, a pile of blankets and a single pillow on top of a twin mattress. There’s a small pile of empty water bottles and discarded wrappers of German junk food that litter the already messy hole, and you can barely make out the small lamp and curtain drawn window against the wall.

“It’s not exactly the most spacious or comfortable room,” Gordan sighs, staring in the dark room. “But my rebels, they use the it as well. It’s never failed me before.”

Your eyes fixate on the small space, wondering silently as to how many rebels were in this port before. Gordan smiles, “it’s a lot bigger than it looks. And it’s only for a couple hours a day. When I get back home, assuring everything is shut, I will be able to let you out.”

Your eyes drift over at Gordan, who’s smiling face is focused on the Room. He holds an expression of relief, and while you can’t pinpoint your feelings, a certain calmness washes over you as well.

He seemed to have that effect on people- hell, he was able to ground you after being so skittish for three years. His whole aura was full of protection, and you couldn’t help but relish in this new feeling.

This was going to work.

—

The first few days were fine.

From 6:30 am, to 8:30 pm, Gordan was out at work. When he comes home, he doesn’t talk much about his day, though he pours you both a glass of wine and starts to make dinner before scurrying off to bed. You’re allowed to walk around when he’s home, but when he goes to bed, you’re only allowed three hours to completely get your “freedom” fix.

Television volume can only be one-fourth of the way up, and make sure the stereo is turned all the way down before playing.

Fridge is open to anything, as is the library and shower, and it all just worked.

And just as it started to come together, you could feel it slowly slipping apart.

Gordan had been staying later and later, cooking less and less and being unable to buy more and more groceries. The Room locked from the outside, though he left a lock-picking-Kit in case of any emergencies. The window creates some light, same with the lamp, but they’re so dim, what’s the point.

He’s given you books to read, mainly about Sweden and the culture and language, you assume it’s sorta like a last resort.

But you can only read for so long.

You can only count the marks on your face and deal with the flicking of the lamp, and draw shapes in the water-stains on the window for so long.

More often than not, you just end up sleeping.

Or, sort of sleeping? It’s hard to tell anymore, you think you’re asleep with how dark it is, but sometimes your muscle jerks and you think “hey, that’s never woken me up before” only to the repeat the cycle. Before, the scary shapes your imagination would try to pain through the darkness would scare you. Now they’re you’re friends, and you feel your heart shatter when they leave.

At least when you were on the run, you had endless space... here, you’re not quite sure what you have.

You just know it’s not nearly enough.

You feel you’re homesickness transform from your home and family, to the streets.

Little did Gordan know just how bad you wanted to go back.

———

You’re not quite sure when you dozed back off.

You must’ve as a loud clomp! makes your eyes fly open, only to slowly fall back shut.

Then to fly back open as the sound of thick, heavy boot-steps pound on the floor in front of the room, and after a loud screech of furniture moving, the lock to the door clicks open, head spinning wildly at the noise. Your eyes fall to the dim alarm clock.

11:42.

At night? Had you honestly been left alone for 16 hours? Left to nothing but sleep and count hair follicles on your arms?

There’s an immense, sudden flood of light that clouds your vision, and in the middle of it was Gordan Merkel. The first part of you is washed with relief, it’s just him and not the authorities as he could’ve easily given you away.

The second part of you? Rage.

“My sincerest apologies,” he says immediately, watching cautiously as you crawl out of the room. “I had to stay late, make some adjustments to files and shit. What can I get you? Are you hungry?”

With each excuse and word that Gordan says, your arms tighten over your chest, and tears sting the back of your eyes.

“Please?” He continues, “I’ll make some dinner and-“

“You’re unbelievable!” You shout, storming out of the room. Gordan’s eyes widen as he shushes you, waving his hands to quell your anger.

“I can explain-“

“I am not some fucking dog!” You scream.

“Please do not yell, we can’t stir suspicion-“

“Fuck your suspicion! You cannot leave me for hours on end with no food, no water, a crappy sense of time, what kind of monster are you!”

“There were issues at work I had to resolve,” Gordan says firmly, gripping your biceps. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

“I don’t have to trust you with anything,” you hiss. You flick yourself away in anger, and Gordan pushes the fallen strands of his gelled hair back, his face holding venom so powerful, you feel sick. It sends a chill through you, and as much as you hate him, you know he’s in control.

“People who actually have to stay here, stay quite and keep to themselves. You think I like having to hide a fugitive such as yourself in my house, putting both of us in extreme goddamned danger? Do you not understand the risk I am taking for you?”

You freeze, and your heart stops. Of course you knew what a risk he was taking. Anyone associated with hiding you could be in jail themselves, but was supporting him really worth being treated like an animal?

“Y-yes, Mr Merkel,” you whimper, looking at your feet.

Evidently, yes.

Gordan takes a stride towards you, eyes still firm and authoritative. “I promised you safety, and safety is what I give you. If you are truly unhappy with my methods, you do not have to stay. Make my life safer. One less tally of suspense on my back.”

Your heart stops as if Gordan held the button to make it cease, and he just pressed it. You knew you wanted to stay, it was warmer and more assuring than outside. It was better. Gordan was nice to you, this much you knew for sure. You’d been lying to yourself, the streets were scary, you never wanted to go back.

You shrink back from him, slowly turning on your heel to blink and dab at the tears burning your sleepless, aching eyes.

You hate him. You hate him you hate him you fucking hate him. You hate this control he holds over you. You hate this twisted freedom-hostage situation. Of course you can leave anytime. You know he’s not going to stop you, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.

Against your own will, a tight, nearly silent sob squeaks through your trembling lips, and behind you, you hear Gordan sigh.

“Look at me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want you to cry, look at me.”

Slowly, your shaking frame turns to face him, and as you see his softened, easy face, another sob catches your throat. He crouches to meet your gaze, and when you try to look away, he tips your chin to look at him.

“Listen to me,” he says, low and firm. “I want you to be safe, alright? Your being here makes me feel like I have a control of you being alright. I don’t know what they’ll do to you if those morons find you- what I do know is when you’re here, yes, I might be late, but you’re here. And the plan is just one day closer. Do you understand me?”

You blink up at him and say nothing, a thick, hot tear slipping down your warmed cheek. He wipes it away with his knuckle, clearly unable to see how he hurt you. “But, if I’m going to keep you as safe as I can, I have to make it seem like nothing has changed. If I make anything questionable, rumors will fly. And I cannot lie to my rebels. So,” he gently grips your chin in his hand. “For now, I need you to just trust me, alright?”

Your eyes avoid his, and you gently nod your head in understanding. Gordan sighs and pushes himself up, “as long as the curtains stay closed, feel free to roam.” He rolls up his sleeves and gently walks down the hall, leaving you and your spinning head alone in the darkened living room.

Another weak, pathetic sob rips through you, and with nothing better to do, you climb back into the room, easing the door shut, part of you secretly hoping that Gordan would forget you.

Forget you, your crimes, and everything in between.

------

OTR taglist (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed)❤

@hecohansen31​

@youaremyfamiliar​

@shyvirgoanon​

@kathryn-jane​​

@billofourtime​

@little-grunge-flowerz​

@bethskarsgard​

[emmyrosee]

could you write something with bills characters reacting to him finding out that that your jealous of your best friend being in love, meanwhile he’s been there the whole time secretly being in love with you...

Break my heart why dontcha 🥺❤️

———

Axel was always pretty open with his feelings for you; while you never took them to heart, the constant ‘dates’ he would take you on meant something to him, and he wasn’t about to act like the didn’t.

But it didn’t matter to you. You saw it as nothing more. And Axel wasn’t going to force it to be anything more😔

Gordan goes through hell and high water to be there for you. Battles gods and monsters to keep you, the light of his life, separated from the absolute madness that is Gordan Merkel. His love for you, his adoration isn’t open and clear, but it is there.

And maybe that’s why it’s best if you don’t know his feelings. Maybe it’s best that you get mad at the circumstances and just let his heartbreak heal😞

Henry Pearl.. “the best boyfriend you’ve never had.” He’s your best friend, your confidant, your man, he’s so close to you that you can’t even tell the absolute love he has for you, how painfully, deeply, sickeningly in love with you he is.

But if it keeps you in his life... he’s not going to risk making it anything more😣

Mark doesn’t fall for anyone. Love is nothing more than this stupid excuse to waste money and time and emotions. It’s all superficial and bullshit to mark, and when you get hurt from all of your friends getting together, Mark is on your side, spending all his time getting you drunk and high, anything to numb the pain of heartbreak.

But what you fail to see is that your Mark’s exception to his ‘Fuck Love’ rule. Like hell he’s going to let you find out either😒

Mickey... the exact opposite of mark. He falls for everyone, it hurts. But you’re different. You know how he feels about you, but you’re unaware of the extent that he so clearly tries to show you. When you complain about never finding love, all mickey wants to do is hold you, smother you in kisses and confess his feelings.

But he never will. Because that’s not what you really need. He’s not what you really need😣

Roman knows better than to let anyone in his cold, dark heart. Everyone who does ends up destroyed. But not you. He won’t let it happen to you.

Fucking Roman nightly just to feel something, some form of relief from this hatred of yourself and love, only to then cum messily and cry as you polish off a cigarette next to him... it’s all he can safely offer you.

Being heart broken and used is better than being dead😖

On a lighter note The Kid has not one ounce of shame to just curl up in your lap and smother you in all the affections and sweet words he can offer. He admits his love for you on the daily, meaning every vowel that passes his pretty lips.

If you choose not to believe him... that’s on you.

[emmyrosee]

imagine merkel sneaking to your apartment in the wee hours of the morning because he saw something traumatic at his job and just NEEDS to be loved on, but doesn't know how to ask for it, so he just drops to his knees and grabs at your legs for dear life. (even tough daddies have to crack sometime, right?)

AWWWWW I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS!!!!😩😩

(And sometimes, they do. They need to cry, too🥺)

————-

The gentle knock on your door was enough to rouse you from your sleep, the chilled floor nipping your feet as punishment for waking up. You truly had no clue who it could be at this hour, let alone to knock as quietly as they did.

If it was an emergency, they would’ve knocked harder. If it wasn’t, it could’ve waited until morning.

You slowly padded towards the door, knuckling your eye as you peer through the peephole. Your brows shoot up in surprise as your brain confirms that it’s Gordan, your boyfriend. He’d been so busy with work that you hadn’t expected to see him until the end of the week.

You unlock the door and quickly open it, the disheveled man in front of you barely flinching. “Gord-“

You don’t get to finish your sentence before he practically flops into your home, relying on you to catch him. “Gordan!”

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers numbly. “Please, darling, never.”

“Gordan,” you say more sternly, hugging him tightly. “What is going on? What happened?”

He says nothing but weakly turns in your arms to look at you, eyes tracing your features as if to memorize them. His cold hand comes up to hook your hair behind your ear, back hunched so tightly you wonder how he’s able to stand.

“Gordan, please,” you whisper, anxiety filling your chest. “Talk to me. What is going on. Let me help you, please.”

“I love you,” he says softly. The anxious feeling doesn’t falter at his words, only grow at them.

It’s not like him to be this affectionate.

“Gordan, I love you, too,” you soothe, reaching to card his hair. “But please, what happened?”

He continues to say nothing. His exhausted eyes stay focused on you, unable to pull away. You sigh, “I’m going to go lock the door, okay? You stay here, okay?”

Gordan nods and slowly stands up, knees weak under him. You slowly inch away from his grip and lock your door, the cool paint making you shiver awake. You decide it better to get back to Gordan, so you quickly spin on your heel and place your hand on his back. He nods his head in your direction, blinking weakly when you smile at him.

“Come on, handsome,” you whisper. “Let’s get you in bed.” Gordan shuffles weakly under your soft push, making his way to your bedroom. When he reaches the familiar room, he flops on the bed, easily taking up the whole space. “Gordan,” you whisper. “We gotta get you into something more comfortable-”

“‘M fine,” he murmurs. You rub your eyes in frustration and sigh before grabbing his legs and hoisting them on the bed. You gently slide his heavy shoes off of his feet and placing them on the floor next to him. He’s like dead weight, barely flinching as you manipulate his position and body, but when you look up at him, his eyes are wide open and fixated in the dim room.

You stand gently and lean to kiss his temple, “I’m gonna get you some water, okay-”

“No!” He yells, wrapping a hand around your wrist. You gasp, but his gaze holds nothing but sadness. Need. Sickness.

Worry.

“Please, don’t leave. No. Please.”

“Gordan-”

“Please?” He begs, sniffling as his eyes glass over. Your heart sinks at the sight of his genuine distress, and as you nod, his grip softens. “S-sorry…”

You shake your head and sit back down on the bed, holding his hand. Your thumb strokes over his knuckles, and you’re unable to peel your eyes away from Gordan as quiet tremors of tears shake him as he starts to cry. “I’m right here, Gordan. Do you see that? Can you nod if you see me?”

He exhales shakily, but his green eyes blink more tears as he nods. You kiss his knuckles softly. “Can you tell me what you need? You don’t have to tell me what happened, but what can I do to stop the tears? The fear?”

Gordan says nothing as he closes his eyes, laying back down on the pillows. He squeezes your hand, and you nod to yourself.

“That’s fine,” you assure, not releasing his hand as you scale up the bed to lay next to him. “I’m going to be right here, Gordan, okay? All night. I’m right here, all right?”

Gordan sobs quietly, and you squeeze his hand again as you shush him softly. Your free hand goes to his face, carding back the fallen gelled locks. A silence washes over the room, save for Gordan’s sniffles. He inches further towards you, burying his face in your warm chest and taking large inhales of your scent.

Anxiety swirls in your system as you continue to soothe Gordan, your mind almost afraid to piece together what horrors he must’ve experienced. You nuzzle closer, more protectively against him, your hand never stalling as the first line of color paints across the sky, and you hope the daylight fights off the monsters dancing in Gordan’s head.

Because that’s all you can do for him-

Hope.

[emmyrosee]

I’d love to see your take on reader having to use their safe word and the Bills reactions. Mainly Axel/Roman but any and all I’m thirsty for

The drama, I love😫💕

———

Axel absolutely goes insane when you safeword. You assure him that you’re going to be okay and that you were just overwhelmed.

But it’s more than that to Axel. To him, you’re his baby, his absolute world and he crumbles at the mere idea of him hurting you or making you any form of uncomfortable. When you safeword, he avoids you like the plague, knowing you need him but not being able to comply and give in.

He hurt you, and that’s all he knows now.

Gordan does get very anxious when you safeword, but he also knows how to make it better. He blows cool air on your face and strokes your face soothingly, reminding you that he loves you so much and how strong you are. He thanks you over and over again for stopping him, and once you’ve finally let his words sink in, then he leaves you to do what you need.

Whatever will make you feel comfortable again

Henry and The Kid are two people you don’t really safeword with. Their whole life in and out of the bedroom is to please you, make sure your pleasures come first. They live off your praise, making sure to get the clear to continue with everything.

You’re their whole world, their queen, their everything, and they’ll be damned if you think any less

Mark. Mark, Mark Mark. It’s hard to safe word with Mark because he just makes you so overwhelmed and intense and so stimulated, your body just jumps from one focus to another. And he knows this, especially when you’re hate fucking. And because he knows this, he knows your safeword is always on the tip of your tongue, he has to make it better in every way, shape, and form with aftercare and next-day experiences.

He’s lucky he’s so good with aftercare

Mickey is sorta like Henry and the Kid, but there are rare occasions when he gets possessive and rough, covering you with marks and making you tear up at the intensity.

But the minute you safeword... the second that word passes your lips, that complete dominance and roughness washes from him and he feels absolutely awful. When you safeword, it’s almost like you both need to assure each other. He cuddles you close, brushing the hair from your face while you sniffle against him, just holding each other close in silence.

He takes care of you once your better, but his domdrop is absolutely insane, he will- like axel- avoid you until you corner him, pull him into a hug and assure him that you’re not mad and that you miss him.

Roman is very rough in bed. But he bever exactly crosses that threshold of pain unless he’s in a bad mood. Then, more than not, you have to wrench yourself from his grip, scream your safeword and let the world stop while you sob and gasp for breath.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, getting on his hands and knees to make himself smaller. Your eyes are glazed and your mind is anywhere else, but you slowly nod, seeing the emerald green of his eyes makes you come back considerably. He lets you cry and curl away from him, his mind going to the darkest of holes while he desperately tries to bring you back out of this headspace.

Roman loves you. And the idea of you fearing him is enough to make him sick.

[emmyrosee]

UM please I need that "i haven’t been hugged in years" prompt for Baby and Merkel

I love my nerds😍

———-

You couldn’t explain it if he had asked you to.

There was just a buildup in the pit of your stomach that was turning you like this.

It started getting darker, earlier, Merkel was out later and later, loneliness crept back into your soul, the pounding in your head refusing to ease up, and overall, you just wanted nothing more than to go home. You feel doomed to stay here the rest of your sorry life, and you’re just so tired all the time that you can’t even process what color your shirt is or when the last time you showered was.

You were just done.

It was late, very late, and Merkel still wasn’t home. He had warned you that he would be late and to stay in your room, but as the hours ticked by, you couldn’t bear to stay in your room any longer. You shivered under your hoodie as you waited for the man to come home, heat and TV off in an attempt to stay as hidden as possible. You knew Merkel wasn’t going to be the happiest that you had left, but you couldn’t bear the darkness anymore.

In the distance, you hear the subtle jingling from keys approach Merkel’s front door, and as it flies open, the softly whistling Merkel emerges in the frame. He flips on the light switch and jumps at the sight of you, swiftly shutting the door.

“What are you doing?” He asks, though there’s no anger. You shrug numbly, eyes focused on his leather shoes. The slowly approach you, and suddenly his face appears in your vision, and your eyes water, unable to give him anything. “Is.. Everything okay?”

“I’m f-fine, Mr M-Merkel,” you manage, lip wobbling in distress. He shrugs, “you don’t seem fine.”

“I am.”

“Are you?”

A choked sob slips past your lips, and your hand covers your mouth in an attempt to stop the weak tears. You don’t cry, and you sure as hell weren’t about to break to this stranger. Merkel’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and his green pools dance over your pinched face.

“Please, Don’t cry. What can I do?”

“I wanna go home!” You sob, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re so great, I don’t deserve your kindness, but Mr Merkel, I want nothing more than to go home!”

Around your fingers, you see Merkel bite his lip in guilt, confusion and distress in his expression.

“I’m sorry,” you choke, wiping your wet eyes. “Forgive me, Mr Merkel.”

“Oh, nonsense,” he tuts. “I’m terribly sorry there isn’t more I can do… I promise, I’ll try to find a way to get you to the Swedish border soon. I promise. The top of my priority list is to get you home, okay?”

You sigh shakily and nod, finally looking at him. He smiles sympathetically, “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” you reply. Your heart lurches at the answer, knowing damn well that it’s a lie. He tilts his head back, unconvinced. You sigh, nibbling your lip shyly. “Actually.. can we… could you… I need…”

“Whatever it is,” he hums, carding his hair back.

“I need contact,” you blurt. You cover your mouth while he opens his mouth, no words able to come past his lips. “Never mind, that was inappropriate-”

You’re cut off by the sudden lunging of the man who houses you, pulling you in his arms warmly, His massive hand cups the back of your head, thumb rubbing back and forth over your greasy hair.

“I haven’t been hugged in years,” you whimper, wrapping your smaller arms around him. You bury your face in his shoulder and claw his back in need, tightening the hug. He shushes you gently, and the rhythmic feeling of his thumb on your head lulls you into a sense of security.

You were going to be okay. And you knew he was going to make sure of it.

[emmyrosee]

Um, I'm going to need you to continue that Merkel x Baby ask where she finds out he's looking to move her. PLEASE. 💔

JUST FOR YOU BABY🥺💕

———

He wants to tuck her into his neck. He wants to hold her so close that she forgets why she’s even crying. He wants to make her feel safe. Protected.

Loved.

Merkel finally settles on the word love. It’s not easy for him to accept, but it’s definitely it. The way he feels when she sneaks into his room at night to cuddle because she can’t sleep. The way he feels when he makes baby her favorite breakfast. The way he feels when he comes home after a long goddamned day and she’s in his bed, half naked with some silly rope for bondage but the poor girl fell asleep.

And Merkel loves her too much to make her stay.

“Please,” She continues to beg, snapping Merkel out of his thoughts. “Please, please, please-“

“This is for you,” he assures, crouching in front of her. He gently grabs her cheeks, making her look at him. “I’m doing this for you.”

“They’ll kill me,” She echoes from earlier. “They’ll kill me, Mr Merkel. I’m sorry, please forgive me... I’ll be good, I swear I’ll be good-“ her hands clasp over his, and she kisses them out of mercy, almost as if a sign to hand herself to him entirely. To swear her goodness and to make sure he knew that she was going to be nothing more than a fly on his wall.

Merkel wracks his brain for an excuse. He can’t say anything about the other night. He won’t. “They won’t kill you,” he says, though his faith in how genuine he sounds isn’t exactly solid.

“Yes, they will,” she hisses through clenched teeth as she stands up. She’s breathing like a caged animal, eyes full of molten lava and hatred. “And you fucking know it, Merkel.”

She’ll never know how much that lack of “Mr” hurts Merkel. The “Mr” was a sign of respect. A sign of trust in authority. A trust in him.

He never expects “Gordan,” but “Mr Merkel” is who he is now.

“I don’t care where you go,” he spits hotly. “But you can’t stay here.”

“Why!” She screams. “Why! You’re suddenly too good of a rebel? Too good to house someone? Hey, why don’t you just fucking turn me in for the money! Then you can get a nice, new car and name it after me while you wheel your new bitches around town!”

“It’s not about the money-“

“Well I’m gonna die anyways, the least I could do is pay for your next big break-“

“I don’t want to kick you out!” He barks, grabbing her shoulders. She looks up at him in hatred- nothing but hatred- and in his gaze is nothing but.

There’s something so delicious in a post-fight kiss. Merkel’s addicted to it. The firey possession, the struggle for dominance, the complete focus on making the other one seem weak. And despite the amount of times she’s been trapped under Merkel’s dominance, she’s just as powerful as he.

She pushes him, “you’re such a fucking asshole.” The insult barely does anything to quell the desire building in Merkel’s soul, and judging by the way her leg is hooking around his waist, heel digging straight into his tailbone, she feels no different either.

They stumble down the hallway, demolishing two lamps and a small table in the process. He pushes her on the bed, and they’re both quick to remove all their clothes.

“Fuck You,” she growls, tugging at the fluffy parts of his hair.

“Yes,” he says flatly, sucking hard along her neck. “I fucking want to.”

[emmyrosee]

Okay last Merkel thot of the night and I will leave you alone. he's the kind of guy that would convince himself that baby is only sleeping with him because she thinks she owes it to him for keeping her safe.

Please don’t ever leave me alone, especially with thots about Merkel or any of the boys🥺💕

Because this? This is beautiful.

Merkel, slowly but surely, starts developing feelings for baby, which scares him more than anything.

Because he’s afraid all her affections, all her sweetness and her dependencies are only because she’s forced to be with him at this point.

And Merkel has loved before. Not often because of his line of work, but he has. And it’s always felt different than how it feels with baby, and he can’t tell if it’s better or worse that he feels this way.

Because his heart pounds when he flips in his arms, gripping his shirt as if to make sure he doesn’t leave, his body tenses when she whimpers happily when he runs his fingers though her hair (which he adamantly denies) and his mind goes wild when she crawls in bed with him, wincing from the pain of being cramped in the room all day.

Merkel wants to believe she loves him back.

He wants to think that she has feelings like his, that he can’t explain and he can’t pinpoint down other than “joy.”

He can’t.

Because he’s so far in his own head that she’s doing this for him, not with him.

And he can’t allow himself to fall into the void that is love.

Or, at least he won’t.

[emmyrosee]

EMMMMYYYYY that last merkel drabble made my heart weak. I just want all the angst. Like a close call of her getting caught

I’m so glad you liked it hngggg😫

But in the place of angst, I was thinking along the lines of this (but omg someone breaks in once they get a lead that shes with Merkel and they try to take her? Holy f u c k-):

Merkel gets thrown into some shady shit at work. And despite baby repeatedly asking him to not get involved and to stay home, he tells her that he can’t, that it’s his job and he has to go, all before making her kiss the casing of his bullet ring.

And one day, it’s really bad... like. Merkel is fighting someone and they shoot him in the shoulder or something, and he can’t move his arm too much. Blood is pouring from his arm, the blinding pain of the lodged bullet making him feel fucking sick and nauseous.

He doesn’t want to shoot baby’s bullet; he would rather die on the ground then have to live without it. But baby’s home. Her life literally depends on whether this motherfucker dies or not.

So, he kisses the casing himself, loads it into his gun and finally fires the bullet, sending it off to some unknown location (after it leaves his opponent’s shin), and Merkel can finally finish the job he was told to do.

He gets rushed to the hospital, and begs one of his friends (most likely Lorraine) over the phone to tell baby that she’s going to be on her own for a while but she is, under no circumstances, to leave that fucking house: to come see him, to get information on him, n o t h i n g.

Which sucks.

Because not only is she unprotected if someone decides to seek her out, but Merkel could be fucking dying because of her; she wants nothing more than to see him, kiss him and tell him every little feeling she’s ever felt about him.

But she can’t. And it fucking kills her.

After about three days of doctors telling him shit he already knows, Merkel finally gets cleared to leave, and he can barely walk into the door before baby is attached to him, kissing up and down his neck and clinging to his unwounded side like her life depended on it.

“Don’t ever pull that shit again,” she says between sobs. “Don’t you ever leave me like that. I can’t fucking do this without-“

“I lost the bullet,” Merkel says, so tired and in so much pain and guilt for losing the bullet that it’s all he can think of. “I lost your bullet.”

“It’s okay,” she soothes, brushing his greasy hair out of his face. “We can get you another bullet-“

“I lost your bullet,” he says shakily, almost in tears. Baby slowly pulls herself off of him, nodding in understanding as he cries to her.

“You were going to die if you didn’t, Mr Merkel,” she whispers, wiping his slowly falling tears.

“But I lost your bullet.”

And baby wants to snap him out of this funk, break him from this guilt and this pain but she can’t. All she can do is guide him to bed and listen to him repeat the only thing that’s on his mind right now.

Her bullet.

In his mind, without the bullet there’s nothing holding them together, no bridge and no protection. And baby wants so desperately to release him from this stupid guilt, over a stupid fucking bullet that saved his life.

But she can’t.

Not yet.

[emmyrosee]

after baby and merkel boink for the first time she becomes distant. he doesn't think she likes him and is worried she's uncomfortable so he starts trying to find her a new warehouse bc he wants the smol human to be happy. but baby was just worried he didn't like her and would want her to go

UGH the angst!😫❤️

She just becomes really stand-offish and that wall immediately just builds itself back up, which NEITHER of them want because they just knocked that wall down, but these two nerds can’t talk about anything so it just builds.

And the last thing Merkel wants is for baby to be unhappy or stressed or overall just not safe anymore because of him, so he starts talking to friends and friends of friends who own safe houses who can safely House her.

And maybe he does some phone interviews while she’s sleeping, and he goes to the places to make they’re like, peak safety and these shady assholes aren’t just about to turn baby in...

Because that’s his baby. He feels sick as he’s explaining her crimes, his heart speeds up as he tells the owner her favorite food or her favorite activities and what her non-existent sleep schedule is (leaving out the remedy).

What Merkel doesn’t know is that baby knows he’s looking. She’s heard the phone calls because that non-existent sleep schedule allowed her to hear everything. And her head starts spinning at the idea of being moved, being out of safety and just in general being away from Merkel. He truly just wanted to keep her away from danger, he had no reason to turn her in despite the impressive reward money. No one has ever been so kind to her; circumstantially or generally. She hasn’t done a single thing to deserve it and yet, here they were.

And this secretive divide draws them even further apart, Merkel trying to hunt her down and talk to her and baby being terrified to listen. It’s a messed up game of cat and mouse where both are left unbelievably dissatisfied.

Finally, he catches her off guard and before she gets a chance to dash away, he grabs her and pulls her into a hug, which makes her struggle further.

“No,” he says sternly. “No more running. Not from me-“

“Don’t send me away!” She screams, fighting harder in his grip. Merkel just tightens his hold, trying to silence her wails so the neighbors suspect nothing. “Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please!” She sobs, finally stopping her fight. She slides down to her knees and clasps her hands together for mercy. “I’ll be so good you won’t know I’m here! I won’t bother you, I’ll stay in my room and only come out to use the bathroom! I clearly let the freedom get to me and I overstepped a boundary, but you can’t send me away! They’ll kill me! Please Mr Merkel!”

[emmyrosee]

I'm a slut for angst, but also fluff so here's a lil of both. Merkel surprising baby on the anniversary of her coming to stay with him, and he picks up a really nice dinner to be romantic and when he let's her out and explains erything she just S O B S bc she's homesick but she's even more sad to think of going home without him

...okay you’re tryna kill me, okay, tea🥺

Go with me for a sec-

Baby can’t be fucked to count the days she’s been with Merkel, let alone plan anything for it. To her, it’s just February 23, there’s no reason for Merkel to be half as smiley as he’s being. 

Except there is.

Because after work, he’s going to pick up a huge, hot dinner, her favorite dessert for them to share and a bottle of the finest wine because it’s honestly the most important day of the year to him. He is probably a womanizer and doesn’t get to celebrate ‘anniversaries’ like people usually have, so this ones big to him.

And much like the first birthday party he threw her, he goes full out; part of him wonders if she’ll even appreciate or want this, but he doesn’t care because that’s his unofficially official babe.

To add icing to the cake, baby probably has been really clingy and borderline obsessed with Merkel (which he’s cool with), so he thinks this will be perfect.

So when he gets home, he sets everything up before he goes to wake her up; candles, the dinner, the dessert, the wine, the romantic music, he just can’t help himself.

And when he finally does wake baby up (in all her messy bed head, pajama wearing glory (which he wouldn’t change for the world)) she freezes as he brain sinks into why he was so giddy that morning.

“M-Mr M-Merkel,” she stammers, fighting her tears. “I w-wasn’t aware of this... I d-didn’t get-”

“What’s the matter?” He soothes. “Is it too much? Did I go too crazy?”

“No!” she assures, tears sliding down her face. “I... just... didn’t get you anything...”

And of course, Merkel just chuckles at this, “I didn’t want you to. This is merely the day you could finally settle. Breathe. A safe place to stay until I can find you a way home.”

And the second “until I can find you a way home” passes Merkel’s lips, that’s it. The dam is broken, and baby can do nothing but sob so hard no sound comes out.

Which sends Merkel into a frenzy because he doesn’t know if she’s lying and it is too much, or if something happened.

But to baby, it’s clear as day-

It’s sorta like Merkel’s obsession with losing her bullet. The idea that she made or got him nothing fills her with guilt and sickness for a magnitude of reasons.

She’s been with Merkel for a year, and he still talks about sending her home.

As if he has no idea just how deep in fucking love she’s fallen for him.

But she can’t admit it to him.

And to be fair... he can’t admit it to her, either.

All he can do, however, is gather baby in his arms and hold her like only he can, listening helplessly to her wails and gasps for breath.

[emmyrosee]

But like, what if it went another way and Baby didn't like seeing him with someone else? 😯 I need some angst and fluff please.

OH MYLANTA KAT WHAT HAVE YOU DONE😫❤️

Because of course Merkel is an attractive man in all senses. He’s just so gentle and so attentive and for god sakes the more you’re around him and the more the more you can feel yourself slipping into the deep void.

And you know you’re here for one reason and one reason only; but part of you wants wants more reason. It’s impossible to not fall deeper in love with the drug that is Gordan Merkel.

But it gets so much worse when he meets this woman. And they become absolutely inseparable. You feel your jealousy growing and you know there’s nothing that you can do about it.

(And this might be a spoiler OTR, but) it probably leads to you just becoming so distant, and it hurts him because he spent so long getting you to trust him that once you start shutting him out again, he’s really not sure what to do or why you’re doing it.

And it probably leads to this massive, huge fight where a whole lot of words get spewed at a lot of confessions get said. You end up admitting that you’re jealous, and this answer is slowly making less and less sense but the idea will come back, Kat, you’ve officially killed me😫❤️